OSABC II : That Which Cannot Die
by LogicalPremise
Summary: My AU retelling of the events in ME2, with a completely new take on Cerberus, the Shadow Broker, and the Collectors. Examines the themes of what exactly constitutes death and life, the line between revenge and self-hatred, and how small amounts of light can shine in every darkness. Not a happy ending. Includes my takes on Overlord and LofSB. Rated M for language and violence.
1. Arc I : Some consider unnatural

_**A/N and Intro:**_

_Welcome to **OSABC II : That Which Cannot Die.**_

_**TWCD** is a continuation of my AU rewrite of Mass Effect 1, titled "Of Sheep and Battle Chicken". This story covers the period of time from Shepard's death and the recovery of her body, the entirely of Mass Effect Two, and my own take on the DLC. _

_I'll warn you right now: when I say AU I mean fucking __**AU**__. I have taken a shotgun to canon in every possible way, and if you think I changed things up in the first and second stories, oh gawd._

_That means you will be completely lost if you haven't read the first two stories – and if you click my profile, you can see other supporting documentation that fleshes out the back-story of the universe, such as the _**Cerberus Files, the Systems Alliance Order of Battle, and the Encyclopedia Biotica**_._

_None of these are required reading, but if you ever wonder why salarians operate in bullet-time, asari have biotic lightsabers, Cerberus can run a taco stand, and the entire universe is a vile, conspiracy ridden shithole that makes 40k look like My Little Pony...you may wish to check them out._

_In case the story summary eluded you, this is Fshep/Liara. There are other pairings, but it's not a romance fic. (Sorry ladies. If nimraj12 asks me real nice I might try my hand at a gushy romance, but it would have to be Mshep/Miri or Fshep/Kaiden for me to pull it off.) The other pairings are rarely if ever conventional – you'll see things like Joker/Tali, Chakwas/von Grath (finally), Jack/Morinth, and the first actual Kasumi/Taylor that is more than Kasumi-chan pervving on Taylor's abs._

_Things you will see is a different take on Shepard's resurrection, the Council's reaction to said resurrection, the Alliance still acting like assholes, and a much more intelligent plan to the Collector attacks than "hurr durr throw yourself through a relay that kills everyone lolzors". Goddammit, Bioware. You'll also see some pretty hectic fighting, but more of a focus on exploring, on learning about the characters, and about the Reaper threat. _

_And of course, god-stomping the crap out of batarians. That never gets old. _

_Things you will not see include a stupid Council, moronically evil Cerberus, weak-ass turians, or pretty much anything that Bioware half-assed. The story runs on the Rule of Crazy Awesome, so in game terms the setting is a mix between Insanity and Easy. _

_It's also a story about the difference between _**_revenge_**_ and _**_justice_**_. _

_As an aside: This is rated M for strong language and heavily violence. While there are a number of sexual innuendos, there are no explicit sex scenes in this work. Given my version of Shepard's proclivities, that's probably for the best. Nothing is MA (and if you think something is, let me know and I can take it out. NO, there will NOT be lemons or any of that shit off site, do you know what the hell Shepard's kinks involve? Ugh.)_

_As with ATTWN, there are five arcs._

_The first arc is something of a prologue, going over what the major characters are doing, framing the setting, and allowing me to explain just how in hell you can bring the dead back to life. _

_The second arc covers the 'primary mission' – figure out what the hell the Collectors are up to. _

_The third arc is sort of my take on Lair of the Shadow Broker. This is going to be where the rule of Crazy Awesome takes the driver's seat and takes us right over the side of the cliff. Answers are questioned, questions are answered, and Shepard goes from merely angry to really, really pissed. _

_The fourth arc is about the 'secondary mission' – more details later. No spoilers. :D_

_The fifth arc is the closing arc, the take-down of the Collector Base, and a showdown with the Council. _

_The appropiate music for this book is on Youtube, search for "Epic Legendary Intense Massive Heroic Vengeful Dramatic Music Mix" VOL I through III. And the rest, I guess.  
_

_This one is dedicated to Griffin, Charlene, Michael, Lais, Ahmet, Alyssa, Quintin, Sherry, James, Rob J, and of course Yonis. You all know who you are. _

* * *

_PS: For all the PM's about the trumpets, you're thinking along the wrong lines. I give you one important hint: **Vorlons**. LAWL. _

* * *

**THE FIRST ARC : DO NOT CALL UP THAT WHICH YOU CANNOT PUT DOWN **

_'You may want to rethink your clever plan. You had her killed once already and all you did was piss her off.' _

_-Garrus Vakarian to Harbinger_

* * *

The office, like much of the base was cold, sterile.

White walls, trimmed in black, gleamed under the hard banks of overhead lights, the tile floors spotless. Every surface had the pristine appearance of a facility built to exacting specifications, no expenses spared. The room was luxuriously appointed, the best technology and the most comfortable extras, but it remained a place of cold, deadly science.

The air smelled of antiseptics, ozone, and the barest hint of corruption.

Miranda hated that smell. No matter how they adjusted the filters, the barest touch of rotting flesh somehow lingered, as if a reminder from God at the abomination they were performing.

She cleared her thoughts, sitting in her offices aboard Aristeas Station. She disapproved of the fixation the Illusive Man had with ancient Greek mythological naming, but the name was ironically appropriate in certain ways.

As usual, her mornings were all the same. Wake up and perform her usual aerobic workout, mental exercises and memory games. Review all the work orders for the nanite groupings Vigil oversaw in the nightly builds. Examine chemical and biochemical compound reads from the clones and implement any framework changes into the subject. Spend a good twenty minutes reviewing their progress thus far and marvel at how far they had come. After just over two years of hard work, Miranda was starting to believe they could do the impossible.

This wasn't just cheating Death. It was _mugging_ him and making off with the goods in broad daylight.

The challenge at the beginning had been one of scale. They had to revive the dead, and the subject in question was the single deadest person Miranda could imagine.

Sara Ying Shepard had died in a manner almost too gruesome to contemplate. Literally burned alive while being smashed by the wreckage of her own ship, choking on her own blood and with her oxygen cut. The crime syndicate that extracted her body from the wreck of the Normandy had no reason to be very careful, rendering all her extremities useless. Being frozen solid was just a final indignity.

The Illusive Man's original plan was to resurrect Shepard just as she was, a normal human woman with perhaps a touch of corrective cyberware or bionetic implants. That had been tossed out three weeks into the project.

Almost eight percent of Shepard's brain mass was gone. Her heart and lungs were crushed. Less than twenty seven percent of her skeleton was intact, and her body was so ruined as to be beyond the help of any regeneration device. Every single organ was damaged, her remaining leg was mostly a frostbitten stump, and her remaining arm had been mangled so badly that the left hand could touch the left elbow.

The use of advanced cybernetics could correct some issues, at least on a purely physical level, but just cramming her full of replacements would only give them a zombie thing with a rotting brain. Much more would be required.

It took over seven months and well over three hundred million credits to even be confident that they could restore her physical form in any way. Entire companies were bought out and new technologies researched. Scanners with picoscale capabilities. Nanites that could read and reconstruct DNA on the fly.

Biotic cyberware – known as blueware – would be required as well, for Shepard had been a biotic prior to death and that ability made up a large part of her arsenal. Each piece had to be custom designed, fitted carefully into a plan of action that was mostly theoretical and dependent on breakthroughs in human medicine that didn't even exist.

When they'd started, she thought the project was impossible.

That was when Jack Harper changed the goalposts.

Now they just had to bring her back. It had to be her – her mind, her personality - but he was willing to accept that she might have memory loss, or be so cybernetic that she wouldn't even technically classify as _human_. The Systems Alliance considered anyone over forty-five percent cybernetic to be impaired, and legal limits restricted any conversion past 55%.

Every scenario they saw would require at least 75% to 80% conversion. Maybe more. And so the planning had begun, and the arguments.

The psychology of Shepard had to be carefully researched first. The chief psychologist had pointed out Shepard suffered from many issues before her death, and simply stuffing her organs and brain into some kind of freak-show cybernetic body, ala Richard Williams, would end up in failure. Shepard already saw herself as a monster and killing machine at one point, and dehumanizing her – especially given the loss of her wife – would only create additional mental issues.

Nor was that the only challenge. Even with cybernetics, they wouldn't solve all the issues. While Project Osiris had created artificial organs, the efficiency of such devices was still hotly debated. Some of the research showed that high percentage cybernetic conversions suffered more mental decay and what was known as cell-memory drift the more they were 'disconnected' from biological systems.

Miranda felt this was a load of spiritualist hooey, but the data didn't lie. You could literally plot the amount of cancer, the lifespan and mental stability of the Alliance's veterans with cyberware along a line corresponding to their cyberware percentage.

Shepard's exposure to the Prothean Beacon had also damaged her mind on some level – they didn't know how well she could hold up without the constant prop of her bondmate, Liara, who was now very dead. Trellani said she could try some things, but serious thought was given to making some kind of clone of T'Soni, or even engaging some other asari to bond. Trellani shot that idea down and spent weeks poring over stolen texts and interrogating asari priestess brutally captured by Kai and Pel, before personally and sadistically executing each one.

She claimed she could fix the issue, and Harper said it was handled.

Unfortunately, that was only the mental problems. On a physical level, merely re-cloning and replacing tissues wouldn't work either. The damage to the brain would require several cybernetic systems to correct and monitor, and Shepard had done something before death that had left many of her cells highly irradiated – Joker thought it was probably the explosion of the Kyle class torpedo she'd damaged the attacking ship with that might have caused that. A full clone replacement attempt usually resulted in multiple cancers. Every clone had to be DNA-examined, genome proofed – which reduced their yield and meant they went through a truly sickening amount of clones during the project.

Worse, no clone could be created with the nervous modifications and alterations to the lymphatic system caused by eezo exposure. Even if they could expose a prenatal Shepard clone to eezo, they couldn't wait for it to grow to full size, nor could such things be merely swapped over. If they could have done that, humanity could create biotics at will. Luckily, most of Shepard's original eezo nodes remained, and while they couldn't clone new ones, they could induce additional nodes in the body while she was functionally dead at little to no risk, boosting her power – but only by utilizing her real, natural body tissues where possible.

Finally, there was always the ugly fact that fully cloned tissue seemed to decay and age faster than 'natural' tissue. They still didn't know why, and Vigil was unhelpful, as Inusannon bio-science had never seen this issue, but even with its help they were unable to overcome the issue completely. Vast banks of clones were flash grown and harvested for healthy cells, which were used to create more clones, but none of them would be fully viable.

They could cheat – a little – by culturing existing, surviving cells without heavy damage. But that would be painstaking work, with any imperfections resulting in starting over from scratch. Vigil was confident they could come up with a clone Shepard that would last, but Harper rejected the idea.

He didn't want a copy. He wanted the real thing, no matter what it cost or how much effort it took. He would compromise on many things, but not on that. And so they began.

Shepard's original body – or at least her torso and head – would have to be salvaged, strengthened, and augmented. The design specifications were simple, but daunting. Shepard would need strong protection on all internal organs, as they would be far more fragile with the type of repair and patch job she was undergoing. Sub-dermal armor, arterial mesh, nanorepair systems, onboard medigel systems – anything and everything that could mitigate damage would be used. The skeleton would need heavy augmentation and bracing, not only to support the cyberware and myomer musculature, but to shield the carefully vat-grown replacement marrow and small nanofactories that would enhance her blood.

Shepard's eyes were gone, and no one had ever mastered making new purely biological ones that were more than cosmetic fillers, so she'd end up with cybernetic replacements there. Her hearing was still functional, once the nanites repaired her delicate inner ear bones, and nothing would be wrong (or changed) about her smell or taste. But additional vision mods and hearing augmentation was built into the empty cyberskull they planned to put her brain inside once it was done being fixed.

They'd spent a month getting the exact coloration of the eyes down, and six days on the subtle folds around the eyes that hinted at Shepard's Chinese heritage. Miranda shuddered when she remembered the four hours they spent on the damned teeth. Or the endless fucking tedium of checking and rechecking the damned hair. None of it was hooked to the body, but it all had to perfect before that point, anyway.

Every detail had to be perfect, not just for psychology's sake, but so that there could be no accusations of Cerberus genning up some kind of monstrous fake. Every bit of the flesh from Shepard that could be salvaged was, carefully bathed in nutrient growths, and overlain where feasible.

More planning was done on what extra features to include in the body that would be used. Some things – gyroscopes in the wrists, protective features against small arms, choking, poisons – were obvious. A low powered pulse stabilizer was Trellani's suggestion, that would stop pulse suppressors and grenades, although not phase disruptors and disruptor rounds, from blocking her biotics.

Clones were made, exposed to horrific death scenarios, and the damage to the brain modeled and examined carefully. The corpse itself was injected with stabilization nanotechnology, as well as something the Inusannon AI known as Vigil created called a 'serenity matrix', some kind of energy field that prevented cellular decay for short periods of time.

The planning began to take on more and more complex aspects, as new people were brought in under heavy scrutiny and some of the first new tools came online. More cultures of cells were taken and examined. The body was laid out and carefully debrided of damaged flesh too wrecked for salvage, while any remaining harvestible cells were cultured. Shattered bone fragments had to be extracted, one by one, in painstakingly delicate operations too fine for the human hand or even most VI's – Vigil itself performed these.

Injections of nanite-laden serum and medical omnigel, packed with building materials, vitamins, amino acids and other less salubrious materials were carefully placed at certain points. The head was left in stasis panels while the body was literally cored, carefully prepared, and set aside. Each organ was given its own critical examination, and the liver, stomach, and kidneys were written off as losses and replaced with cloned replacements, augmented by cybernetics such as filtration systems, chemical analyzers, and a small device that could automatically discharge both clotting and anti-clotting agents.

The badly damaged heart was augmented with cloned tissues and corrective cybernetics, wire mesh and plastic sheathing wrapping around it. Microscopic robots stiffened dead muscular tissue, and nutrient baths and regeneration machines worked on it. The lungs were flash-cloned a dozen times and various models tested and examined, augmented with even more complex and intricate built-in filtration systems.

Miranda had to stop for three months and learn, alongside her slowly growing staff, the delicate details of cybernetics from a sneering Vigil. But the Inusannon biotechnology was literally millenia beyond the best technology the Alliance had, and she put up with the thing's insults. The cybernetic devices they created were 'living metal', capable of regeneration and rebuilding on their own.

Months passed. Entire teams were formed – doctors, biotechnological specialists, cybernetics experts. Two Nobel-Manswell prizewinning biologists joined. The limbs were given to one team, the primary organs to another, and so on and so forth. The progress reports she sent to the Illusive Man became less defensive, more assertive.

The shape on the table began to look less like a mess of meat and tubes, and more like a robot spliced with a human. An entirely new operating theater, highly automated and designed with Vigil's specially programmed VI's in charge, was built at staggering cost. The integration of flesh and metal began, with every cybernetic system overlain with living flesh or a bionetic equivalent. No expense was spared in making the results feel as natural as possible, down to the point where Miranda and one of the cloning techs had a screaming argument over how bouncy her ass should feel to the touch.

Somehow, a recording of this got to Pel, who made endless jokes about it. Miranda offered Kai Leng anything he wanted to stab the other Cerberus agent, and two days later Kai sent back a picture of Pel having suffered a fall down several sets of stairs with his new cyberarm busted and spurting out hydraulics in all directions.

The image had made her smile, if only for a day. She still had it as as screen saver on her portable terminal. The next day she was back to the grindstone, struggling with learning the field of hematology and why Shepard's blood had to have certain elements.

Entirely new fields of medicine were discovered as the new year rang in. Blood chemistry blended with biotechnic developments as they came up with a synthetic blood that would augment natural blood.

Clones were created, harvested, disposed of. One of the key researcher shot themselves, the ethical and legal implications of what they were doing too much for them to handle. Another one went crazy and Taylor and Ezno put him down, throwing the body out the station airlock when they were done.

Miranda realized she wasn't eating enough, but her days blurred together as they worked. Weeks swept by, as progress crawled. Two of the doctors on the ocular implant team ended up having a torrid affair and the woman getting pregnant. Arguments about bringing families to the station were shot down by Ezno with his trademark cold glare.

By the late third of the year, they had ... something. A monstrous body, slowly being reshaped back into a human form. Every possible flaw was examined. Meetings dragged on for hours about how to handle possible attacks. Side effects. Unexpected setbacks and plans were constantly adjusted. Some of what they were working on now was so far beyond known medical science that the teams coined their own words for elements of the work. The alien mix of nanotech living metal and bionetic artificial flesh was mockingly named 'Sheep's Clothing', for example.

Miranda pleaded with Harper to do more careful screening of people with a habit of making horrible puns.

As progress advanced, Wilson's work on the gray-box continued. Vigil had some method of mapping out the neural pathways of Shepard's brain, and combined with Wilson's own research, the possibility that they could accurately save almost all of Shepard's memory – and personality – was rising to close to one hundred percent. Still, it was painstaking, tedious work – thousands of connections were needed, and these were carefully stored on the gray-box, even while swarms of nanites laid billions of chemical trails between neurons, trying to balance the electrochemical balance of the brain once more to that of a living being.

Vigil had said the Inusannon could be revived from death in this manner, although he admitted Inusannon physiology was far stranger than human physiology. Wilson worked diligently, even if in Miranda's opinion he bitched far too much and was too cautious in his approaches.

Two months ago, the breakthrough had happened. Wilson had found a chemical sequence that seemed to produce neural reactivation in the brains of clones killed and left for dead for several hours. It was a mixture of drell mental proteins, mapped to the human genome with coding to mimic the drell genetic pattern as closely as could be achieved with human DNA.

The mixture was tested for weeks on a dozen clones before Miranda went to the Illusive Man for authorization to use it. They'd all held their breath as the gray-box was installed, the microscopic leads threaded through the brain, and the serum injected.

They'd nearly panicked when they realized they were seeing faint neural activity, but Miranda had kept her cool, focusing the team on the integration. A grueling and marathon surgery of twenty five hours had reunited Shepard's brain with her now overhauled body. Nerves were reconnected. Blood vessels clamped shut by nanonic doors were reopened.

It wasn't life. But it wasn't death any longer either. Now they merely had to finish what they started. The celebration had gone on for several hours that day, she remembered.

She glanced up at the status repeaters for the medical bay. No changes. A flicker of a smile crossed her face as she remembered the glow of fierce pride she'd felt. The drinking, the night with Taylor, the rare and proud smile of Jack Harper – it had been a good night.

Now, a month later, they faced new problems. The body had to synchronized with the brain, and the eezo nodules carefully interlaced with both the nervous system and the blueware. A single mistake in one of the nine operations would ruin Shepard's biotics forever.

Assuming that the body on the slab ever woke up. Miranda finished her green tea and walked over to the heavy window in the wall, looking out over the medical bay.

Nude, Shepard seemed to merely be sleeping. The life support docket still extracted waste and kept her breathing, her blood pumping and her other needs taken care of. Robots monitored every system constantly, with human oversight at every level – no failures could or would be tolerated.

Only the most extreme care had been taken to attempt to restore her wrecked body to what it was. Some scars were missing, which Miranda did not think Shepard would miss. The body itself was ...entrancing. The cocoa toned skin rippled with finely tuned muscles, concealing the carefully placed sub-dermal plating covering many of Shepard's vitals. Those muscles were mostly artificial myomer – much stronger than human, and they'd never tire or produce waste products. Still, even laying there, she radiated a sense of power, of dark sensuality.

Miranda didn't envy Shepard's looks...exactly. But no one looking on Sara Shepard would think she was any kind of cyborg, that was certain. Too much attention had been spent on the tiniest details.

The breasts had to be rebuilt, and Miranda had found to her chagrin that Alliance records didn't include bra sizes. Miranda had erred slightly on the side of caution – she didn't think Shepard would complain. Reconstructing the other sexual organs was trickier. Vigil had argued there was hardly a need to compromise the hip region with such things, but Miranda had violently and vehemently disagreed.

Bad enough Shepard was sterile. Flash clones were incapable of producing viable ova in any case, and it didn't seem fair to somehow unsex her without her consent. Oddly enough, it had been Matriarch Trellani's agreement that won that particular argument.

Trellani's job, when it came time to wake Shepard, would be to try to stabilize her mind. Harper had been furious when he learned Liara T'Soni was dead, and Trellani had repeatedly warned that they were taking a serious chance that Shepard might become suicidal or depressed upon learning this. When Miranda suggested simply hiding the truth, the Illusive Man had shook his head.

"The one thing we cannot afford with Shepard is to lie to her. She won't accept that, or having things hidden from her. To make this work, we will have to play by her rules – her ability to accept and deal with things."

It had lessened none of the load on Miranda's shoulders, knowing that even if they brought Shepard back, they could still fail the moment she awoke.

More testing, more lab work, endless examinations. More cybernetic installation, more blood work, more samples. Every day was a new set of data to examine, to review, to see if they were missing something critical. Vigil had gone over the body of Shepard several times, scanning closely, but never found anything out of place.

Now all that was left was the final stretch, and seeing if their dark miracle would actually get up off the table and live...or if their work was in vain after all.

With a sigh, she turned from the window. It was time for the meeting.

Exiting her office, she walked through the wide corridors of the base towards the primary meeting room, nicknamed the Shit Pit by the less than eloquent members of the research team. The name came from the dark brown carpeting in the room, the sloped walls, and the constant amount of arguing and disagreement that occurred in the meetings it hosted.

The station itself was paranoia made manifest. It was built inside a massive asteroid, tucked into a ragged chain of other asteroids in the 'hot zone' of a neutron star. Electromagnetic radiation and torrential storms of hard x-rays would have normally made it uninhabitable, but the entire asteroid was hollow, the crust fortified by sixty feet of lead and filled with a quarter mile of graphite-fortified water. It also huddled behind a more massive asteroid that had been impregnated with iron over the course of months by nanites sprayed into the dark face of the stony body.

The station itself was relatively small. Three floors of medical labs, cloning facilities and testing labs. A floor for the medical operations, and one floor for offices and meeting rooms. Three floors of living spaces, entertainment facilities, exercise rooms and the like. A hangar bay that was actually a huge box on rails that moved from the base itself to an external mounting point, each end of the bay a giant airlock.

The outer shell of the base was a defensive deathtrap, manned with the bizarre, carved statues Vigil created and somehow animated, along with various mechs of the Illusive Man's own design, a maze-like layout studded with traps and false leads, and five floors of a completely fake base dedicated mostly to producing various equipment unrelated to the real project. Harper was sure the Broker could infiltrate his forces given enough time, and had taken every reasonable and unreasonable precaution.

Only those scientists willing to have a cortex bomb installed in their head and undergo a shallow link and screening by Matriarch Trellani could work on the project. The rewards Harper dangled in front of them were blindingly attractive: ownership of patents and designs, shares in the new GenSynth corporation that had been fronted to prototype much of the more esoteric technology, cash rewards, and more.

Of the nine specialist doctors leading the project, only two - Wilson and Chambers - knew their patron was Cerberus – the rest thought this was a highly classified Alliance black project. There were no Cerberus logos on anything, no black and orange armor suits. Even the security force Taylor and Ezno ran so carefully wore standard Alliance uniforms.

The people staffing the base were mostly not 'real' Cerberus, either. Explaining Vigil to some of them had taken more than a few days, but everyone got used to it, and seemed to be pleased the Alliance had 'gotten one over' on the Council. The cover story – that the Alliance had stolen Vigil, that Shepard was being brought back to life per the orders of the High Lords, that the technology would advance human science and power – was lapped up. Some of the scientists, after all, had been involved in other black projects.

The presence of Trellani was handled by the amusing act of the asari dressing up as a Commissar, and Miranda was always sourly impressed by how much like one of those nuts she could act.

She even carried one of those outre flamethrowers around.

Miranda was fairly sure one reason for the security was that most of these people would have to die once the project was completed. That didn't bother her as much as it might have, two years of the most ethically questionable science in human history eroded one's sense of outrage.

As she entered the Shit Pit, she suppressed a grimace at the decor once more. The room was circular, with seats for nine people. The table was brown wood-grain and plain armaplast, but the walls were colorful pale brown pastel colors designed to promote calm thinking. The thick brown pile carpet was comfortable, but utterly wasteful. The big haptic displays on the walls were currently displaying status reports, Shepard's life-signs, and a real-time view of her nude body still on its life support table.

She took her seat the table, slightly early as was her usual habit, and focused her thoughts. As she was doing so, the far door slide open, and the nominal head of security, Randal Ezno, walked through the door. His blue eyes swept across the room in a quick search for threats, just like they always did, before he closed the door behind him and sat in his chair.

She didn't like Ezno, but she didn't dislike him either. He was just ... very stolid. Cold features, cold voice, cold actions. He was a good leader, disciplined and certainly more professional than Pel or Kai Leng. He was nearly as much of a stickler for procedure and accuracy as she was, and drilled his people hard. If not for the fact she had more than a bit of an attraction to Jacob, she would have considered him an ideal chief of security.

But since she did prefer Jacob to this unfeeling wall of a man, she often found herself comparing the two. Jacob led through his own determination and will, inspiring his men to do better. Ezno's icy demeanor and inhuman level of perfection in every aspect of combat was almost demoralizing. He dismissed failure as a sign of incompetence, and expected everyone to adhere to his own standards.

His lack of empathy was useful when it came time for security to tighten, however. He was the only one in the room with no true medical knowledge, but his insight into combat augmentations – and his own experience, with cybernetics, biotics, and weapons – often let him make not only useful but practical contributions to the discussion.

She met his blank gaze with a polite nod, waiting for others to enter.

It only took a few minutes for most of the team leaders to enter and get settled. She reviewed them mentally as she prepared for the meeting.

Wilson himself was at the far end of the table. Short and acerbic, given to outbursts of frustration and a tendency to 'throw shit at the wall until it stuck', he was still brilliant with neurology and neuralink programming, if hopeless at more basic medicine. His development of the mapping techniques for force-filling a gray-box – and having those memories capable of merging back into a human mind without the usual sythesia – was key to the project. Wilson was sloppy and slovenly, but only with his personal appearance – his notes and research materials were immaculate, his testing eccentric but strict, and while he was inclined to do things by the seat of his pants more than Miranda liked, he also produced results. As usual, he was more occupied by his cup of coffee than his surroundings, eyes mostly glued to his padd as he reviewed baseball scores.

Next to him, Doctor Chandar Gayan was reviewing his own notes. A dark-skinned man of Indian extraction, he was the team lead for hematology and oncology. The amount of modified genetics, cyberware, and other foreign materials they were cramming into Shepard's corpse would cause severe toxicity and feedback issues, and Gayan was the one trying to avoid or mitigate those. His dapper appearance was set off by the coldness of his eyes and his deep, booming voice, which always sounded as if he was selling something. Unlike everyone else, his lab coat was worn atop an immaculate three piece suit of the most modern and stylish cut, his dark hair was always freshly trimmed, and his strong cologne was a constant identifier of his personal presence.

Doctor Natalia Kyursko sat next to him, in a conversation with Doctor Kelly Chambers. The bombshell blond Russian woman's flirtation with Chambers at any possible moment was more rumor mill grist for the base personnel – hardly surprising. Kyursko could favorably compare with Miranda herself in terms of the way she carried her supermodel looks, but unlike Miranda was outgoing, extremely friendly and had a roving eye and a reputation for playing both sides of the isle. She'd been playing sweet-glances with Chambers since she'd gotten here a year and two months back, her background in muscular systems and myomer integration valuable to the team, but so far Chambers had shot her down for the often rumored liaisons Kyursko was famous for.

Chambers herself was the one team member Miranda was truly ambivalent about. Kelly was Cerberus – she was the Illusive Man's personal psychological specialist, and far more dangerous than her innocent, bubbly personality would reveal. She looked as if she was twenty six but was far closer to forty, and her sparkling green eyes danced with mischief that Miranda instinctively distrusted. As the team psychological and mental therapy specialist, she would be busy alongside Trellani stabilizing Shepard when she woke up, but her input had been critical in how they chose to rebuild Shepard.

It had been Kelly who had gone to the trouble of recreating Shepard's Tenth Street Red tattoo, and who had demanded they save both the strange notebook of designs and drawings in the stasis pod and the multicolored hammered gold bracelet on her remaining arm. Miranda was amused when Trellani backed Chambers up, and she grudgingly admitted she mostly distrusted Kelly because she got along so well with that asari ... person. It didn't help that of all the team members and researchers, only Kelly's file was unavailable to Lawson.

She hated being in the dark, and the few times she'd gotten testy with Kelly, it was readily apparent the psychologist was more than capable of dismantling Miranda's own fragile mental state with a handful of words and a dismissive smile. Miranda would have gladly removed her if she wasn't so useful – and kept that dreadful Kyursko woman from hitting on her.

Ignoring the two of them, she swept her eyes past Ezno to the rail-thin figure of Doctor Carla Andira. A slender woman with dark black hair and intelligent eyes, Andira's ancestors had been Brazilian, a dark mark on her entire life so far. Struggling to find funding for her research into exotic applications of nanotechnology and immune systems, she'd been snapped up by Miranda and was the only one of the non-Cerberus team leads she was considering salvaging after the project completed. Andira was as driven as Miranda herself, something of an introvert, and completely without ego – willing to compromise when it was needed, but standing firm when she knew she was right. Always helpful and positive without being bubbly, the young doctor was probably Miranda's favorite, and surprisingly the only real friend she'd made in her days here.

The last two doctors were the more morally troubling of the group. Doctor David Ahankar was some mongrel mix of Scottish, Italian, Ethiopian and Samoan, giving him dark red hair, black eyes, the build of a sumo, and a surprisingly good tenor. From Arcturus, his patois was mostly gone and his accent mostly clean, but on occasion he would drop into the old tongue and unleash scathing profanity. Ahankar was the lead in charge of cloning and organ integration, a fully trained internist with six degrees and several patents under his belt. He was also an egomanical skirt chasing asshole in Miranda's opinion, and far too quick to answer any question with tests of clones that killed said clones in horrible ways. He didn't care if Shepard lived or died, he just wanted to prove his theories on clone harvesting to improve natural cellular efficiency was right.

But even he was pleasant compared to Doctor Jeremy Hyrim. A doctor from Bekenstein, his pale skin and dark hair and eyes weren't unusual, but his Jewish kippah hat and long, ultraorthadox beard certainly stood out. Ahankar was a womanizer, while Hyrim hated women and was a sexist pig when it came to anything and everything. His specialization in bone regeneration, skeletal support, and cybernetic mounting made him critical, but his inputs were rarely anything but sandpaper to the nerves. Worse still, he was the first one calling for more outrageous and inhuman modification to Shepard's body – any cost to her mind was dismissed. He was still miffed, she thought, that the whole project didn't center around a man.

She sighed, as one seat was still unfilled. As she did so, the door slid open, and the lean form of Doctor Saylish Six-Hawks walked in and sat down. His craggy face was twisted in a smile as he did so. Six-Hawks was an American Indian, a skilled bioengineer and a masterful neurologist and nerve surgeon, but his actual specialization was in biotic therapy and care. While certainly good at his job, he was almost chronically late to every single meeting, and had tendency to 'indulge' in various esoteric theories that always sidetracked each discussion and enraged Hyrim.

Miranda sighed. "It's time for the monthly status recap. Before we get started, I wish to thank your teams again for their hard work over the past week. We're now showing seventy eight percent integration on the nervous voluntary level and ninety-two percent involuntary – that means we can take the subject off life support as early as this week and set a final date for reawakening in the near future."

She forced a smile, and then continued. "However, as you all have seen the reports, we have increased failure signals as well. Neural tissue growth is barely moving at two-tenths of a percent. Scarring has once again set in across the shoulder joints and the cloned kidneys are still not filtering correctly. Shepard doesn't need to wake up with gallstones the size of a golf-ball, I think we can all agree on that."

She checked her notes. "Also, toximal gas buildup is up half a percent. We need a better way of eliminating that from the body until we get the artificial blood up and running at full capacity. We also are worried about the most recent MRI scans – we're not seeing enough neural activity, well below the planned threshold."

She looked up. "Now, let's review our current status, system by system. Doctor Wilson?"

**O-TWCD-O**

Four draining hours later, she stood in the primary communications room, before the semitransparent QEC image of her leader.

He'd listened carefully to her report, smoking and sipping his drink as usual, and then nodded as she finished. "It sounds as if you are nearly complete with your preparations. The facility we'll be moving Shepard to for the awakening process is nearly finished, along with the support materials and personnel we'll need for her to complete the tasks I have in mind."

He put out his cigarette. "And with that being said...I have a proposition for you, Miranda. I know you've pushed yourself to the limits on this – first getting Shepard's body out of the mess at Omega, then tackling a project that challenged everything we assumed we knew about the human body and the nature of death itself, and you've risen to the challenge every time." He smiled – a rare, real smile, not his usual thinly mocking one – and she found herself helplessly smiling back.

"Thank you, sir. I have done the best I could, and while I'm not entirely satisfied with the way things ended up, I'm convinced we certainly achieved the goals you set for me."

He nodded. "You did. But as amazing as what you've accomplished is, you must realize it is only the very first, small step in a much larger plan."

He leaned back in the chair she could only barely make out. "Before I lay out my proposition, some framework understanding is needed. The Reapers are still out there. The war with the geth is grinding down, and the batarian Empire is mostly a fraction of its former might, but both are still dangerous and possibly under the control of Reaper forces. The Council, thanks to the honeyed words of the Broker, think they have decades until the Reapers strike."

He lit a fresh cigarette. "I disagree."

She frowned. She'd not been able to keep up on outside events or politics as much as she would have liked, and she knew she was out of the loop. "Is there anything specific that is worrying you?"

He nodded, slowly. "There have been, over the past year, six wildcat colonies of humans in the Traverse completely wiped out. By what, I don't know. Every one of them is simply vacated of human life, as if something came along and scooped them up in the middle of work, play, or sleep. There is no evidence of a culprit, no signs of battle, no sensor logs that give us even the slightest clue. Every one so far is reachable by FTL from multiple relays, so we haven't even got a good fix on where the enemy is striking from."

She turned that information over in her head. "It wouldn't be the geth, then, since they never bothered to hide their activity when attacking before, only their attempts at building anchorages outside the Veil."

He gave her another smile. "Exactly my thinking. I've narrowed down the possible culprits, and there are only three possibilities. Slavers or raiders, independent military of an alien species...or an unknown actor, something we've not considered."

He puffed on his cigarette."Slavers and raiders don't have the capacity for the sort of surgical precision and flawless execution I've seen. Every colony with GTS defenses was taken with said defenses firing a shot. Pets were unharmed. Twice, asari were on the wildcat colonies, and were found simply dead, of a completely unknown toxin that was administered via some kind of injection – possibly a sting or bite."

He sipped something from the glass on the arm of his chair, then set it back down. "I've ruled out alien military action for the simple expedient that not a single solitary drive trace or any identifiable weapons fire residue has ever been picked up. The only thing my ships found six hours after a raid was a hint of exotic particle traces."

Miranda frowned. Why did that sound familiar? She reviewed her memories and then looked up. "The Normandy picked up exotic particle traces right before that unknown ship attacked and destroyed it."

Harper nodded. "Exactly. Based on what we've been able to put together from the scattered recollections of Mr. Moreau and the hull scarring on the wreckage of the Normandy, whatever destroyed her was using some kind of weapon much like the main gun of Nazara, although with a different focus. More like some form of supercharged particle stream."

He tapped a control on the other arm of his chair. "My scientists on another project tell me that it is very unlikely anyone could have reverse engineered such a weapon at the time of the Normandy's destruction...and that the 'Thanix Cannon' the turians have come up with is no where near as powerful and efficient yet. No one else had access of any kind to such weapons. To me, it implies a connection to the Reapers."

She nodded slowly, then shook her head. "That may fit, but it's weak, sir. No one will buy that argument, even if it fits the data."

Harper smiled wryly. "A sadly accurate assessment, Miranda. The new Addison Administration and President Huerta don't want to rock any boats. Why should they? They hate the very idea of wildcat colonies, and every one that vanishes without a trace only makes the rest more nervous without SA protection." His eyes narrowed, the blue circles within each iris seemingly glowing brighter for a moment. "And it reminds me entirely too much of the plans Richard and Rachel came up with to build a base of support for Cerberus operations."

She sourly nodded at that idea. It had become clear, in the years since the fall of Cerberus, that somehow Richard Williams had survived the fall of the headquarters. The so-called group known as Hades was definitely bearing all the hallmarks of his meglomaniacal actions. Cerberus was still weak, still wary of openly exposing themselves, while Hades was seemingly everywhere, especially on the outer colonies, fed up after what they saw as SA intolerance and constantly rising taxes.

Miranda shrugged. "If your surmise is right, then the Alliance still should be concerned. If this is some Reaper scout force..."

He shook his head. "Nothing so dramatic, I think. It took a great deal of digging, and more fruitless bribes and maneuvering than I liked, but I've pulled together several pieces of the puzzle." He tapped his chair controls again, displaying a different image in the QEC. "Shepard found a second Tho'ian on the ruined garden world of Eingana, wounded and nearly destroyed. On that world she found a single survivor, a Exital scientist who recorded an assault by what we've confirmed were Collectors." He touched another control and a video began to play.

A shaky image of some forest-strewn skyscraper appeared, the plantlife obscuring most of the ruin a sickly blue color. In the distance off to the left of the tower, a cylindrical ship, half comprised of arches of gray or black metal, half comprised of what looked like rock, hung in the sky. A few turian fighters or gunships flew past, but a beam of golden light seared through each one, blasting them to little more than fragments.

Hulking black creatures with tear-drop shaped heads, four glowing eyes, and insectile wings descended, firing weapons that were more of the same beams of golden energy. Turians they hit were disintegrated, collapsing to piles of smoking char and ash. Swarms of what looked like fist sized bugs choked the air, obscuring the battle.

A large group of the winged, insect-looking aliens was heading on foot into the city, cutting down anything in their path. The video ended suddenly, in a burst of static, then faded to black.

Miranda shrugged. "I fail to see the relevance."

Harper blew out smoke as he leaned back. "The ruins have, of course, been seized and sealed by the turian Hierarchy. But they ran tests on the damage to the building, and to the wrecked turian fighters. The weapon that inflicted that damage is almost an exact match to the weapon that destroyed the Normandy."

He looked at his glass, and frowned, handing it off to someone out of the pickup's cone of vision. "We also know, based on some of the information seized at Saren's base on Noveria and from bits found at Virmire, that Okeer was defiantly working with Saren. The Broker claimed to have killed him, but our ears in the Traverse have more than few rumors of missing krogan clans or mercenary groups, and we have video of what looks like a Collector vessel – nearly identical to the one in the video – operating in the vicinity of Korlus, a backwater salvage world. A world that suddenly has a large number of new krogan recruits, all supremely well trained and savage. It is possible he survived and struck some kind of deal with the Broker."

Harper dumped ashes from his cigarette, as a new drink was placed by his side. "Okeer was a famous genetic scientist and aided the salarians in the creation of the Genophage. He was also, according to Rana Thanoptis, who was captured at Virmire, responsible for the rachni-krogan crossbreeds seen on the Citadel during the Benezia Incident."

Miranda felt lost. "I'm still not following."

Harper inclined his head. "Patience. The final piece is the one that I've been awaiting confirmation on. Doctor Thanoptis and records found at Ylana's base both tell us that Collectors did business of some kind with Saren and with Ylana."

He spread his hands. "We have a very tenuous connection that implies the Collectors might be involved with Reapers and were definitely involved with both Saren and Ylana, as well as responsible for exterminating a Tho'ian. We know, based on Okeer's message to Ylana found on Lehan, that Okeer dealt with Ylana. We know, based on what little we found out, that the Broker claims to have killed Okeer, but someone is on Korlus, dealing with Collectors, possibly selling krogan and breeding new ones. The thread is thin...but I think the Broker and Okeer may be tied to the Collectors."

His eyes narrowed. "I assumed that the Broker had been involved in the sabotage of Shepard's mission and her death because someone in the Alliance ordered it, but I found absolutely no evidence of that."

Miranda folded her arms. "Saracino killed himself. I thought we assumed that was the source?"

Harper shook his head. "His bank accounts were untouched, and in any event I'm not totally convinced it was a suicide. Someone on his staff bypassed his security system overrides and left his house unsecured for over six hours the night of his supposed suicide, then reactivated it in the morning and vanished from the face of the Earth. The AIS wanted to nail Saracino and didn't follow up on this, but I think he was killed because he knew something. What he knew, remains a mystery...but he was the child of Michael Saracino and Rachel Florez."

She placed her arms behind her back and waited. "And now?"

The Illusive Man finished his cigarette. "Right now, we're in a holding pattern, until Shepard wakes up and we can see what sort of mindset and state she's in. But the Collectors are the only party who fit the evidence we have for who is attacking human colonies. Three quarters of a million people do not just vanish without a trace, and I want to know why these colonies are being hit. Biological research to come up with a weapon to use against us? Terror tactics? Something else? It's a bad time to be blind."

She bit her lip. "Understood, but ... you said you had a proposition for me?"

He gave her a flat stare. "Yes. When Shepard wakes up, the best chance we have to convince her to work with us is to give her a focus for her anger and rage. A duty to perform, once that has no morally questionable overtones. One that allows her to ... find her bearings."

He paused, examining a data-padd in is hands."Based on Doctor Chambers recommendations, I'm already putting together a crew and we've been working for some time on an appropriate vessel. What I need, however, is someone who knows Shepard's medical condition and special needs, as well as someone who can be a competent executive officer and take command of the mission if Shepard goes...off-script. I need eyes, and a presence I can trust. I need you, Miranda, to continue working with her."

Miranda nodded, although she had reservations. Before she could speak, though the Illusive Man held up a hand. "I know you must be close to exhaustion, given how you push yourself. There will be a least a little down time on this. You're of no use to me on this mission if you're so worn down as to inefficient, and once she awakes Shepard will require ... testing."

He sipped his drink. "You won't be alone either. I can't part with Trellani, but I can give you good backup – Jacob Taylor for security, and Doctor Kelly Chambers for insight into Shepard's mind." He paused. "If she makes the call, she's also authorized to try to seduce Shepard, if that helps."

Miranda coughed. "Shepard's ... ah, memory streams as recorded on the gray-box indicated she had rather extreme tastes, sexually speaking. I know those are incomplete when viewed externally but - "

He shrugged. "Dr. Chambers is well aware of that. It is only an option...one I didn't want you trying, in case that worried you such would be required."

She smiled, but weakly. She'd been tasked more than once to use her body and looks to ensnare targets for Cerberus, something she hated. The tutelage of how to do so under an alien witch like Trellani was even more humiliating, even she even made men like Kai and Pel stare at her, and Jack himself crawl to her bed.

She had caught even Richard Williams, a thing that wasn't even alive anymore, staring at her ass more than once at headquarters. Disgusting. Clearing her thoughts, she nodded. "Thank you. I'm afraid my tastes do not really run towards my own gender."

Not that she hadn't thought about it. She figured a great many women in her position probably did. But it didn't seem to have any point to it. Sexual pleasure empty of any meaning behind it was certainly a stress relief, but never appealed to her. The few men she craved the attention of were all attractive...but they all caught her eye for a different reason, mental rather than physical.

She didn't know what the hell she was going to about Jacob, and having him along would certainly complicate things. But she could figure that out later.

She exhaled. "What else do I need to prepare for to take on this task, sir?"

He sat back, expression blank, eyes glancing to one side, and she recognized his pose as one of carefully considering his words. After long moments he finally spoke. "You need to be familiar with how Shepard thinks, and reacts. I'm certainly not above using her ... but if she feels used, or worse, manipulated, Chambers thinks she will react poorly. When she asks for data, give it to her. She's not a natural charismatic leader – yet she can lead. People want to impress her, to make her react. Put her into situations where she could be double-crossed by us and show her that we won't."

He folded one hand into a fist. "Don't, whatever you do, let her anger outrun her control. Don't make us a target. If she focuses on what Cerberus has done wrong, don't try to defend the organization or me, Miranda. She's going to be fragile at first. Be her friend."

The dark haired beauty gave Jack Harper a nigh incredulous look. "That's easier said than done! She is likely to look at us as a pack of terrorists!"

The Illusive Man smiled. "No, she would have. Once she sees the position she's in, she'll start blaming people. Her mind isn't one to analyze a situation, but to react to it. She rarely chooses the wrong answer. It's almost like she has a pragmatic engine for a mind, discarding anything but what has to be done. She'll realize that the Alliance and the Council both are ultimately not going to get involved. And the people of the wildcat colonies are weak, helpless. Innocent of the misdoings of the Alliance."

He smiled. "We might imply, although we have no proof, that the Collectors are gathering some kind of slave labor force."

She thought about that, and compressed her lips. "I'll have full information on Shepard?"

He nodded. "Not just the full dossier on her. Chambers is already working hard to prepare one for her interactions with the crew, past interactions with other people in her life, and position dossiers. I'm in the process myself of figuring out what kind of tasking to give her, and what sort of support she'll need, but I'm not just going to send her out on a ship to gather a pack of killers and hurl her at the Collectors."

He sipped his drink. "That's ... an inefficient use of the six and half billion credits we've invested so far."

She nodded. "How long do I have?"

He shrugged. "I'd like to see Shepard up and running in three months, Miranda – but if you need more time, take the time. Accuracy is more important than speed. I'd like to move her out of that base of yours and into the facility to wake her up when feasible, but I'm willing to give you five more months if you need them."

Miranda considered. "We'll be able to do it in three, sir. Have you given any thought to the idea we had of a control chip?"

Harper grimaced. "I have. And after careful thought, the answer is no. The stakes are too high. If it were discovered by other parties, and hacked, it could undo all our hard work – and no matter what security we put on such an interface, it would be a weak point. If discovered by Shepard or others, it would ruin any relationship with had with her, and turn her against us."

Miranda sighed."Then I hope your facility for waking her up has sufficient security, sir."

He nodded. "Oh, it does. It will serve as a base of operations for her, so I'm hardly going to leave it defenseless. For now, keep me updated on progress. Good work, Miranda."

**O-TWCD-O**

Somewhere between a dream and a memory, in a brain that only worked in some ways and not others, a tiny black-haired child dreamed of endless sunny skies. She felt alone, and frightened, until a blue hand reached down.

A somehow familiar face, with eyes full of love above freckled cheeks, smiled at her. _"You will never be alone, Sara."_

The little girl smiled, and sank again beneath the waves of awareness, drifting on a sea of shifting, rustling leaves. Tides of vast forests and a sky of spinning starships whirled overhead, with the light coming from a single vast crescent moon.

_Wake up, Shepard._

_Wake up._

_Wake up, Sara._


	2. Arc I : Awakenings

_**A/N**:  
_

_People have recently asked about my pace of updates.  
_

_Today - April 12th - is the anniversary of my wife's death. The original OSABC was written to distract me from the pain of that, and around this time each year I tend to distract myself with writing once more. Perhaps it's just a habit now. I don't write this to generate sympathy, but to talk about something else. Make sure you hug your loved ones today. You will never know when they are going to be gone. _

_Trust me, the alternative sucks. She used to nag me about not writing more, since she told me I was good at it, I used to write her little fan fictions for her favorite shows to correct the fuckups she didn't like in them. I guess this is more of the same. _

_Anyway. Enough of me rambling. You came here for awesome, so here it is._

_As with the last chapters of ATTWN, AN's will be shorter and rarely comment on the coming chapter. I would point out that I've made the full text of ATTWN available for download at my site logicalpremise dot org if you are interested. _

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

* * *

_'I have to admit, having an angry Shepard staring down at you with a clenched fist is not exactly something you can face totally calmly.'  
_

_\- Jack Harper to Trellani  
_

* * *

The first sensation Shepard could feel was cool air, blowing gently across her face. It seemed to caress her, carrying with it the scent of clean linen, and a bare hint of something sweeter, like perfume.

She blinked sleepily, mind fogged. She must have overslept. As usual, the part of her that would normally feel for Liara reached out.

A jagged sense of red pain for the barest split second was all she felt, that and nothingness. She sat bolt upright, eyes flying open, head moving back and forth as she looked around.

She was in some sort of hospital room, she could tell that right away.

The floors were pale wood decking, the walls light pastel blue and the ceiling had expensive, hexagonal lights, but she was in a medical bed – if one more comfortable and elaborate than usual – with a big stack of monitors, haptic panels and what not next to it.

She realized a moment later she was nearly naked, rather than wearing the usual hospital gown, she had on thin black boxers and a sports bra on. Her eyes snapped around the room, and she frowned. Her vision was … strange. Too clear. Her eyeballs felt gritty.

Her mouth was dry, but her lips were...they felt springy when she ran her tongue over them. A tooth she'd lost in her youth was somehow replaced. She flung the soft white covers off of her body.

She glanced over herself, calming only slightly. None of her goddamned limbs had been hacked off, at least. That was good. She reached for her biotics and felt a tingle, but nothing more. Her hands shot to the base of her neck and found the empty port where her bio-amp would slot in.

She frowned. There was supposed to be a ring of scar tissue around the port, from the clumsy hack job Doc Bonesy did back on Tenth Street, the scars the Alliance doctors never bothered to fix when redoing her port. She was still muddled, and scared – she couldn't feel Liara at all.

She glanced around, but the far door was still shut. The instruments by her bed, she saw now, were on, but not connected – no wireless data pads were stuck to her anywhere. She pushed her hair out of her face, frowning as it seemed longer than she remembered, and slid out of the bed, getting to her feet. There was a trashcan by the bed, empty.

She blinked and swayed as she stood. She felt...heavy. More balanced, yet .. weird. She moved her fingers, watching the interplay of muscles below her skin, and was more confused. Scars were missing, one on her left ring finger. The ugly ones on her thigh.

She was more confused because the pair of scars on her stomach – one a gift of Saren, the other an old war wound from Dirth – were still there. She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder – her ink form the Reds was still in place, faded and broken up by a narrow slash.

She padded over to the wall sink on the nearest wall, and the lights around the mirror came on. She stared at herself for long seconds, turning this way and that.

Most of the scars on her body were gone. Not the ones from battle...just the reminders of her torture in her childhood. The ugly puckered mark from Benezia's warp sword was there, but the barely-there ache it always gave her when she pressed down on it was missing.

Her body didn't feel right. She was always in good shape, but never in this good of shape. Every muscle on her body stood out in highlight, as if tensed. Her skin was creamy and flawless, not dry and flaky at the knees and oily in places. She turned sideways, eyes narrowing.

She was pretty sure her breasts were bigger. What the fuck?

She went to the door, trying the handle, finding it locked. The door itself wasn't the usual flimsy wooden barrier in most hospitals, this was a thick slab of metal with no little window, and the door frame around it was heavily reinforced. She frowned, then glanced back at the bed. It too was supported with more beams and struts than a normal bed.

The room had no windows, only the bed, the sink, the mirror, a slide-away door leading to a toilet, a pair of comfortable looking chairs, and a wall locker. She frowned, and headed to the locker, opening it with a single tug.

Inside hung a single set of clothing – plain white t-shirt, a pair of loose, silky black pants, a long sleeved cardigan of some kind, and a set of hair ties. Thin ankle high black socks and a pair of flats sat at the bottom of the locker.

On the small shelf above the clothing were four items. Her notebook, a haptic picture frame, turned off, what looked like an omni-tool bracelet, and her bonding bracelet.

Memory hit her. The Normandy. She'd been on the Normandy. She remembered fire, pain, tears – then nothing.

What the fuck had happened?

Given little choice, she did the obvious thing. She got dressed. The clothing fit her exactly right, and she noticed they were loose enough not to hug her body. Her notebook seemed fine, although one corner of the cover was stained with blood. She frowned at that.

She flicked the haptic picture frame on and it displayed an image of Liara, smiling gently. Shepard swallowed, worried, and cut it off, slipping into the single pocket on the cardigan sweater, then picked up the omni-tool and her bonding bracelet.

The omni-tool connected without a hitch as she placed it and her bonding bracelet on her arms, a cool female voice speaking.

"Sara Shepard, you have obviously awakened. There is a great deal of information you must be ready to absorb, but we want this to be as easy for you as possible. This is a recorded message, so please don't try to reply."

"When you are dressed and feel ready to leave this room – I would suggest making sure you use the restroom first – walk to the door. The omni-tool will unlock it. Follow the corridor to the door at the far end of the hallway – the other doors will only open into empty rooms, but if you must look, go ahead."

The omni-tool message cut out, and Shepard frowned. This almost felt like the way the Alliance was treating her after her near break at Torfan. She wondered if she'd lost her mind at some point. Was this a mental hospital? How did she get here? What happened to the Normandy, her crew? Liara?

She sighed. No point standing here like an idiot. She didn't need to use the restroom, so she walked out the door, tucking her notebook into the waistband of her pants in the small of her back.

There were two doors on either side of her own, all ajar, and then a short expanse of walls – bare steel – that curved inwards to meet the edge of a corridor stretching in front of her. The walls of the corridor were pierced by heavy armaglass portholes, and she walked forward, looking out of one.

Bright lights illuminated a seafloor, waving coral and strange sickle-shaped fish with no eyes moving through the green-tinted water. She was in some underwater base? Most mental hospitals weren't built underwater.

"Okay, what in the actual fuck is going on here?"

There was no answer, and she huffed and walked quickly through the hallway. She heard a rumbling sound, and a heavy metal door slid down behind her, sealing off the room she'd awoken in, bare blank metal.

Well, that was _creepy_.

"...great. I'm in some nutjob's secret fucking ocean base." She wished she had a weapon, or her bio-amp, but she remembered Ahern's stern advice – everything was a weapon, including her own body.

She reached the far door, which slid open, and stepped through it.

The room she was now in, as the door shut behind her and locked, was strange indeed. It was large, twenty by twenty, and the far wall was a thick but clear armaglass barrier pierced by a single archway currently blocked by a kinetic barrier. The floor was more hardwood decking – expensive shit – and a thick rug of plain black wool in hexagonical shape sat in the middle of the room, trimmed in burnt orange.

A comfortable leather chair flanked by a small black metallic table sat in the middle of the rug. A pack of expensive looking cigarettes, an ashtray, a lighter, a bottle of scotch, and a single crystal cut tumbler sat on the table. A low shelf below the table surface held a small , clear plastic bucket filled with ice.

The armaglass was currently smoked and dark, and the voice sounded from a speaker implanted in the wall, the same voice as before. "Please, have a seat. Have a smoke or a drink if that will settle your nerves, Ms. Shepard. I'll be down very shortly to speak with you."

She gritted her teeth. "Am I a prisoner?"

There was no response. She stewed in her own frustration for nearly a minute before giving an exasperated sigh and sitting in the chair. It was extremely comfortable, with leather padding and curved, sturdy feeling steel armrests.

Another twenty seconds passed, and she finally snatched the pack of cigarettes, examining it.

They were an expensive Bekenstein brand, one she'd smoked a few times in her time with the 2 RRU. Someone had studied her pretty well. She lit one, inhaling deeply, the fragrance of the cigarette crisply moving through her body.

A few seconds later, she heard a muted thump, and the armaglass began changing hues, before going suddenly transparent.

The room beyond was a mirror of her own, with a single heavy doorway leading out. Sitting in a chair to her left was an asari. She wore a long black gown with a repeating pattern of burnt orange hexagons diagonally down the bodice, a gray-black shawl with a hexagon pattern to it, and simple slippers on her feet. She was a darker blue than Liara, with complicated, almost sinister looking black facial markings, narrow cruel purple eyes, and thin, curved lips.

Where Liara was elegant and innocent, this asari looked sophisticated and sensual, but there was a hard edge to her gaze that made Shepard nervous.

To Shepard's right sat a human woman. She had clear green eyes and a wide smile, even if her jaw was a touch prominent. Messy red hair perched atop her head, and she wore a white lab coat over a black jumpsuit of some kind, with combat boots on her feet. She had a data-padd in her hands, and looked a bit nervous even with the smile.

Shepard glanced between them. "Okay, where the fuck am I and what the fuck is going on?"

The asari woman spoke first. "Ms. Shepard, my name is Trellani."

Shepard's eyes widened. She recognized that name, from her time with Liara. "You're some kind of asari terrorist? The fuck is going on?"

The asari gave her a smile that didn't comfort Shepard in the least. "That is ... one way to look at my past history, I suppose. Although that would be about as fair as calling you a genocidal murderer for your role in destroying the rachni. Those who do not know you should not judge you. I would ask the same courtesy."

Shepard didn't like her tone, but shrugged. "You aren't with the Asari Republic, or the Alliance."

The smile widened. "No."

Shepard sat back. "So I'm a prisoner."

The eyes danced with mirth. "No. Well, technically, at least until we've finished this conversation, you are. But once we're done and you've spoken with our superior, if you really want to leave, we'll be happy to let you go. We have no _legal_ rights to detain you."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. The subtle stress on the word legal made her worried. "Alright. I interrupted you. Go on."

Trellani inclined her head and made a gesture of siari. "As I said, my name is Trellani. My associate is Doctor Kelly Chambers, a psychologist and councilor. We are here to attempt to answer the many questions you have and offer you an opportunity."

Shepard folded her arms. "Is that so? First question – where the fuck have you put my wife?"

Trellani's eyes flickered with something like pain and pity, and the human woman licked her lips and spoke, her voice quiet, but with a sympathetic tone. "Ms. Shepard, I have some bad news for you. Actually, I have quite a bit of bad news for you."

Shepard felt dread curl into her stomach. "No. No no no. She's not dead. She can't be dead. I was... I was on the Normandy. I got her away. I remember that."

She gripped the edge of the chair. "Did they kill her? Why? They were coming for ME!"

Chambers spread her hands slowly. "Ma'am, what you remember is correct. The people who attacked your ship left after destroying the Normandy, and Liara T'Soni escaped unharmed."

Shepard paused, confused and scared and upset. "Wait, what?"

Kelly took a deep breath. "Please, I ask you just to listen. Your ship was shot down. You were still on it, and you impacted with the planet Alchera, but your last minute attack on the alien attackers drove them away. You lost only nine crew members in the attack, all ops techs."

Kelly continued, the green eyes holding hers, not looking away. "Liara and the rest of your friends returned to Alliance space...but the Alliance did not recover your body from the wreckage."

Shepard felt as if she was dizzy. "My...body?" She paused. "Wait. I'm …dead? Am I me? What … am I some kind of clone?"

Trellani spoke, a single sharp word. "No." A pause. "You died. Your Alliance did not want to risk combat with Aria to recover your body. The Shadow Broker schemed with certain parties to recover your body and sell it to the Collectors."

Shepard's mouth trembled.

Trellani continued, her voice cool and hard. "Your corpse was shipped to Omega. But your bondmate, along with several of your friends and some assistance from the group we are with, assaulted the station. We recovered your body, and fled. In the fighting, your bondmate was killed. Along with Garrus Vakarian, Telanya Nasan, and Beatrice Shields."

Pain washed through Shepard's mind. "I..."

She buried her face in her hands. Liara was dead. She struggled to comprehend that statement, and her mind just refused to do so. After a long moment, she exhaled and looked up. "If I died, why am I talking to you?"

Kelly spoke again. "Our organization revived you."

Shepard's eyes snapped to meet hers. "I was fucking dead! You can't bring back the dead!"

Trellani nodded. "Yes, I know. I saw you upon arrival. You were extremely dead. But science marches ever onwards...and it seems even death hath no dominion over you."

Shepard was speechless. She'd died. She was alive. Liara was dead. Garrus … Tel. Shields. What in God's name was Bea doing there and why would she die for her?

Liara. Was dead. She couldn't even figure out how to process that thought. Shepard's brain fumbled for stability. For something to say. Emotions she couldn't describe swept through her and she found herself shaking, biting her lip, as her vision blurred.

She wiped her eyes angrily. "You brought me back. Bring Liara back."

Trellani looked at her sadly. "We cannot. We had your entire body, or at least most of it. The only thing we could salvage of your bondmate was...not enough to revive her. I know your pain, child. I have lost a bondmate, one cruelly murdered. My entire family died, while I was helpless to stop it. The soul is empty, no fire races through the blood, and every memory becomes a knife."

Shepard felt the impact of her words somewhere inside. She met the gaze, the sad knowledge those old eyes held, and felt fresh tears. "I...why in fuck would you bring me back to … when..."

Kelly Chambers bit her lip again and spoke gently. "Because the Broker is the one responsible for your death, and the destruction of the Normandy. And because, if our information and surmises are correct, he is working for the Reapers."

Something slowly descended on Shepard. It wasn't a thought, or an emotion. It wasn't a state of mind, it was like a switch flicking on. Or off. A single, solitary pulse of something so far beyond hatred as to have no clear name.

She heard her own voice speak, as if from a distance. "The Shadow Broker destroyed my ship, and killed me. And he was involved in Liara's death?"

Trellani gave a single slow nod, and Shepard trembled with rage. Burning, searing rage. She gripped the steel arms of the chair – and then blinked, shocked out of her anger, as they crumpled like cardboard under her grip, the thick metal warped and buckled.

She lifted her hand to look at it, and found it wasn't even bruised. She then looked up at the expression on Kelly Chambers face, and took a deep breath.

"I think you two need to explain a few things to me more clearly."

**O-TWCD-O**

"Let me get this straight." Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "You resurrected me using some kind of techno-magic bullshit that I understood six words of, but you don't know how long it will keep me alive. You've crammed me full of technology even a goddamned AI of the Inusannon can't be sure it understands, and I might fucking melt or blow up or have my fucking eyes fly right out my skull, if my biotics don't set me on fire. On the plus side, my tits are bigger."

She set her jaw. "The Broker might _possibly_ be _maybe_ working with Collectors, who might _possibly_ maybe be the scouts or spies or fucking heralds or some other shit for the Reapers, who haven't made any moves in the past two years I've been dead. But you aren't sure, and all you have is a bunch of goddamned hunches."

"Most of my friends are dead, fucked in the head, or disgraced. The man I look at like my father is in a motherfucking mental hospital, General von Grath is in exile, the Alliance is being run by a zombie and Terra fucking Firma, and I've been resurrected by, of all the fucking people in the galaxy, a kinder gentler Cerberus."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "On top of everything else, not only did you pack of fuckups get my wife and one of my best friends and HIS wife killed, but you also managed to piss off the Council so bad they trust the fucking Broker's word, when he's the bastard who set me up to get killed in the first place!"

She exhaled, jaw clenching. "And now you tell me some fucker is outright stealing humans from colonies, and no one is doing shit about it but you. Cerberus. The people who thought cutting up aliens was nifty. And you want me to work with you."

Chambers bit her lip and nodded. "A bit more colorful than my summary...but yes."

Shepard folded her arms. "Y'know, maybe I'm just a petty and ungrateful bitch, but what I'm not hearing is the part where I shouldn't go through this fucking base and execute every single goddamned one of you."

Trellani smiled. "There are three reasons for that. First, it would be utterly unproductive. We didn't kill you, Shepard. If anything, despite our unorthodox approach...we have given you an opportunity to avenge your own death, and that of your loved ones."

Shepard snarled. "They wouldn't be fucking DEAD if you hadn't dragged them into it!"

Trellani laughed quietly at her."Are you truly that naive? I have not bonded with you, but in the course of stabilizing your spirit and mind so that your severance from your wife's bond would not kill you, I saw deeply into you. The AIS would have killed Liara as soon as they could, on the off chance she knew anything that you did. The Commissars knew Aethyta had done a link with her daughter at least once and would have gone after her too. The main reason the Illusive Man made the offer is that those orders were already being prepared when we hustled them off Earth."

Shepard blinked. "You're lying. You have to be. I know the SA isn't all lights and goodness, but – "

Trellani smiled coldly. "You know full well the Asari Republic would not be at all displeased if Liara suffered an accident. There were elements on Earth who found the idea of an asari member of the Lords of Sol insulting. They tolerated it when it was her married to you, but her alone? Not something they were prepared to accept." The asari's words became clipped and hard. "Do you think your friend Jiong could have stopped them?"

She leaned back. "I will admit that Mr. Vakarian and the clanless girl might have survived. But we had no other assets to draw on, Shepard. We sent everyone we did have along for the ride and none of them returned unscathed, nor did Tali'Zorah."

Shepard's eyes snapped up. "I want to see her."

Kelly nodded., tapping her omni-tool. "And you will. But...please, listen to the Matriarch."

Trellani smiled again. "The second reason you shouldn't act against us, and instead work with us, is that no one is doing anything about the missing colonists. The Alliance does not care, as each loss frightens those colonies who attempt to remain independent, driving them back under the Alliance banner. The Council will not act because they believe the perpetrator is Aria, or perhaps slavers. There is little to no evidence they will listen to that proves otherwise. Only Cerberus – which, given they employ me, and Ms. Zorah, should tell you their stances and opinions on alien life are not what you think they are – is taking any action. Are you going to simply let this continue while these helpless people are enslaved, or butchered – or worse?"

Shepard grit her teeth. They had a point.

Trellani folded her arms. "Finally...I have been where you are. I have suffered and watched my soul bleed and my emotions darken, the small light I had left in my life eventually fading to nothing but bitter hate and a need for revenge. In many ways your initial statement about me was right. I am indeed a terrorist. Why else would I be here, in the arms of Cerberus?"

She paused. "But you do not have to venture down those dark tides with no goal. We cannot restore the light of your bondmate to you. But you can redeem yourself. Act to stem the abuses and horrors of your own government. Lead the fight against the Reapers, when they come. Help those of your friends who are still alive, who suffer or are hurt. The alternative is to throw away all the effort spent on bringing you back and turn your back on the fate of everyone."

She leaned back. "A failure of monumental proportions."

Shepard flinched. She wanted to sleep, to drink. She wanted to smash her head against a wall and fall into a boneless pile and cry, and she couldn't let herself do that.

She understood all too well what was being asked of her. She trusted the Illusive Man to do what was best for him, and whatever fucked up vision he had in his head of humanity. This Trellani was clearly damaged and had seen some things – that didn't mean she was being straight with her or that what came out of her mouth was the truth.

The Chambers woman seemed the most open, the most empathetic. She didn't shade what she said, but she looked upset to have to relate it all to Shepard. Maybe she was just faking – shrinks couldn't be trusted, after all.

It didn't matter. She had no illusions – if she didn't play along, they'd probably kill her and start over. Anyone who had the money and tech to bring the dead back to life wouldn't be interested in no for an answer.

Seconds ticked by, and Shepard licked her lips. They still felt off. Too soft. Too...perfect. She was always having chapped lips, and now they would never chap again.

"I need more answers. About what you fucking people did to me. On what I'd be expected to do. On … what I am going to be asked to do. Where my friends are." She stiffened. "And I want Tali here. Now. Before I do or say anything else."

Trellani traded a long glance with Chambers, who shrugged and spoke. "She's on her way now. Do you want to speak to her privately, or did you want me to stay?"

Shepard glanced around the room. "You expect me to believe you don't have cameras and microphones in this room?"

Chambers shook her head. "No, we do. But I do expect you to believe Tali is good enough to shut them off if you told her to...and that she certainly would rather follow your instructions than ours in that regard."

Shepard exhaled. "Hah. Then yeah, privacy please."

The two females got up and left, the door shutting behind them. Shepard lit another cigarette. She didn't trust the drink – and she needed a clear head anyway, even if her heart was heavy.

She hated her cybernetic eyes. They didn't hurt when she cried, just kept on working as if nothing was wrong. She tried to clear her head, wiping her treacherous eyes again, smoking and tapping her feet nervously.

The door opened, and a tall quarian woman stepped through. Shepard blinked. "Tali?"

The quarian touched a panel on her omni-tool, and the red-tinted faceplate changed to a transparent version, revealing Tali's alien, beautiful features. She had aged. Her eyes were wider, brighter, and her cheekbones shifted.

Her reik was now a dark black with hard red trim and swirling patterns of dark gray, wrapped in a different fashion around her body. She was taller, more curvy, and the leather-texture and black metallic bodysuit she wore looked somehow more sexualized, or just tighter. Heavy boots with a holster holding some kind of knives on either side dominated her lower body.

Her arm was cybernetics, heavy myomer muscle in black and silver, defiantly stamped with, to Shepard's horror, a Cerberus emblem. Tali finally spoke, her voice hesitant, deeper and more husky than Shepard remembered, but still hers.

"They really did it. Keelah. Sara..."

Shepard managed a weak smile."You grew up."

Tali gave a small start, and then her hands came together, one hand wrapping around her other wrist rather than wringing together as she used to. "I had to. It...it has been an ugly two years. More than two years. And I couldn't be a kid anymore."

Tali sat down carefully, still leaving her faceplate transparent. Shepard frowned. "Could you have done that before? With the faceplate?"

Tali shook her head. "It's a … it's something Jeff wanted." She sighed. "How do you...feel? I mean...oh what a stupid question. Babbling. Are you … okay? I mean I know you aren't but..." Tali trailed off, eyes seeking hers, and the worry was clear on her face.

She sighed. "No. I... Wait. Before we talk, I need you to do something. The Chambers woman said you could shutdown their cameras."

Tali sighed. "Ugh. These people are beyond paranoid. Yes, I can fix that much." She tapped her omni-tool, and the lights in the room flickered. "That should block them, for now. They may be able to see us, but they definitely can't hear us."

She paused. "So. Are you okay or not, Sara? Did they hurt you? I know you must be … confused. I would be."

Shepard shook her head. "No. I mean yes. Shit. I'm not hurt. I actually feel fine. It's just everything is so fucking … fucked. I'm...dead. But not dead. Liara is gone. All I did...everything. Everything is fucked. It feels like...yesterday. I was on top of the world, joking in the Normandy cockpit, sipping good coffee. Then fire. Then this."

She looked up. "I'm not making any sense, but nothing is making any sense to me. My world is ashes right now. And Cerberus..."

Tali nodded. "I can't imagine how you must feel. I'm so sorry, Shepard. I … I wasn't much help when we went to get you. I got in the way, got my arm blown off. If they hadn't had to cover me, maybe..."

Shepard held up a hand. "Don't, Tali. There's only one person responsible for this outrageous bullshit, and it's the fucking Broker. I'm going to pull his motherfucking spine out through his ass, then choke him with it. He did this. Not you. Don't beat yourself up."

Tali nodded. "I... well. You're a little late to stop that. I've learned a lesson from it, a sad and cruel one. But I'm happy you don't hate me."

Shepard sighed. "I don't know what I feel, Tali. I don't hate you. You're still the person I dragged into this bullshit. But you've certainly changed. Last time I saw you, you didn't sport that logo on your shoulder."

Tali's voice dropped a notch, and her hand crossed her chest, tracing the Cerberus hexagon. "Yes, well. My people have a saying. 'One follows where one is welcome.' Last time you saw me, my bosh'tet of a father hadn't tried to kill my husband or throw me in a jail cell for my choices in life."

Shepard's jaw dropped. "W-what?"

Tali folded her arms. "My father – Admiral Rael'Zorah – was displeased when we returned to the Flotilla – Jeff and I. The Alliance...threw us out. Said we were acting in a manner unbecoming to chase your body down and bring you back. General von Grath tried to cover for us. So did Jiong. Didn't help. They gave us less than honorable discharges and told us to get lost."

Shepard snarled, but Tali shrugged. "We had almost no money, and no where to go. So we went to the Flotilla. I had no choices, and neither did Jeff. I knew my father would not take us being together well, but I didn't think he'd..."

She closed her glowing eyes. "He...struck Jeff. Hard enough to … hurt him. Badly. He was going to kill him, and Admiral Han'Gerrel tried to stop him. He broke Han'Gerrel's arm and was going to shoot Jeff to death on the bridge before I shot him first."

Shepard's eyes widened more. "You shot your dad?"

Tali's slender features behind the mask twisted into a smile. "I sure did. Marines hauled me off, hauled Jeff off. I was tried. For treason. Assault. Attempted murder. The Flotilla was in an uproar. The trial..."

She trailed off, and clenched a fist. Shepard watched anger and fury mar the gentle beauty of her friend's face, the eyes burning with hatred, and then Tali sighed, and closed her eyes. "I was stripped of my rank, my Family, and exiled. Jeff was beaten, they stole the eezo from his braces. And they dumped us on the Citadel."

Shepard clenched her own fist, but was careful not to fuck up her chair any more than she already had. "I knew your dad was a first-class dick, but this..."

Tali sighed. "I … I don't know. I've had a lot of time to think about it. He was under a lot of pressure – the first world my people tried to colonize turned out badly, and he was... not acting like himself. And I think in his way he loved me, but his love was not the kind of love a father should have. He couldn't take the idea of losing me, like he lost my mother. His love was...it was twisted, Sara. Unhealthy. He wanted me to be safe even if that meant making me miserable, and what kind of love is that?"

She shrugged, running her hand along her thigh. "And when I told him I loved Jeff, he just lost it completely. He wanted to tell me who to marry, who to bear children with. How to live my life. How to think. I've hung around you too long, I think – my answer to him was 'fuck that shit.' He didn't take that well."

Despite herself, Shepard found herself smiling. "Good for you, Tali. What happened after the fucker threw you out? How did you end up with Cerberus?"

Tali looked at Shepard directly. "The Illusive Man rescued us. Got us off the Citadel. Cleaned up my … injuries. Replaced my cyberware, got me a new suit. Got us a clean room, paid for Jeff to have operations, proper medicine, therapy. Got me what I needed to remake braces. Gave him a chance to fly, put me in charge of …" She trailed off, and then smiled wickedly, displaying sharp teeth. "A little surprise for you when you woke up, eventually. A good surprise."

Shepard leaned back. "So he saved your lives. I guess. Do you trust him?"

Tali immediately shook her head. "The very first thing he tells you when you work for him is that you shouldn't trust him. You should believe in him to do what is best for humanity, then those aliens who are not hostile to humanity's survival. You should believe in him to level with you and tell you the truth. But he told me – and Jeff – that if it came down to it, he'd sacrifice us both in a second."

Shepard nodded. "Okay. But he lives up to his word?"

Tali nodded. "Yes. He's a sneaky bosh'tet , but he also rarely if ever promises anything. And if he does, he always follows through with it – and not just the letter of what he said, but the spirit of it. He's not a good man, I don't think. He probably wants to be. He's really, really good at controlling his body language, but there are times I've seen him and he is sad. Or upset. Or angry, I think, with himself."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "So he's not just some nut who hates aliens?"

Tali smiled. "The rumor is he's been sleeping with Matriarch Trellani for years and years. He almost never goes anywhere without her."

Shepard was surprised. The leader of a pack of racist nuts banging an asari just didn't compute. "Fine. Does he have other aliens working for him beside you?"

Tali sighed. "There is one other quarian...another exile, Kiala'Raan, who I brought in. Other than us and Trellani, no. But he's not ..." She paused. "He sat Jeff and I down one day and explained why Cerberus was so anti-alien. About some of the things the Salarian Union and the Asari Republic were doing, and how much they were messing with the Turian Hierarchy. And he showed me things...Council discussions he'd gotten a hold of, from centuries back, where the asari wrote my people off on purpose, hoping we would all get killed! They were going to try and take over our worlds and steal our technology, after the geth destroyed us."

Shepard sighed. "Shocking."

Tali shrugged. "Jeff doesn't trust him...but that's okay. He thinks Jeff is funny. And as long as he keep having him test new designs, Jeff is … pretty happy. We're both happy. I won't say that just because he treats us well you should trust him. I know I'm ...um, biased?" She smiled sadly. "And I won't say that everyone in Cerberus is wild about aliens either. But not a single one of them, even the nasty ones like Minsta, are really bad people. I think they're frustrated and scared."

Shepard thought about that, then shook her head. "That doesn't excuse the shit they did."

Tali nodded. "I fully agree. But this Cerberus doesn't do that anymore. At least, not that I've seen. It's all spying and finances and things like that. They are keeping a pretty low profile." She shrugged. "And after some of what the Illusive Man told us and showed us..."

She fingered the insignia again and lifted her chin. "They didn't make me wear this. I asked for it. Like I said...I'm happy here."

Shepard nodded. At least two of her friends were okay, then. "That's...that's good, Tali." She exhaled. "Now. Should I listen to him?"

Tali didn't say anything for almost ten seconds before slowly nodding. "I think, Sara, if he went to all the trouble of bringing you back from the dead – and the other things he's doing, in hopes you'll work with him – you can at least listen. He may be treating Jeff and I nice just to have me feel like you can trust him...but .. I don't know."

The quarian woman folded her arms. "It would be like him to be nice to us just so you think he's worth trusting, if you get what I'm saying. But it would also be like the Illusive Man to actually be wanting to help. I don't know all the details of what went on the past, but … I did some digging. The Systems Alliance used to be in charge of Cerberus...and gave him his orders. I think if he's really evil, I'd have seen it by now."

Tali looked at her. "Whatever you decide, Jeff and I will have your back either way. When he told us what he was planning, we demanded that. You needed people to be here when you … woke up, that you could trust. I'm in this for you – Jeff and I both are."

Shepard smiled. "I get it, Tali. And … thank you." She leaned back, thinking.

She knew her mind wasn't working right, at the moment. Her emotions were a mess, she was angry, upset, weepy, and, to her own surprise, more than a little scared. Death, after all, was supposed to be it.

_Goddamn it, Death, even when you take me to third base you fuck up and prematurely ejaculate. I'm done with your ass. _

Shepard suspected the Illusive Man didn't employ Tali and Joker out of the sheer, baby-snuggling goodness of his heart. He wanted them to feel grateful, and use that gratitude as a way to convince her to listen to whatever shit he had planned. On the other hand, she couldn't imagine Jeff and Tali just going along with this nut if he really was some kind of terrorist tool.

But why bring her back at all? God only knew how much it cost to bring her back. And yet he'd chosen to do so. So he had some specific, clear goal in mind for her, and she only had to figure out if she wanted to listen to it, or see if she could punch through this armaglass wall as easily as she crushed the chair handle.

Given that it was the fucking Illusive Man, she guessed if she tried to escape it would fail, but damn it would feel good. She flexed her hand, wondering what they had done to her, and then looked up at Tali.

"We'll...talk later. Go tell Chambers I have a couple of questions for her."

Tali nodded, blanking her faceplate. "I will. It ...it's good to see you up, Sara. I know this sounds selfish...but I .. I missed you."

Shepard swallowed and smiled. "Well...I'm here now. We'll see how it all ends up."

**O-TWCD-O**

It took about ten minutes for Kelly Chambers to return. Shepard paced the small room, and finally broke down and had a small drink.

It was scotch – Vindrasian, if she remembered correctly. From Terra Nova. Anderson's favorite. She scowled as she recalled what Chambers and Trellani had told her in their explanations.

The idea that she had been dead for two years was hard to get around, to deal with. She didn't feel like she'd died. She remembered the pain, the burning, the going black. But there was no angelic choir or burning hell pit. No memories of any kind.

It was basically as if she'd dozed off and woken back up. Except she wasn't sure what the hell they'd done to her. She wasn't educated enough to follow some all of Chamber's complex explanations, but she got the gist.

They'd tricked her body into thinking it wasn't dead, stuffed her full of crap that made her go, then slapped a picture-perfect set of skin cloned up from her real skin over it. Except it wasn't quite skin. Something else.

Her body was some freakish thing, and she imagined she could hear gears grinding away inside her. She knew it was a silly thing, but she felt that way emotionally. The scary part was that physically she felt fine. Normal, even. If they'd lied and said she magically survived the crash and they did some plastic surgery on her, she wouldn't have known the difference.

Well, except for crushing a solid steel armrest like a tin can. That had possibilities, both scary and exhilarating, but she was ambivalent about being turned into some kind of zombie robot thing.

She couldn't really verify or disprove what they'd done to her until she got away from this pack of lunatics and to a medical facility, but that raised it's own problems. She was dead. She'd been dead. If she just showed up in Alliance space, she wouldn't be surprised if they shot her dead on the spot.

She was trying very hard not to think about Liara, and keep her anger, frustration and fear going. If she sat down and really thought about all the ramifications of this, she felt like she would just go mad. She had to be tactical. Channel Ahern. Be fucking unpredictable.

Anderson was basically locked up in a loony bin. The details, they didn't know, and maybe it didn't matter. Ash was alive, but on some kind of classified mission from the Alliance. Humanity's Spectre was now Delacor, of all the fucking people. He worked solo, his last Spectre partner had gotten killed by a meteor strike.

She resisted an urge to giggle madly at that. She'd known that fucker was walking bad luck, and there was the proof.

They weren't sure where Adams was, but Pressly was in a hospital on Dirth, tended to by his family, suffering from some minor brain damage and physically crippled. The Alliance had paid for cybernetic reconstruction but Pressly had declined, deciding he'd had enough of service. She found that strange, and wondered what the real story was.

Her own status was actually quite interesting. Her Family – Shepard-T'Soni – still was technical extant, as once a Family was created it was not usually removed from the Honor Roster. There was talk in some corners of 'adopting' someone into the name of Shepard (and of course, dropping the T'Soni part). The small list of weapon designs she'd given to Mayor Inman had paid off handsomely with the creation of a small weapons firm called Shepard Memorial Industries, owned – to her mix of amusement and disgust – by her old weapons officer, Colms.

Chambers didn't know exactly where most of the rest of her people were, except that none of them had died recently. She told Shepard that Von Grath had quietly retired away to some outer colony world with Chakwas of all people, dropping out of the public eye while his father handed the Family over to a younger brother. President Windsor had been forced out of office from medical complications, grief and scandal. Turned out Eliza wasn't his niece, but his daughter from an affair, carefully smuggled into the family by his brother and raised as his own.

Shepard wasn't surprised that bitch al-Jiliani had broken that story. Windsor had a breakdown after Eliza died from more complications of her heavy wounds, and he never recovered physically or mentally. The Coleman Administration had collapsed when Saracino's girl-rape fetish came up – the bastard shot himself, but the Commissars burned and beheaded the corpse anyway.

The new administration had mostly been a compromise, but as time went on they were more and more isolationist. The new Terra Firma was a lot slicker, claiming they wanted 'peaceful co-existence' but 'cultural respect', while quietly sponsoring all kinds of underground terrorist activity.

The geth war had raged on for more than a year after her death, culminating in a massive battle barely four months back involving over five thousand ships. The geth base at a place called Haestrom had been shattered, and the geth splintered. But the Council losses were heavy and instead of going into finish them off, the Council had backed away, licking their wounds.

Goddamned cowards. The turians and humans had led every battle, the asari claiming they were 'keeping peace' in the outer Rim and along the borders of the Traverse.

All in all, the galaxy was about the same mess she'd left it in when she died. She was hardly surprised by that shit.

Chambers finally came back in, carrying a larger data-padd, and sat down. "I'm sorry for the delay...had to talk to a few people."

Shepard sat back down in her own chair, stubbing out her cigarette. "Whatever."

The young-looking psychologist smiled. "Ms. Zorah said you had a couple of questions for me. I hope I can be of service in answering them."

Shepard folded her arms, and crossed her legs. "Yeah. First, when are you letting me out of here?"

Chambers' expression became more serious. "That depends on you. As we told you, your physical strength and speed were augmented in your rebirth. The room is specially designed to contain you in case you get … well, violent. Not that I think that you will – but we like to take precautions, especially with such a traumatic set of events as you've awoken to."

Chambers bit her lip and continued. "To more fully answer your question, you'll be released as soon as you have a conversation with my boss. The Illusive Man."

Shepard snorted. "And why in fuck would I want to talk to him? 'Hey, thanks asshole, for bringing me back to life only to find everything I worked for is shit and the only person I loved is dead.' Doesn't sound like his speed."

Chambers sighed. "He has expended a great deal of effort to bring you back, and all he wants is for you to listen to him and hear him out for a small amount of time. Once you've done that and made your choices, you're free to go."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Made my choices?"

Kelly nodded. "Shepard, I've been instructed – and I have always advised – that we are not to lie to you, ever. He's going to ask you to work with us, to solve the colonist disappearances, to help fight the Reaper threat. The only two outcomes of that is you work with us, or you don't."

Chambers gave her a worried look. "If you choose not to work with us, then everyone here will evacuate onto several shuttles. You'll be routed to a hangar bay with a different shuttle, and you'll leave after our shuttles FTL away. The shuttle you will be provided has enough fuel – and speed – to get you to either Alliance space or to the Citadel. What you do after that point, if you don't want to work with us, is really up to you."

Shepard shook her head. "You expect me to believe if I say no he's just going to let me go?"

Chambers shrugged. "What you believe or don't believe is nothing in my control, Ms. Shepard. I can't say that your suspicion is unreasonable, but … if we just wanted to dominate you, we could have put some kind of limbic system override, or control chip, or something in your head. We could have messed with your memory or something. We didn't. The Illusive Man wants you as an ally, and that's not going to work if you look us as hostiles."

Shepard frowned. That still sounded crazy, to spend God knew how much on someone who could flip you off and throw up deuces. "And if I chose to work with you ...people?"

Chambers gave her a smile. "Then the discussion would be on what demands you had to agree to such a thing."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Demands?"

Chambers laughed. "I told him that you were unlikely to trust Cerberus – nor did the fact we brought you back to life win us any points in your head. I know he has plans for you, ideas – but he's also prepared to meet whatever requirements you have to feel like you can actually work with us." Her voice quieted a little. "Not like the Alliance or Citadel would welcome you back with open arms."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yeah, I thought about that."

Chambers made a motion with her hands."But we're not going to force you to work for us, that isn't our style. We can't just bark orders at you and expect you to fall in line, or throw you into space with a ship and a bug net and tell you to stop the Collectors."

Shepard found herself trying not to smile at the phrasing Chambers used. "Fine. And once I've talked to him, you let me out of this fancy cage, what's to stop me from killing you all?"

Chambers eyes met hers. Shepard was impressed to see despite more than a flicker of fear, there was also pity and determination there. "Nothing. No one involved in your resurrection is innocent, Shepard. We've done things that I'm sure you might see as criminal. We can't stop you from leaving without alienating you, and if you choose to try and deceive us and kill the people here, we'll fight – but probably lose. Even with no biotics and no weapons, what we've done to you is enough you could kill most of us bare handed."

Chambers exhaled. "But the numbers we've run, Ms. Shepard, tell us that you're the best shot we have at stopping the Collectors, at stopping the Reapers, at stopping the Broker. We can't get the Alliance to listen. We can't get the Council to listen. The Broker is convincing everyone the Reaper threat is far in the future. If you don't help, we'll be dead when the Reapers hit us anyway."

Chambers leaned back. "And personally? God, what kind of repressed and ungrateful bitch are you to kill people who brought you back from the dead without even hearing them out? Toss all the death threats you want, Ms. Shepard. Killing US won't bring your wife back, or Mr. Vakarian, or Ms. Nasan."

Shepard gritted her teeth. "You've got nerve."

Chambers shrugged. "Yeah, well. You're don't like listening to bullshit, so why give it to you?"

**O-TWCD-O**

The Illusive Man, Trellani and Miranda watched from another room as Chambers fenced words with Shepard.

"She really is good at this, Jack." Trellani's voice was rich with amusement, and he nodded.

"It helps when you have a complete psychological profile on who you're dealing with, and the manifests from the gray-box Even so, Shepard isn't a simple woman to understand, and Chambers has to punch her buttons and then deflect her anger."

He inhaled on his cigarette, as the two women began shouting at each other, and then smiled widely as Shepard punched the armaglass barrier. A faint spiderweb of cracks was the only effect.

Miranda looked alarmed. "I don't think this is the method we should be using...antagonizing Shepard -"

Harper shook his head. "She's not antagonizing Shepard, Miranda. She's letting her blow off anger, while carefully steering the conversation. Shepard has always been someone who can become very angry very fast, and has worked hard to control that. Chambers is merely draining it away."

He put out his cigarette. "I'd better get ready. You'll see, Miranda. This is going better than I expected." He paused. "Still, make sure the secondary kinetic barrier is in place. I would hate to be killed by my own handiwork."

**O-TWCD-O**

"That doesn't fucking justify the shit your people did in the past!"

Chambers rolled her eyes. "You know what? Fuck you. You want to claim you're so righteous, fine with me. But don't sit here and defend that pack of assholes running the Alliance. Cerberus isn't the ones creating monster humans, deliberately getting our own people killed, or selling Marines up the river. The things we did bad in the past are in the past."

Shepard glared. "So that means I should just cooperate with your pack of lunatics? Sing campfire songs, pretend all is fucking well? You could have been involved with the shit we found in your base for all I know, and now you want me to trust you assholes?"

Chambers folded her arms. "You don't know shit about me, Shepard. You don't know shit about anything. You did what you were told and had your eyes closed most of your life. And even when you had them opened for you – by information WE gave Kyle – you kept letting the Alliance lead you around by the nose."

She stood. "And now that we brought you back, you blame us for the fact that your life is a wreck. It's not our fault. We're doing what we can to fix it."

Shepard trembled, then looked away. Chamber's voice finally softened. "I understand your anger and frustration. Being told the only way to make things better is to trust a group with the past Cerberus has is probably not easy. I won't lie. I won't tell you that we are suddenly in love with aliens. But we're not in this just to protect humanity at this point. If the Reapers show up, everyone dies."

Shepard glared at her. "I think I know that a little better than you do. I have a goddamned movie in my head of it happening to the Protheans."

Chambers sighed and nodded. "I know. That's why you have to work with us – even if you don't like the idea. It won't turn you into a criminal. If we do something you find objectionable, then I know we'll end up paying for it."

The door on Chamber's half of the room chimed.

Shepard glanced up, and Chambers frowned. "One moment, please."

She went through the door, and Shepard turned to face the door, folding her arms, placing her weight on one leg and frowning.

A moment later, a familiar face walked through the door, a glass of brandy in one hand, lit cigarette in the other. He sat down on one of the chairs, setting his drink down on the small table, and then looked at her, the blue circles in his eyes glowing faintly.

"Hello, Shepard."

She forced down her anger, glaring. "So, you finally showed up. Your goddamned shrink pissed me the hell off."

Jack Harper nodded. "She does that, from time to time. She's very passionate about her work, and I think you upset her. She admires you greatly, but sometimes she is not very willing to examine her own biases."

He puffed on his cigarette. "But that's not important. It's time you and I had a face to face talk."

She gestured to the armaglass. "Yeah, with me sealed in this cell."

Harper took a deep breath, then touched his omni-tool. The kinetic barrier in the archway separating the two halves of the room shut off. "Bring the ashtray with you, please."

For two long seconds, Shepard contemplated crossing into the room and smashing her fist into the face of Jack Harper. She could feel her body responding. She knew she could probably move fast enough to do it before any kind of defenses could stop her.

He was testing her. The thought made her angrier for a moment, and then she forced it down. She picked up the ashtray and her own cigarettes, and walked through the archway.

She walked up to him, staring down as he sat in the chair, then with a grimace sat down herself, placing the ashtray on the table.

He smiled, and licked his lips. "Thank you. For not crushing my face...and the ashtray."

She stared at him. "You are the most insane sonofabitch I've ever seen."

His smile became almost a smirk. "I have a bad habit of gambling. I rarely do so with my own life, but there are times exceptions must be made, in order to make a point. This is one such time."

He dumped his ashes. "We don't have a control chip or any other method of stopping you. Right now, you can decide we need to go our separate ways. That isn't a trick. I need you either committed to working with me, or this entire endeavor has been pointless."

She narrowed her eyes. "Then why not just fuck with my head? Edit my memories?"

Harper sighed. "We will not be able to keep your existence a secret forever. At some point, you will be interacting with the Alliance, with the Council. They will interrogate you, examine you. You have to be able to have the free will to pass that, and the only way you can do so is by us not tampering with who you are."

He sipped his drink. "I don't need an obedient minion. I have enough of those. Nor do I need someone who is forced into servitude, who hates me and has no choices. That always ends up backfiring. What I need is an advocate. An ally, who will eventually bring more to the table than I put into it."

Shepard folded her arms. "And just how much did you put into it? Bringing me back?"

He met her gaze. "The cost of bringing you back alone came to six billion, four hundred million, seven thousand ninety two credits. It also cost us three suicides and two people going quietly insane, and another billion and a half in related costs."

The numbers washed over her. "That's … you could have created an entire fleet and army for what it cost to bring me back!"

He nodded. "Perhaps. Of course, building such and keeping it hidden would be very difficult. We have no association with the Systems Alliance, and thus can't hide in the open. And the truth of the matter is that a pure military force of that nature would be of no use to me. I have a target and no way to hit them, I have enemies and no locations to attack. What I need is not force, but information."

She frowned. "I'm not a spy, either."

He sat his drink on the table and adjusted his position in his chair. "A fact I'm well aware of. But you are tenacious and you can put together facts when you hunt down a target. You brought down Saren and Benezia, with remarkably little help from much of anyone, after all."

He took a drag on his cigarette. "Most importantly, Shepard, you are a symbol. You can't be corrupted or bribed. You won't tolerate criminality or injustice. An army of goons is merely the extended hand of their master. You working with me implies that Cerberus' goals are benign."

Shepard snorted. "You haven't convinced me of doing that, not even close. I'm glad you saved Joker and Tali, and I'll admit the things the Alliance and Council are doing sound pretty fucking stupid. But you must have your own badasses who could have checked into this Collector bullshit Trellani is telling me about."

Harper's smile was smaller. "I do, after a fashion. But they lack some of your skills. I have a skilled general. I have men who can assassinate, or assault. I have intelligence agents, psychological warfare specialists, and money to throw at problems. What I don't have is a leader who can bring these pieces together."

He pointed at her. "You are unique, Shepard. Not only for what you accomplished and represent, but what you have experienced. You faced and spoke with a Reaper, and defeated its plans. The fact the Broker had you killed tells me they fear you."

He leaned back. "And I will admit there are things you offer that I don't have. Once you bring down the Broker and the Collectors, and the Alliance and Council have no choice but to wake up and face reality, then your Spectre status and your nobility will be useful once more. Your heroism in stopping Saren, in stopping Balak, in defending humanity, has not been forgotten."

She pulled a grimace. "That's worth billions of credits?"

The Illusive Man shrugged. "I have more available. But I'll admit, the primary value you have is that you are unexpected. No one can imagine you have returned from the dead. You can operate with the knowledge and skills you have and the Broker can't prepare for it. His plans – and those of who he is working for – are predicated on you being dead. The value of shock and surprise will give us an advantage as well."

She narrowed her eyes. "You'll pardon me if that still seems a stretch. Two years and billions of credits, and yet you don't even know if I'll say yes or no? That's a hell of a gamble."

He chuckled. "I don't think you'll turn me down once you actually hear my offer, Shepard."


	3. Arc I : Hatred

_**A/N**:  
_

_My new favorite quote, courtesy of **MonkeyEpoxy** at the DLP Forums, that somehow I missed earlier:  
_

_"God, I **hate** the Alliance. Long live Cerberus. But at the same time, **fuck** Cerberus." _

_That alone lifted my spirits today, which I needed. I'll admit this chapter was ... ugly to write. It was venting, in some ways. Some of it is based on my own experiences. Most of us don't have bionic bones when we punch a wall and end up fucking our right hand up for the rest of our lives. _

_I don't want to dwell too much on this. For lots of reasons. Enough so that the point gets across, not so much to where it becomes repetitive. But it is repetitive, in your soul. It's always there. _

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

* * *

_'You want me to beg, Aria? Fine. *spits in face* I beg your pardon'  
_

_\- Aethyta to Aria, Omega  
_

* * *

Shepard leaned back in the chair, thinking, eyes watching the man sitting across from her carefully.

She knew she was face to face with probably one of the most dangerous human beings in the universe. Not in a physical sense – even before they'd turned her into the fucking bionic woman, she could have killed Harper with her bare hands in any of a dozen ways.

No, she had enough sense to realize he was dangerous because of his mind, and his ability to convince people. That's why he was risking his own neck to meet her face to face, to dismiss the barrier between them. Because he knew full well she would respect that risk.

It hit her that they had all the time in the world to figure her out. Decide exactly how to play her. She had to stay cool, despite the fact she felt like a wrung out dishrag, or the bastard would no doubt hustle her like he'd hustled her friends into chasing her body.

She blanked her features. Somehow that was easier now. Maybe because her face was fucking fake, or maybe because her heart was a hollow, cored out wreck. She could cry later. She could grieve later. Right now, she had to decide what the hell to do.

"Alright, convince me. But I'm only going to say this once, _Jack_. I don't like being played or lied to. I've had enough people try to use me for their own ends. I'm done with that shit."

Harper, for his part, merely leaned back in his own seat. "If you say so, Shepard. I have no intention – or need – to lie to you. And while I don't plan to manipulate you, I do plan to use you. When I say I need your help, that doesn't equate to an equal partnership. I have my strengths and weaknesses. So do you. Yours, right now, are more severe than mine."

She folded her arms. "That's not a real reassuring opening."

He lifted his cigarette to his lips, drawing on it before waving his free hand. "Chambers says you dislike elaborate talk, and prefer people to be direct. So I am going to indulge you in that regard. First, I will explain why the Alliance and the Council can't help you. Then, why Cerberus can. And finally, I'm going to show you why you will want our help."

She gave a small exhalation. "I'm listening."

He leaned forward. "The Alliance is involved in a number of troubling projects, Shepard. Before her death, Lady Liara informed one of my lieutenants that you had somehow learned about the NOVENSILES project."

Shepard gave a sharp inhalation, then nodded. "Kyle left me details about it." She winced. "Shit. Those were on the omni-tool of my suit."

Harper nodded sadly. "I know. When they recovered the Normandy, David Anderson demanded to be a part of the recovery team. He found the remains of your armor and helmet in the ruins, and we believe the reason he had a mental collapse is due to what he found on said omni-tool. We know the AIS committed him and seized the omni-tool."

She sighed, and he continued."After, Commissars raided your home on Intei'sai, your offices, and interrogated several other people. There were no arrests – from what I gathered, Anderson deleted whatever he found, and interrogation did not seem to bring out any additional details. Sources I have within the AIS suggest that they were able to recover only bits of data – enough to let them know you knew about things you weren't cleared for."

She nodded. "Yeah. I was surprised your group didn't play a role in that shit."

He grimaced. "I find the goals of NOVENSILES understandable in the abstract, but ultimately self-defeating in execution. Humanity can stand upon its own feet without distorting itself with a mishmash of stolen genetics and sickening experiments. What would be left of us after NOVENSILES would no longer be human. But even if that had value, the concept of enslaving the minds of humanity to handful of nobles and business men strikes me as the worst sort of tyranny possible."

He sipped his drink. "I did not create Cerberus to subjugate the human spirit, but to protect it. I won't shy away from extreme methods to do that, but I draw the line at turning us into monsters in the name of survival. And once we did it, the people behind it seem to think it would be accepted as a done deal. I disagree. I think the asari and salarians would do to us what they did to the rachni, or the krogan."

Shepard nodded slowly, and he continued. "Unfortunately, NOVENSILES is not the worst thing the people in power are up to, Shepard."

She looked up in shock, pushing her hair out of her face. "Are you fucking shitting me? What in fuck could be worse than that?"

His voice was sardonic. "Do you really want to know?"

She paused. Did she? Didn't she have enough bullshit on her plate already? She pushed that thought aside. "Yeah, I do."

He nodded. "I discovered almost eight months ago that – and I do not know how – Richard Williams survived the carefully choreographed destruction I crafted in having you take out the Cerberus HQ. He altered his size slightly, and his face, hair, and eyes are different – but one cannot conceal certain things done to his body, and he is now passing as Richard Manswell."

He paused. "We lost six deep cover operatives obtaining a single image of what Richard was studying in a secured location deep in the Black Zone, and came up with this." He tapped his omni-tool, and a grainy 2-D image flashed up, of an ominous black pyramid with sloping, organic sides and hard, jagged lines of baleful red running down its length. Strange shapes like runes or letters decorated the base.

Shepard had seen these before – on Noveria, at Virmire. She'd seen the script in the images Garrus sent of the slaver marks on the Tho'ian thralls. "...that's a Reaper artifact."

He nodded grimly. "And the fool is studying it. It looks like they attempted precautions against indoctrination at some point, and for some time, but these have begun to fall by the wayside. Vigil is convinced that at the very least Williams is most likely indoctrinated by this point – and we have no idea if the rest of Earth's upper nobility may be exposed."

He exhaled. "Since there is a test to detect indoctrinated personnel, we do know Alliance High Command – and the President – are both not indoctrinated. Nor are several other high ranking nobles who have visited the Citadel in recent months. But it is a very disturbing find, and makes any attempt to trust the Alliance … doubtful."

Shepard thought about this for a long moment. "I don't see why. Just notify high command. Hell, send the image anomalously. You're a sneaky bastard, you could figure out all kinds of ways to let them know."

He smiled. "I could. But think of what you are suggesting. No one outside of a handful of the highest ranking leaders and military commanders of each Citadel race know about the Reapers. Sending it to the media will only result in it being dismissed as a crank. Sending it to the Citadel will make the asari and salarians suspect the Alliance is hiding Reaper technology from them. They might even see humanity as a threat."

He puffed on his cigarette, then scrubbed it out. "I also am not in possession of any hard proof that even Williams, much less anyone else, is indoctrinated. Hurling accusations at the High Lords of Sol will only make them lock down harder than they already are, and I can't exactly produce Vigil to back up what I'm saying. I've carefully sent a few messages to some Alliance people I trust – but all they can do is keep an eye out."

He shifted in his chair. "Bottom line, however, is that the Alliance – and the people really in charge – know you are aware of NOVENSILES. They may or may not be indoctrinated. Most importantly, no one knows you have been brought back to life, and any investigation into your body will reveal certain … techniques used. Techniques that will let them know that Cerberus was involved in your resurrection, even if you don't tell them that. Taken together, there's a ninety-seven percent chance if you go back to them empty-handed, they'll kill you and this time make very sure you are dead."

She exhaled. "And that changes if I join up with Team Torture and the rest of your goons how?"

He gave her a mirthless, thin smile. "Because you will have a chance to contact them before you are in their power, armed with blackmail that will be openly transmitted to the Council if you suddenly die in their custody. Because, if our partnership works, you'll have evidence to show the Broker killed you. That the Broker was involved, I suspect, in the assassination attempt on Windsor. Most of all, that the Broker is lying about the Reaper threat and is in league with them."

He smiled a bit wider. "NOVENSILES has no value if aliens know about it. The people behind it know that. They will abandon the project – right now, it hasn't even gotten off the ground, with only two prototype templates made, both … somewhat flawed in execution. I'm sure they'll come up with something else appalling, but that gives you time – us time – to remove the people who aren't acting in humanity's best interest and replace them."

She frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose. She had to admit, that made a lot of sense. Not that she really trusted the Alliance anyway – having both Dragunov and Hazred basically admit to horrible shit and the intent to go right on doing horrible shit had broken a lot of her beliefs, and what she'd learned from Kyle's data had driven the point home. She'd just been too busy and distracted to face it.

"Fine. Fuck. What about the Council, then? I know their goddamned default answer to anything is no, followed by how I fucked something up, but I would think they would at least listen."

He sighed. "Perhaps they would. In the time you were being rebuilt, however, the galactic situation has changed. The quarians are now integrated into galactic society, and it has shifted the balance of power. The turian economy has stuttered, and in yet another example of how the asari-salarian bickering always has unintended fallout, this has kicked off a recession still being recovered from. The power blocks are now humans and quarians against the asari and salarians, and the turians are the wild card."

He finished his drink. "But that is not in our favor, sadly. Sparatus is the only Council member still pushing in any way to prepare now rather than later for the Reapers. He has become something of an outcast in Council votes because of it. The quarians want the geth exterminated, more colony worlds, and more market opportunities, while the salarians want the quarian fleet reduced to prevent them from flooding salarian markets, and so are undercutting quarian exports with inferior but cheaper goods. The asari are dealing with all-out cultural revolution, as another ten million asari fled the Republic to join the Alliance, and since then immigration has been heavily restricted, so much so that some asari are actually fleeing to join Aria."

He folded his arms. "The turians are distracted by … various uprisings. More than one. They're on the brink of another unification war, and Fedorian is losing the confidence of most of the turian people. The volus have begun buying up clans of vorcha from the krogan, breeding them and using them as a military force, to bolster their own bid for a council seat, even while they economically sabotage the elcor and their own bid for such."

Shepard stared at him. "...so, since I died, everyone in the fucking galaxy has become a goddamned idiot. Great."

He coughed, the sound one of mirth. "That is a fair way to put it, Shepard. In short, the Broker has convinced them the Reaper threat is now more than a century away. He has built some kind of massive detection array in the Shrike Abyssal, and the data from it would seem to indicate the Reapers are … hibernating. They've identified a mass of them - over a hundred and fifty at last count – but they are barely emitting any power."

Shepard frowned. "There's more of them than that. The vision – "

He nodded. "Vigil confirmed that. He won't give me the exact numbers...but he told me the Inusannon were active in more than one galaxy, and they personally confirmed the Reapers were as well. There are at least a thousand of them. Possibly... far more. Whatever game the Broker is playing, he's playing it well enough that no evidence I have can counter it. And as a result...the Council has long range plans for a military buildup, but it has slowed due to the economy."

He pulled out a fresh cigarette and lit it. "Right now, they're passing around various military spending bills to spur investment, but it isn't a coordinated effort. And not much of the technology gleaned from the Reaper, like self-healing metals, MHG weapons, or Reaper-based computer systems, has not entered even prototyping, much less general use."

Shepard closed her eyes. "Why the fuck did I nearly get killed showing them the fucking truth if they're going to ignore it?"

The Illusive Man sighed. "From what I saw, they were moving as rapidly as they could until the Broker started feeding them information saying the danger was a distant threat. I think, Shepard, that they listened. But once given evidence that the danger was not coming tomorrow...they acted like politicians are inclined to do."

He puffed at the cigarette. "I've made various attempts, using proxies, to change their viewpoints. I have not yet been successful. And given the cachet my organization acquired before I liberated it from the Alliance's control, I very strongly doubt they're going to listen to me."

He dumped his ashes, turning the edge of the fire on his cigarette around the rim of the ashtray idly. "I also have my doubts how much they would listen to you right now. The same problems with you running to the Alliance, given the source of your resurrection, apply to the Council as well. But more importantly, you can't go to them as a supplicant."

He smiled. "If you work with us, and we can prove the Broker was lying to them, it will raise your value – and the warnings you will present to them – to a new value. Once again, they will owe you a debt. Most importantly, Shepard, vindicating Sparatus may win you a staunch ally who doesn't play the backstabbing games of Tevos and Valern. They could always, after all, make up some kind of story about your death being fake. The Alliance would have little choice but to play along. Which would allow you, if we play our cards right, to give you back … some semblance of your former life."

The words rang hollow, and she exhaled. "Yeah. The part I don't want back." She bit her lip. She wouldn't let herself start crying again in front of this asshole. She angrily rubbed her eyes, and then compressed her lips into a thin line. "Let's say you've convinced me that running to either one of them is a bad idea. That doesn't mean I want to join you."

Harper nodded. "I can understand your hesitance. To you, Cerberus is a collection of monsters. And as you told me long ago, the fact that I was involved in Cerberus, and didn't stop their excesses, makes me , in your view, the worst kind of criminal."

She smiled thinly. "You seemed pretty confident I wouldn't get a chance to put a bullet in you at the time."

He nodded, and folded his hands in his lap. "And here I am. Nothing between me and you except cigarette smoke. You know at least some of what we've done in bringing you back. You could kill me right now."

She narrowed her eyes. "I doubt it. Either you have some sneaky way to stop it, or I wouldn't survive doing so."

He gave her a thin smile. "I'm sitting here – which, I assure you, is not without a certain level of trepidation – with no defenses, as I said, to make a point. I don't disavow what Cerberus did. It wasn't my idea, or by my instigation. I tried, where I could, to rein in some of the worst of it."

He stared at her. "I won't lie to your face and say I'm innocent, Shepard. I began Cerberus not as a terrorist organization, but a way to defend humanity. Our original goals, which we have now returned to, were to protect against economic sabotage, infiltration, and subversion of our government and intelligence systems."

He sighed. "Along the line I had to make … ugly calls. Decisions that got people killed. Decisions that ruined lives. And I became so good at doing so that the AIS wanted me to work for them directly. When I objected, my organization was … subverted, and I was put under the supervision of Rachel Florez and Richard Williams."

He held her gaze. "If I had refused to go along with what they wanted, they would have disposed of me. Dying in the name of righteousness never appealed to me."

She sneered. "So you just let them go along with their little butchering spree, and your hands were clean?"

He shook his head. "My hands aren't clean. Cerberus was _my_ organization, my design. Even if it was taken in a direction I hated, I still was responsible. I could have fled later, with cash and hidden away from the galaxy. I chose instead to clean up my mess. My plan saved your life, there on Edolus. It allowed you to bring Rachel to justice."

Shepard looked away. "It almost got Liara killed. It almost got me killed."

His voice was cool. "And at the time, that was an acceptable price to pay."

She almost did it. She felt her fist curl. "Harper, the next time you call Liara a 'price' you're going to need some really good reconstructive surgery." She opened her eyes, glaring at him, and he didn't flinch.

"You said you wanted the truth, with no bullshit. You wanted no manipulation. So I am doing what you asked. I didn't say it would be something I wanted to do, but Florez and Williams were a danger to humanity at that point, and in my opinion Williams still is one. If the plan had failed, I was very willing to sacrifice myself if need be to bring them down."

She exhaled. "Fine. It's good you at least have enough of a fucking spine to take responsibility for that unbelievable bullshit we saw in those bases. How the fuck do you sleep at night?"

He gave her a smile that while wry, almost looked tired. "With sleeping pills and more Wild Turkey than my doctor feels is safe. I'm on my second liver. That isn't the real thing you want to ask. You want to know how you can trust someone like me, who could stand by for even a second as those events happened?"

He folded his arms. "Bluntly, I had a choice. Me protesting and dying would have left those two free to continue what they were up to. Going along with it gave me a chance to stop it. I regret it happened. Cerberus was never about experimenting on humans, or killing aliens merely for being alien. I don't trust the Council of Matriarchs, or the SIX, or the Unbroken Circle. That doesn't mean I hate asari or salarians. I will freely admit I'm not fond of turians, as Saren Arterius and his brother killed my best friends, my pregnant fiance, and the woman who I looked at like a mother – simply because they could."

She swallowed, watching rage flicker ever so briefly across his eyes and then fade. She knew that feeling now. She knew it well. For the merest split second, she could understand.

If she could get her hands on who killed Liara, would she stop at anything to kill the fucker? She didn't think so. She would like to imagine she wouldn't hurt the innocent or weak...but she didn't know.

Rather than speak, she merely shook her head.

His voice was cold and bleak. "You're not alone in losing everything that matters, Shepard. And as time goes on, it becomes much easier to simply not care."

She laughed weakly. "I tried that before Liara. It's a pretty empty, stupid way to live."

He shrugged. "And sometimes it is all that allows one to function. I have burdens on my shoulders that I have to discharge before I can grieve. And so do you."

Her nostrils flared as she looked back up. "I don't owe anybody shit. Especially not you, motherfucker."

He made a motion with his hand. "No, you certainly don't. Some of my people thought you would be grateful for being resurrected, but they don't know what it's like to lose everything. There are many days death would be almost refreshing for me. But that was not what I meant by my words. You don't owe me. You owe the person who murdered your wife."

She trembled. "...yeah. Oh, fuck yeah. I owe him, alright. The Broker."

Harper paused, then shifted in the chair again. "Before I go into more detail about that, I said I'd explain why you should work with us. Are you willing, for the moment, to accept that the Alliance is not a viable choice, nor the Council?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I'm not willing to say you guys are worth trusting. The shit Saren did to you is bad. It's not an excuse for going full fucking Ardiente on a bunch of helpless aliens. Maybe you're right about staying alive to stop them down the line, but I don't have any proof that's how it all went down. For all I know, you were cool with it until they did something to piss you off, and double crossed them out of pique."

She smiled sadly a moment later. Until she'd done some studying, at Liara's and Jiong's prodding, she'd not even known what the word pique meant. She felt another bolt of pain in her mind and just concentrated on staring at Harper.

He shrugged. "And yet you haven't killed me. I think, Shepard, you don't trust me – but you understand, instinctively, that you need me anyway. And in return, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust."

He exhaled slowly. "The Alliance, until the latter part of your career, did not support you – and even then, the support you got was solely due to President Windsor blatantly smothering you with duties and rewards to both bind you to him as some kind of personal agent, and soothe your resentment of the Systems Alliance. You were not given the tools you needed to be effective, and you were never given the big picture. The Council was even worse – none of the vast resources of the Spectre offices were truly put at your disposal, such as Final Line soldiers, STG cells, or Council ships and funds."

She couldn't deny any of that, so just listened.

"I, on the other hand, am willing to give you not only whatever you require, but ensure you have more than enough information, discretion and authority to get the job done. I offer an entire financial network, capable of not only providing nearly limitless funding, but all manner of weapons, armor, vehicles, supplies, and technical equipment. I offer a large number of Alliance veterans – all people with absolutely no previous connections to Cerberus, and the access to verify that for yourself – to support your operations."

He continued, smiling as he did so. "I will give you a complete team of scientists and doctors to monitor your condition – some of the most talented specialists in the Alliance. You will have expert intelligence advice, strategic and tactical information from a very familiar general, and unlimited authority when it comes time to use and distribute these resources."

"The Alliance gave you one small ship, then a small number of ships. I will give you a fleet – complete with skilled, experienced commanders – and a flagship unmatched in the annals of history. I will give you soldiers and specialists who you have the final say in equipping and deploying. I will give you carte blance to craft your own approaches to problems, and while I reserve the right to put in my opinions and suggestions, once you decide on how to go after an objective, that is the way it will be done."

"I will give you a base of operations to strike out from, one where the people aboard – with a single exception – will answer to you, not me. If, at any point, you decide you can't or won't work with me, then the resources I hand over to you will be yours – they are not part of Cerberus."

"You will have unlimited access to my most powerful weapon – information. I once boasted to you that I'm the best information broker in the galaxy after the Shadow Broker himself. I maintain that has unchanged, and my network has widened. You will have the big picture view you need to make the choices that I put into your hands, with no vetting, no hidden agendas."

He folded his arms. "Most importantly, Shepard – I am confident I can give you a chance to not only take down the Broker but bring you the person directly responsible for the murder of Liara T'Soni, Garrus Vakarian, Aethyta Vasir, and Telanya Nasan."

She gritted her teeth. "And the price?"

He held out a single hand. "That you work with me, Shepard. That you help me stop the Collectors from taking any more humans. That you help me fight the Broker, to unveil his lies. That you aid me in finding a way to expose the threat of the Reapers, before it is too late. And ultimately, that you help me bring to justice the people who are going to eventually bring the Alliance to harm."

She stared at his outstretched hand. "If you lie to me, or double cross me even once – no matter why, no matter the justification – I am going to kill you. Are we clear?"

He nodded, and she shook her head. "Jesus fuck, I must be crazy." She shook his hand, and he smiled widely and stood.

"In that case, I have the first part of your payment ready. The person who killed your friends and wife was Tetrimus Rakora, the Hand of the Broker." He exhaled. "There is a video. Of him doing it. If you require proof."

She quailed inside, even as for some reason she stood. "God...I don't want to look at that." She glanced down. "But show me anyway."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard had a name for her hate now. Tetrimus.

She paused the armor-cam video, wiping her eyes angrily with her sleeve, and exhaled shakily.

She glanced around the room she was in as she tried for what felt like the hundredth time to pull her shit together. Like everything else in the small base, it was clean, modern, utilitarian and soulless. The room was maybe fifteen by fifteen, with a comfortable bed, a small bathroom, a comfy chair in front of the data terminal and haptic screen, a wide armaglass window looking out onto the seafloor, lit by lights from somewhere above.

The room was comfortable and quiet. After she'd agreed to work with Harper, he'd lead her out of the room, into another, wider corridor lined with underwater windows. He'd walked her personally to this very room, and told her the video was on the data terminal at the small desk inside.

He said someone would be by to talk to her later, and said she probably needed to rest and think about what they discussed. She'd agreed to that much. And had sat, and watched. Watched as her brave friends and the Cerberus people had fought so hard for her – bringing down that giant salarian, dozens of lethal looking Broker soldiers.

Watched them defeat P., who had caused this mess in the first place by looting her body like some kind of fucking relic.

Watched their relief when they though they had won. Their shock when the black-cloaked figure appeared.

She watched them fight, watched them lose, and watched them die.

Watched her wife die.

Watched her friends die.

Watched them be killed by a laughing, mocking Tetrimus, as he literally killed them the way she used to go through slavers. The only one who even _wounded _Tetrimus at all was Aethyta, and she was probably crushed to paste doing it.

She'd broken down crying, over and over, what felt like a dozen times. And she watched to the end, and again.

She'd watched the video of her friends dying three times and didn't know why she'd asked to see it in the first place. The look in Liara's eyes as she, Telanya and the slab of metal Tetrimus had cut with his biotic beam was haunting.

Liara had been smiling.

Shepard hung her head, letting herself slump in the chair. Despair and anger were battling back and forth across her head, her heart.

She let out another long breath, staring at her hands. The facts remained. Her love was dead. And someone was going to pay. There would be blood, and screaming, and begging, and then silence. Shepard was going to make the Broker die in slow fucking _agony_.

And Tetrimus? She was already thinking about how long a turian could live with all his plates pulled away from his body. She didn't give a shit how strong he was, or how he'd never been stopped. She was going tear the remaining mandible he had right off his face, shove it up his ass, and then beat him to death with his own fucking severed limbs.

And then she was going to let herself get really, really mad.

The fucker had just … butchered the entire team like they were children. She was sorry to know poor Aethyta had to see Liara die before she bought it too. She was sorry Garrus had to watch Telanya die.

Sorry, however, wasn't going to fix shit. She angrily cut the video off, then buried her face in her hands, and then screamed, and kept screaming.

A second later she had driven her fist through the data console, straight into the metallic desk. She screamed again and flung her arm, tearing it free of the metal. She punched the wall and it buckled around her fist, and then she hit it again, and again, until smears of blood stained the crumpled metal.

She sank to her knees, the pain in her hand, her arm barely even registering, letting herself go. She couldn't stop crying, clutching at her fake heart in her fake chest.

She wasn't supposed to be _alone_ again. Liara had promised. She'd promised. And now she was gone. It wasn't fucking fair.

Hadn't she done what she was told? She'd done it all, done everything right. Everything! She'd followed her fucking orders. She'd chased down lunatics. She'd risked her own life, the life of the people who reached out to her and supported her.

She'd gotten Alenko and Cole killed. She'd gotten her marines killed, her people blown out of space. Pressly in a lift chair. And for what? Why would she be given a glimpse of being happy, just to be thrown into fucking misery all over again, worse than before?

She didn't know how long she knelt there, but she realized at some point her hand had stopped bleeding, the artificial flesh slowly kneading together on its own. She knew something smelled sweet, like rose petals, and she felt tired. She didn't know how long she was there for, but she knew at some point someone came in and lifted her up, guiding her to the bed, and laying her down on it.

Something light and warm settled over her, and she wiped at her eyes. A gentle, elegant female voice spoke. "Just...rest. Please."

And Shepard did.

**O-TWCD-O**

Miranda Lawson, as a rule, rarely let herself get angry. She was often irritated. It was rather simple to draw her disdain. And exasperation, Jacob had once told her, was her default state it seemed.

But true anger? Rare.

Anger at the Illusive Man, who'd raised her from a frightened girl? Who had taught her everything she knew, encouraged her to master whatever she fancied? Who had named her his heir, who she secretly wished saw her as more than just a little child?

Anger at him was, until now, something she had never imagined.

She slammed the door open into the hangar bay, where he stood, his face immobile and emotionless, talking with Trellani and Chambers. She glared hard at both of them, and then at him. "We need to talk now, Mr. Harper."

He arched an eyebrow at the hardness of her tone, the heat in it, and nodded. "Doctor Chambers, see to it that Shepard is stable and comfortable. When she wakes up, let me know." He turned to face Miranda, who stomped into the nearby conference room.

When he got inside he shut the door after himself, and gave her a curious look. "You are not usually this agitated, Miranda."

She took a deep breath. "There was no need to inflict that on her, sir. She just completely came apart in her rooms and I had to gas her to get her to stop punching the wall before she knocked a hole in it. Why would you do that?"

The Illusive Man sighed, sitting down in one of the comfortable chairs in the room. "Miranda, I know you have a certain level of investment in this project."

She narrowed her eyes. "Investment? I spent the past two years going over every bit of Shepard's life, her body, her mind. I saw her dreams and worries. We know what she went through as a child, as a teen. The disgusting mess Florez sent her stumbling through. There's only so much mental damage a person can take before they break completely, sir, and she was almost there before she died!"

She shook her head. "Why show her that video?"

Harper gave her a hard look. "Because it had to be done. I won't pretend that I'm not manipulating her, Miranda. I just won't lie to her or tell her how she's being manipulated. You heard the way the conversation was going. She agreed, but she didn't really want to. She was reluctant, and she was more upset and conflicted than … committed. Chambers told me that Shepard was still in a state of shock, and that if she didn't move beyond that anything she agreed to now might not be true later."

He glanced away. "In a way, you did your job too well. She's not an emotionless thing. Whatever armor she had, whatever control she'd built up, is no longer working for her. And as Chambers pointed out to us, the longer she internalizes it and doesn't face the truth, the longer she'll put off making any real choices or decisions about her life."

Miranda gritted her teeth. "I thought we wanted this done right, not fast. She couldn't even be given a day to grieve without being hit in the face with the murder of her wife? Is that what that hack Chambers told you to do?"

Jack Harper smiled. "You never did like Kelly, because she didn't fall into a neat little box. She challenged you, made you feel as if you weren't in control. That was on purpose, Miranda – you needed someone to act as a foil, to make you question yourself."

He pulled his cigarettes out of his jacket, lighting one with his ever-present lighter. "Despite seeing Shepard in a clinical light for two years, you emphasize with her. That's good."

His voice hardened. "But let's not forget the goal of Project Revenant. I can't have Shepard making the choice to walk away from us. I need her committed and feeling that we're the only option that works. And I took a shot at making her really realize that her old life was gone, and we were her only choice if she wanted revenge."

She had never felt such an urge to punch someone in the face in her entire life. "With all due respect, sir, I think this was a mistake. It hurt her. When she's still trying to deal with the fact that she was dead and is now alive, that her entire life as she knows it is gone. I thought I was going to have control over how we proceeded in this – that is what you told me."

She saw something – she couldn't figure out the emotion – flicker over his face, before he nodded. "And you're right, Miranda. I did say that. I suppose, from your point of view, it looks as if I went over your head." He puffed on the cigarette, and leaned back in the chair a bit more. "But I make the calls as I see them – with the data I have at hand. I picked you to lead this operation because you can. I picked Chambers to handle the psychology because you haven't shown that you are very deft at it."

His voice gentled. "I don't want to pick at wounds you are all too familiar with, Miranda. You're very important to me. But we both know that some elements of human emotion seem to … elude you at times. It's why I haven't said anything about your little blow-up with Mr. Taylor. I saw it as a positive step, while it lasted."

She felt her face heat with embarrassment, and that only made her angrier. "And what does, exactly, that have to do with this?"

He inclined his head. "Chamber's assessment was based on fact, psychological assessment, and the needs of Cerberus. Yours, I worry, is based on empathy, jealousy, and outrage at having your judgment overruled. I trust you, and I trust that you will always perform to your best ability – but this operation can't afford to be sentimental. The needs of Cerberus come first."

Miranda found herself feeling disappointment. "I thought you, of all people, would at least have the decency to give her time to grieve, after your stories of how you never got that chance. I see I was wrong."

He exhaled. "She's grieving now, Miranda." His voice was suddenly tired. "If you are worried about her, the room I put her in has an observational window on level two. If that's all, I need to consult with Doctor Wilson on what medical equipment will be needed aboard her new ship."

Miranda whirled on her heel and left, slamming the conference room door behind her. Harper stared at the door for a long second, before sighing and putting out his cigarette in disgust.

"There are times I'm glad you never had to see the monster I've become, Eva."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard awoke, groggy. For a split second she thought she'd been having some kind of horrible dream, until she sat up and recognized her surroundings, the wrecked desk, the smashed terminal.

She felt...empty. Cold. Worn out and thin, like an old beaten up rug, tossed out in the rain and then flung over something to dry out. Her fake eyes were fine, but her eye-sockets were sore.

She stood up, noticing someone had put a blanket over her, and then stared at the wall. She shuddered when she realized she'd nearly punched a large dent into a solid steel wall a good five inches deep.

As she stared, there was a hesitant knock on the door. She glanced at it. "Come in."

The doorway opened, revealing a dark-haired, attractive woman in a thin black bodysuit under some kind of stylized lab coat. She was holding a pile of clothing, topped by a small black case. Deep blue eyes met her own and the woman stepped into the room, setting the items on the table by the doorway.

"Good morning, Shepard. I'm Miranda Lawson. I'm the leader and head researcher of Project Revenant, the process that returned you to life."

Shepard stared at her a moment before sighing. "You'll forgive me for not hugging you in appreciation."

The woman's eyes flickered to gaze at the floor as she nodded. "Yes. I understand completely. I brought you fresh clothing – and a makeup kit. I don't know if you are hungry or not, but there is breakfast set up in the hangar bay if you are interested."

Shepard arched an eyebrow."Oh, I still need to eat?"

Miranda's perfect lips quirked into a small smile. "Yes, Shepard. We didn't make you inhuman, no matter how strange things might feel at first. You still need to eat, drink, and perform other bodily functions." The woman faltered. "Although...we had to make a few alterations here and there. Certain hormonal adjustments weren't fully possible to implement, and some things have changed. You won't experience a period, for example. According to your records, that was a … delicate issue."

Shepard exhaled. "Having a bunch of assholes use broomsticks on you for fun when you're going through puberty doesn't do a lot of good, no. I won't miss that." She grimaced. "I appreciate the clothes. I... I'm not really hungry, though."

Miranda nodded. "I wasn't sure, but I didn't want to assume." She paused. "I cannot know what this must be like for you. I can say that the entire team that worked on bringing you back is also dedicated to maintaining your health. All of the team leads will be available to you at any time if you have any medical issues, and I will always be here if you need anything at all."

Shepard frowned. "Trellani said there would be medical complications, but didn't go into details."

Miranda folded her arms under her breasts, and gave a thin sort of smile. "I'm afraid so. We used the best technology there was – or invented a great deal of it – and Vigil was helpful in the process, but some of the things we had to do were more akin to patch jobs than true healing, and … well, you died. The body was never designed to be turned back on after that point, and a large part of the cyberware in you is simply repairing what will wear out."

Lawson made a gesture at her own stomach. "You have been given substantial bodily protection, and will be given very heavy armor, because if you take serious wounds to your internal organs or subsystems, you have a very low threshold for shock. The sort of wounds you took before your death would kill you now, simply by failing systems."

Shepard grimaced. "Wonderful."

Miranda straightened, her mane of black hair tumbling back as she tossed her head. "We won't let that happen. I may not be perfect, but I will do my very best to make your life as comfortable as possible."

She nodded, then hesitated. "Last night, that was you that got me into bed, wasn't it?"

Miranda nodded slowly. "Yes. I .. I want to apologize for what you were shown. I vehemently disagreed with the decision, and … while I've been a member of Cerberus for years and never had any fundamental disagreements with the Illusive Man prior to this, I was very angry and appalled at you having to see that."

Shepard didn't know exactly how to take that. On the one hand, lifer Cerberus goon by her own words – she didn't look that old, and 'many years' meant she was probably in this most of her life. On the other hand...

"I understand why he did it, Lawson. I asked for it, and he probably wanted to knock into my head that I can't hate him when I've got a turian to fucking kill. But...it hurt, yeah."

She turned to the pile of clothes, then tilted her head at Lawson. "Still...even if you are Cerberus...thanks. For .. checking on me. I kinda fucked up your room here, but ..."

Miranda found herself trying very hard not to smile. "This base is very small. Only a few rooms, a conference room, and a hangar bay. It was only constructed to leave no trace of our operations should you decide to part ways with us and return to Alliance or Citadel space. Now that you are not, we'll be leaving here soon and heading to your more permanent base of operations. This place will be blown up once we're gone."

Shepard realized this set-up wasn't cheap – hardwood flooring was hard to find and ship clear across space, and everything else looked elegant and expensive, if too white and soulless for her taste. Cerberus must really have the kind of money they could afford to throw away.

"...alright. What do I do now?"

Miranda smiled. "There's a small shower in the bathroom area of your room here. Once you have changed clothes, please follow the red line in the hallways past the heavy double doors and you will reach the hangar bay. Keep your omni-tool with you, as the doors are otherwise locked."

Miranda folded her hands behind her back. "Once you are at the hangar bay – and assuming that Joker is done eating by then, the pig – we will be departing."

Shepard was surprised by the exasperated fondness in Miranda's tone. "Joker is here?"

Miranda sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. Exasperating man."

Shepard found herself with a faint smile. "Like I told someone else, Lawson, he grows on you. Much like a fungus."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard was able to shower with only one more sobbing breakdown, when she recalled the shower Liara and she had shared after their first bond on the Normandy. Tears never showed up much in the shower, and by the time she was feeling strong enough to face whatever was outside her room, she had dressed.

The clothing they gave her was similar to the first outfit – loose, soft pants and a blousy top that didn't hug her figure. Someone had a good idea that she didn't like revealing, tight fitting clothing, and that spoke volumes of just how much information they had on her.

The makeup – another hint – was the same way. It was nothing more than a very simple foundation and colorless lip gloss, nothing fancy and nothing scented. A plain black hair scrunchy was in the case, and she put her hair into a ponytail with the scrunchy instead of using the ties she'd gotten in the first room.

Miranda had brought her fresh underclothes – again with the boxers and sports bra – and socks, but left the soft black slippers. Shepard grimaced when she saw the soles of the slippers had Cerberus logos on them.

"At least they don't have their goddamned logo splattered all over the place like the Alliance likes to do."

She got to her feet, grabbing her sketchbook and the holoframe with Liara's picture, and then took a breath and walked down the corridor. A single red haptic guideline floated serenely above the pale gray decking, and she followed it through a heavy airlock door.

The hallway beyond was like the others, only the windows now had delicately etched Cerberus logos on them.

"Ah, fuck. Knew it wouldn't last."

She walked through another set of doors – passing what looked like a conference room of some kind – and into a large hangar bay. A single small Alliance shuttle sat on one docking pad, while a much larger pinnace – batarian by the looks of it, although it had clearly been modified – sat on the other.

A pair of folding tables were up against the far wall of the docking bay, covered with black table cloths bearing a white Cerberus logo and covered in what looked like take out food. A single heavyset black man in a body-hugging black body suit with thin plates of armor sat at one table, and a very familiar slender human with a scraggly beard and a similar bodysuit, minus the armor but plus silvery braces on his legs and thinner ones on his arms ate at the other table.

She shook her head. "Joker."

Jeff Moreau put down the cheap plastic fork, getting to his feet and facing her. He looked much the same, except for the fact that his jaw had a slight indentation on the left side, marred by scar tissue of some kind. "Long time no see, Shepard."

She folded her arms, taking a deep breath. "Yeah." She glanced at the outfit he wore, with its Cerberus insignia, and the hat with yet another one on it. He also wore some kind of black and red scarf of some kind around his neck. "Nice scarf."

His eyes flickered. "It's the same pattern as Tali's new reik, a pattern we picked. And it covers up the scars where her dad did his best to pull my windpipe out."

She blinked, then grimaced. "Tali told me about that, but not all the details. I'm glad you're okay."

He shrugged, picking up a napkin from the table and wiping his mouth. "He got his. I guarantee he's never going to walk any better than I do after Tali shot him point blank. And it's old news." He swallowed. "I'm... I know this sounds lame, but I'm sorry. If I could have gotten the ship to the dock faster, maybe I could have shot that Tetrimus fucker."

She shook her head. "I...I saw the video, Joker. And … there's …" She exhaled. "Like I told Tali. Don't blame yourself for this. I know who killed her, and Garrus, and Telanya, and Aethyta. And when I catch him, what we did to Saren is going to look like a fucking love tap. I'm going to mount his fucking skull in my toilet and shit on it every night."

Joker gave her a slightly hesitant grin. "Good to see you haven't changed much. You get any details about the ship?"

She tilted her head, and Tali walked up from the side as she did. "No, she hasn't, Jeff. Stop it. We'll show her when we get to the base."

Joker sighed. "Fine, ruin my fun." He half turned. "You about done eating, Jacob?"

The big man stood up, brushing crumbs from his uniform. "Yeah, I guess I am now." The man walked up, his features blunt and fairly plain, his comic-book muscularity and size apparent as he got closer. "Jacob Taylor, security. Former Alliance, got mustered out after the Battle of Port Hanshan."

She nodded coolly. "I see. What do you do as security exactly, Mr. Taylor?"

He folded his massive arms. "Mostly run herd on a buncha mechs and a few security people. I was second in command of security at the base where we brought you back. Going forward, I'll be attached to your staff to help you work with Cerberus's few military assets, as a weapons tech and your armorer, and as a soldier under your command, ma'am."

She nodded again. "You were Alliance?"

He smiled. "I was a marine captain in charge of armor assets under General von Grath, eleven years of service. Qualified in armory maintenance. Mother was in the AIS, and Father was a Corsair captain. Big fan of your work against slavers."

She sighed. "And why are you working with Cerberus, Captain Taylor?"

He met her gaze squarely. "I'm not much for bullshit, ma'am, and I hear you aren't either. So I'll give it to you straight. Cerberus has done a lot of things I don't agree with, and certainly has a checkered past. As long as the Illusive Man plays straight with me, I'll do the same – when he stops, I stop working for them."

Shepard smiled. "And you think they'll let you walk away?"

He gave a shrug, unfolding his arms. "I think that matters less than making the choice not to support something I can't believe in, ma'am. So far, I haven't seen anything I'm ashamed of being a part of. And Cerberus gets things done. No red tape. No Admiralty review. Job needs done, we get it done and go home. No bullshit about not enough resources, or making us buy our own guns either."

She nodded. "And the people? You'll understand I'm not a real fan of their work, given what I found on Edolus."

He nodded. "I can see that, and honestly? I was brought in, like I said, after that point. I'm not saying I couldn't be snowed...but the people I've worked with, for the most part, are solid. Some of the docs involved in bringing you back were a bit ruthless in going through clones, but those didn't have a brain hooked up and they didn't experiment on anybody else but you."

She gave a small nod at that, glancing at Joker. "And you, Joker? Before I join this thing, any reservations you have?"

Joker shrugged. "TIM is a dick. A massive, massive dick. I just want to get that out there. But he patched me and Tali up, gave us a place to live, made sure we didn't starve, and let me fly. He listened to us, brought on another quarian lady and her boyfriend, and …" He shrugged. "I saw and heard what went down at Edolus, even if I wasn't down there personally. But nothing I've seen is anything like that, and I've been to a lot of their bases."

She folded her arms. "And how big are they?"

Joker made a face. "Big enough that it scares the shit out of me. Grown like a weed in the past year. TIM has big money."

She tilted her head. "TIM?"

Taylor gave a wry smile. "Short for the Illusive Man. He hates the name, it's a good way to get him to glare at you if you like pissing him off."

She felt her lips twitch into a smile. "TIM it is." She exhaled. "Alright, then. I guess...I'm ready to go."

Taylor nodded. "Everyone else is onboard, I have to set a few things up in the security center, and I'll leave in the other shuttle."

She glanced at the Alliance markings on said shuttle. "I guess if I said I didn't want to work with you, I would have left on that?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She exhaled. "Figured he would have shot me and started over if I said no."

Taylor gave her a serious look. "Ma'am...when you came in, there wasn't much left of you. Meat, and not much of that, and a lot of tubes and equipment. I haven't got the slightest idea how in hell they did what they did to bring you back, but more than once they nearly lost you and scrubbed the project. There's no 'do overs' with this – you die again, we don't have another model we can trot out."

Shepard rolled her shoulders. "Well, let's get this show on the road, then. Joker, after you."

He rolled his eyes. "Follow me."

Taylor watched them head into the pinnace, then tapped his earpiece. "They're aboard, sir."

The voice of Randal Ezno was hard as usual. "Good. Go ahead and set the self-destruct. The backup shuttle is prepped – the access doors in the conference room are open now. Flood the base before detonation."

Jacob spoke again. "Yes, sir. Just to ask, why the backup shuttle? Why not take the Alliance bird we have here in the bay, like I was told to tell her?"

Ezno's voice was still cold, but held a note of amusement. "Because it's code-locked to head to go only to Commissar Chisholm's patrol group in Bekenstein,and I doubt you want to visit the Black Hats. Get moving. Ezno out."

Taylor clicked off, moving towards the security center. "Could be worse", he said to himself, as the pinnace lifted up and began moving towards the hangar lock doors to allow it to move into the ocean outside. "Half expected them to run it into the nearest star."


	4. Arc I : Saint of Killers

_**A/N**:  
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_Enter Archangel. I warned you he was a little ... off.  
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_Reviews are always welcome.  
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* * *

_'He killed nine krogan in thirty seconds - in melee. Fuck the money. I'm not staying another day on this spirits-damned deathtrap of a station with that lunatic on it.'  
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_\- Valfaran, turian slaver, to a pit boss, ten minutes before he was killed by Archangel at the Omega Lower Docks.  
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* * *

Runners was feeling lucky tonight.

Which wasn't something he felt very often, so he figured it was a good omen. It put a left-wards tilt to his head, and a slight spring to his step, as he moved along the crowded environs of lower Omega – of course, keeping a wary eye out for trouble.

Runners – his nickname was a sneering admission of his foot speed – had never really struck it big. All batarians knew they were eventually going to do so, of course – why else would the Dark Gods have given them so many advantages over the malhai, or non-batarians, after all? But like many other batarians thrown into the upheaval of the Emperor's Purge, his fate wasn't to make it big in the new Batarian Empire.

He'd fled his home colony of Guta on a food freighter when the high-caste running his farm section had been killed in a riot, selling his labor to the turian ship captain in return for passage – and that had been the luckiest day of his life, since not a week later the Imperial Guard had burned Guta and everyone on it to the bedrock in retaliation for the uprising.

And he'd ended up on Omega.

With little else to his name but his ability to run fast, he'd put that skill to good use, becoming a runner for the Shadows. He'd run things for them for almost two years before getting this chance. Low-caste batarians didn't get much of a break, as most saw them as weak and shifty. So he'd made ends meet where he could – running data slips, hustling in the exchanges, doing a few side deals here and there. Never much more than enough to get by.

He knew that most of the Shadows though he was a bit of an idiot, but Runners was more savvy than they knew. He was quick and sneaky. He'd lost a finger to a vorcha, been knifed and shot a few times, and had some ugly scars on his scalp – but he still had all his eyes. He'd never had any education but had managed to pick up more than a few minor technical tricks from the show-off salarians in the gang.

Four weeks ago, that had paid off – listening to some guards of a big-shot merchant, he'd heard about some kind of nasty piece of polymorphic VI they were putting in the security systems. He'd bided his time, snuck in to the security shack of the merchant's warehouse, and managed to overhear the merchant's quarian tech giving an extremely detailed rundown of how the security systems worked – including passwords.

He'd given that into to his quad-boss, who had put in for a data-hack – and the Shadows had scored big. He'd only been given a tiny cut of the loot, but it was more credits than he'd had in his life.

He grinned to himself, as scratched his chin, the grayish skin flaking under his touch as he did so. Damned water in Omega wasn't worth crap, and made his skin dry. But with his creds he could afford a better place to stay. And soon he would have even more.

He was going places. This run was the culmination of that. Yeah, his quadmates laughed at him now, but Runners was set. He'd been picked to run something really dangerous, really valuable – and if he did it right, he'd be laughing at them by morning.

His luck was hanging strong. As he entered the Lower Runs, he overheard the gossip from a pair of food vendors. A riot had taken out most of the greensuits, Aria's security people, in the Lower Runs below Venom. That gave him a free run towards Grifter's Circle and Fushela's, and towards the path down to the secondary rings – and his destination.

Still, he was cautious. He moved with the crowd, eyes peeled for gangs. He didn't have on his gangleathers, instead wearing an old, ratty jumpsuit, carrying a beat up old toolbox and a half-functioning pad. He wasn't Runners to anyone right now, just old Mithka, headed to do some maintenance for his boss. That was the story.

He needed a story. The run was extremely risky. The Shadows wouldn't be paying him so well if it weren't.

The danger of trying to pull a fast one on Aria were well known, and the Shadows didn't want to take chances with her anger. In the aftermath of the Burning of Omega, she'd obliterated more than fifteen smaller gangs and three rebellious warlords, and had given the rest a stern warning – disobedience is death.

The Shadows had been involved in hacking the GTS defenses during the Burning of Omega two years back, but so had the Blue Suns, and by luck or oversight, Aria's wrath fell on the Suns for that debacle. It helped that the Shadows themselves had come under heavy attack during the Burning, and they simply told Aria they'd been too beaten up and busy defending themselves to be much use. It also helped that the GTS defenses had been brought back online before the Broker's dreadnought could close in on the station. The Shadows claimed they'd helped with that.

To the gang's surprise, Aria had bought it. She'd put them in charge of rebuilding the station's mechs and security systems, and they'd done so in rapid time. When the Shadows had deflected a probe by Broker tech-teams to bring down the station's environmental systems, Aria had rewarded them lavishly.

Backing Aria and catering to her whims had paid off, and the Shadows had expanded their territory and duties by doing so, even picking up bases in three outlying star systems.

They were now often employed by Aria's people to oversee and manage security software, lockouts and mechs. It paid well enough – not great, but better than nothing – and made them one of the few trusted gangs. The greensuits didn't hassle them the way they did the Blood Pack or the Blue Suns, and they'd been allowed access to things they didn't even know existed about Omega.

Still, the Shadows were hungry and wanted more. Even Runners knew that if you just sat on your ass and hoped for the best on Omega, you'd end up dead. Aria was as capricious and random in her affections as she was dangerous, and she could decide tomorrow to turn on them.

So the Shadows had been looking for opportunities...and one showed up.

A mercenary outfit of some kind from the Black Rim, the Wind Daggers, had shown up a few weeks back. There were many such groups being formed – the Council was paying ridiculous sums for private units brave enough to penetrate the Perseus Veil and go after the geth on their own turf, and a lot of these units based themselves out of the Black Rim, Traverse, or Omega itself.

The Wind Daggers were all turians, and the only widely known thing about them was that they'd been involved in a few actions against the geth and had come out victorious. Details on the actual funding behind the Daggers were sketchy, but they were clearly rolling in cash, as despite only having one ship, it was a very heavily armed and armored salarian combat pinnace that had just come off the lines.

The Wind Daggers mostly dealt, according to the few people who seemed to know anything about them, in wet-work missions. But on the side, they also hustled contraband of various kinds. Weapons. Software. Critical medications. Drugs.

Runners didn't know all the details – he was far too junior for that – but someone from the Wind Daggers had struck a deal with the leader of the Shadows, Mr. Hands. Ninety crates of trade-purity red sand and fifty turian lance cannons was what they put up as trade for information. As a 'gift' they'd fronted five such cases, and the red sand was beyond trade-purity, almost pure-grade.

It was too much for the Shadows to turn down, even with the danger. While they were making money, they were still reeling from the damage they'd taken in the Burning (not to mention being hammered by Archangel more than once). They could use every credit they could get, and the Shadows mostly dealt in theft, data-hacks, electronics and the like. Nothing that would give them massive amounts of cash at once. Getting a score of drugs and eezo of that size would be more than the Shadows brought in all year.

Enough, maybe, to let them expand off of Omega in a bigger way than tiny outposts. That was all above Runners head...but with the Archangel out there, getting the hell off this station wasn't such a bad idea, in his opinion.

In any event, the Wind Daggers wanted something dangerous – detailed information on Aria's security, layouts, and defenses – but the Shadows could obtain most of the information with almost no risk, as they were running Aria's security. Still, 'almost no' risk wasn't the same as no risk, and Mr. Hands decided to make some prudent opening moves to lower the odds of being caught.

Their drug-glazed hackers had gotten to work laying false leads, setting it up where it looked like outside influence and getting the bits and pieces about the security they didn't know. The really clever part, in Runners mind, was that he'd overheard the sector bosses using an independent to hire up a pack of Blue Suns mercs to run an assault on the main Shadows data-center.

The assault had only killed a handful of the Shadows – ones not in on the plan, and who'd pissed off the leader somehow – but it had been done to establish a reason and method for someone else having security details about Aria's defenses, in case she found out about the breach. And given that the Wind Daggers probably weren't asking for the info for benign reasons, the Shadows had to be ready for Aria's displeasure.

In two days, the Shadows had all the information. But handing it off – that would be tricky. The data included floor-plans, guard schedules, a run down of Aria's armories, bolt-holes and backup defenses, GTS system codes, door security codes, mech overrides, VI bypasses, and more.

It was too big and dangerous to transmit, especially given that they were hardly the only people on the station with the ability to hack and decrypt. Even if they used a one-time pad and the best encryption possible, it would raise eyebrows by the size alone. The files were also far too large to just stick on one or even a few OSDs. They'd need almost eighty of them.

Sticking it on case of OSDs was suicide if it fell into the wrong hands. One OSD of data could be passed off as someone hacking or the like – the entire set would point the finger right at the Shadows if something went wrong with the deal.

The leader of the Shadows, a rogue salarian named Mr. Hands, had come up with a better idea. He'd taken some of the lower ranking members of the gang – the numbers runners, the rat boys, the data-scam hustlers that no one important cared about – and had his handful of cyberdocs make a few modifications.

Runners was one of those lower ranking members.

Runners had a customized datajack in his chest, and the storage equivalent of thirty OSDs in his back, all covered by a patch of synth-skin they'd salvaged from some asari and dyed to match his back. The cyberware was wrapped in a thin mesh of lead, blocking remote scans. It couldn't be seen at a casual glance, and really the only danger was greensuits randomly shooting him and revealing the cybernetics, or meat-cutters – scavengers who attacked those with cyberware – looking to score some new tech.

He was pretty sure he could talk his way out of anything, including some meat-cutters looking to steal cyberlimbs – he'd pass the silver off as a corrective spine implant. Not much demand for those. Slipping around the greensuits would be harder, since they'd been on edge and more aggressive than usual recently. Still, the chances of them shooting him up were almost nil.

The rest of the plan was pretty simple. Mr. Hands had explained it to each of his chosen runners himself.

Three runners would each converge on the meeting point with the Wind Daggers. Each runner had a third of the information mixed in with garbage data on the OSDs installed in the cyber in their bodies. Without the other two pieces, nothing of use could be extracted from the OSD-paks.

The custom data-jacks that would connect the paks to any external data-port could only link up to specially-coded draw-down boxes – boxes they'd sent to the Daggers the night before. Anything else trying to access them would trigger the real data to wipe itself, leaving behind junk data.

The cybernetic rig would also wipe the data if his life-signs flat-lined, or if he hit a panic button on his cobbled together omni-tool. Once all three runners made it – and if one didn't backups were ready – then the data could be recombined into a final file format that would decrypt once the Shadows were paid.

The Wind Daggers had agreed, and the deal was on. One runner should have already reached the meeting point by now, and the other runner was taking the tubes. Runners would probably be the last one there.

He could almost taste his payday now. He was cautious, but excited. Halfway to his goal, and no one even paid him a second glance.

Aria knew the data was missing, and was having her people tear the station apart to find it, but her suspicion was on the Blue Suns, not the Shadows. Most of her greensuits were up-station, fucking Tarek's day up. All he had to do was keep his head down and make it to the rings.

And pray the Archangel wasn't hunting tonight. He shivered.

The Archangel was so much bullshit at first. Then the urban legends had turned into ugly, horrifying reality.

The Angels had been on Omega for years – bunch of two-bit wannabe vigilantes. They fucked with gangers, boosted stuff from the merchants, and helped out the no-account scabs at the bottom of the pit. They were smart enough never to mess with Aria's people, or any of the big gangs. The people of Lower Omega supported them, which was the only reason that they hadn't been wiped.

They kept the riff-raff from violating the lower Districts too much, which was useful in preventing the down-and-out from trying something stupid, and thus they were allowed to live. But they weren't that dangerous.

That had all changed about a year and a half ago.

The Talons had been seriously fucking with the poor bastards in the Vefu District. That whole area had revolted against Aria in the Burning, and she'd withdrawn her protection from it, saying it was free to anyone who could hold it. The Talons had won that fight and ran the place into the ground. The only safe people there were the couple of merchants who had the money to buy the Talons off, and the old cranky turian cyberdoc – some veteran soldier named Ripper – that some of the Talons knew and got some minor cyberware from.

Everyone else was game. Those who could leave did. Those who couldn't...suffered. They'd looted and raped and burned and pretty much tortured the entire district for three weeks.

That's when the shit started. First, single Talons vanishing, with no trace of the bodies found. Then, entire patrols were gone. Those, they found. Sort of. Torn off limbs. Shots from a sniper rifle that had killed two or three of them at a time. Ambushes in dark alleys where nine men had fought one enemy and been literally butchered, cut apart into jumbles of arms, legs, and chunks.

The Talons didn't take that lying down, of course. They'd gone into the public tube-ways and had shot twenty people dead, demanding answers. The same night, every one of the gunmen had been found dead, throats torn out and a winged shape splayed over the walls or floors where they died in their own blood.

That shape – the turian common-glyph for vengeance beneath an outstretched pair of wings – had become the embodiment of fear itself on Omega.

Rumors flew as the weeks passed – the Talons stopped fucking with people, too angry to care about that anymore. They wanted blood, they hunted and tracked and finally thought they had their culprit. They firebombed some old warehouse, killed about a dozen bums.

The Talons had found out the hard way they'd missed their target when in a single night, sixty of them had been executed in their beds, or at their gambling houses, or on the shitter. A winged shape cut into their faces.

Several months of this sort of carnage decimated the Talons, and in a risky move, they decided to rush the Vefu District. They would start shooting the place up, draw out Archangel, and then pounce on him, relying on their numbers to mass fire power and take him out.

That didn't work either. Only a handful of the Talons made it back, all of them wounded or dying, and when their leader demanded to know what had happened, they told him the truth – they'd walked into a massive ambush, full of traps and explosives, and Archangel had killed the rest of them off, tearing apart the quad bosses before they could even get organized.

The leader of the Talons, Torsk, took his heaviest hitters and went right back in. That was the last time anyone saw him alive.

They found Torsk the next morning, cut open in front of Afterlife. Someone had sawed up him up real good, and then marked his body up with black markers, and notes like 'fold here' and 'glue here'. Torsk was well known for cutting up the dancers in some of the poorer clubs, and everyone figured it was Aria sending a message.

But Aria had simply scowled when she saw the corpse. It wasn't her people doing this. She sent her own greens into the Vefu District, forty strong, to find the culprit behind this mess.

Three came back out, babbling, crazy, begging for help. Nothing they said made sense. Buncha crap bout 'coming out of the shadows' and 'angry glowing eye' and claws and blood. Aria said whoever challenged her rule was a dead person.

The next night, the new leader of the Talons was flung through Aria's bedroom window, sixteen stories above Afterlife and secured by a dozen security systems and cameras. No one saw anything, no one heard anything. The new leader had been batarian, and a well known smuggler of red sand. Whoever had killed him had done it by pushing his face into red sand until it ruptured all four eyes, then stuffed his corpse full of it.

The body had a note with it, a note everyone on Omega knew by heart now.

'My fight isn't with you, Aria. If you like living, don't make me change my mind – Archangel'.

The months since then had been horrific – if you were in the gangs.

Archangel had pretty much taken the Talons apart. They'd been killed in a number of very ugly and often mocking methods. Many of the turians in the gang had been killed by having their own talons driven into their throats or eyes. The slaves the Talons traded in had been set free, spreading tales of their rescuer.

A gigantic figure in super-heavy armor, with some kind of powerful claws and a black-metal face mask or helmet, with a single glowing blue eye and some kind of tracking visor. He struck from the shadows, from the air – it sounded like a Raptor jump pack of some kind was used – or from a distance, with powerful sniper rifles.

Aria's people couldn't gather too many more clues from the scenes of butchery the Archangel left behind. The sniper rifle used was some custom work, possibly a Widow. Archangel always used explosive rounds, leaving no firm ballistics behind to find, and never left any trace of where he came from.

No one ever saw the Archangel face to face and survived, it was said. A single Talon survivor claimed to have shot him with a lance cannon and the huge figure just laughed at him before clawing his body nearly in two – he'd only survived by a fluke of luck and heavy cybernetics.

The next day, the Archangel had gotten into his secured hospital room and torn the survivor's head off. There was no where to run or hide.

The Talons had met a fiery and ugly end, when one of the ships they used to smuggle eezo had been hijacked and crashed directly into their headquarters, on the lower rings. The explosion had killed over five hundred Talons and wrecked the area, which wasn't a place civilians or innocents tended to wander in.

Aria had been furious, until a large part of the smuggled eezo shipment aboard the ship had arrived in six hacked air-cars the next day, along with another note. No one knew what it said, but Aria was said to have smiled when she read it.

Runners didn't even want to know what would make that crazy bitch smile. The rumor was the Talons had been skimming from Aria, and it was a common enough rumor that Runners figured it was true.

The Archangel struck indiscriminately. The bulk of his fury fell upon the bigger gangs. The Twelve Bells were taken apart in months, sniped and bombed into a wreck. But even the small fry wasn't safe. A rapist was found with a power draw cable from the main power lanes shoved up his ass, fried to a crisp. A famous saboteur was found dead in a life support suit that had been itself sabotaged.

The big-shot merchants weren't safe, either. Gus Williams, one of the biggest gun smugglers on Omega, had been shot to death inside his own secured compound, with one of his own smuggled weapons. A clone-organ seller had been found hung from his spurs, his vault of cash and valuables looted and his own organs harvested.

Archangel was untouchable and unstoppable. They said Archangel had to be a group, but the scenes of the assault always indicated a single person. The tactics never indicated that anything more than one killer was involved.

The kills themselves were terrifying. People shot at incredible distances with a sniper rifle, or else torn to shreds up close. Sometimes the person would be killed in a manner mocking their style of kills, or their trade. Other times, Archangel just seemed to go berserk, leaving nothing behind but smears of blood and chunks of flesh, or one member of the Suns who'd been shot seventy eight times at point blank range with some kind of shotgun or heavy flechette pistol.

No security system stopped him. No plot was hidden well enough to hide from him. He'd hit the Shadows several times, the most recent ending with the half boss – Mr. Hands' second in command, a giant krogan with cybered-up arms and eight hundred years old – found literally beaten to death INSIDE the Shadows most secret hacking sanctum.

The note left behind had been taunting them. 'Cute décor. Unless you want to be called Mr. Stumps instead of Mr. Hands, you'd best leave my station. - Archangel.'

Archangel tormented the gangs, the more crooked and vile merchants, and the slavers. As long as Aria didn't interfere, he left her alone, and every time she tried to have him stopped, more of her people died, then Archangel would send her some smuggled good or data that showed the gang in question was defying her in some way.

People were waiting for the inevitable, the call for a Hunt, or Aria to go to war herself, but after a year and a half, Aria had done nothing. Now the rumor was Archangel was working for Aria all along, or they'd struck a secret deal, or maybe Archangel was Aria's lover.

The rumors went on and on. The common people walked around the station, less fearful. The merchants nervously started using a bit more circumspection in their dealings. Slavers stopped trying to hawk slaves on the station itself, relying on deals on their ships.

As crazy as it sounded, the murder rate on Omega had dropped fifty percent in the last six months, open gang warfare had almost come to a stop, and you could actually feel like you weren't going to be shot or killed just walking the streets for the first time in years.

That didn't suit the gangs very much at all. They liked the fear, without it people might get ideas of fighting back.

It was obvious Archangel wasn't going to stop – and it didn't look like Aria was going to stop him. The reason was clear, the gangs were too busy trying to find and kill Archangel, or defend themselves, to pull anything against her. Runners suspected Mr. Hands wanted to make a big enough score with this deal with the Wind Daggers to expand off the station more out of fear of being killed by Archangel than greed alone.

None of that mattered to Runners. He just had to get to the deal site, offload his data, and make it back, and then he'd be fifty thousand credits richer. He planned to get his skin-tone shifted and take up some other kind of work after that. Any kind that didn't involve gangs.

All he had to do was complete this run.

He cursed as he saw a patrol of Blue Suns in the lane ahead, and ducked down a side passage that ran around the back of Fushela's brothel. The alley was dirty, but no one was in it – the asari's bouncers probably made sure of that. Fushela called herself Omega's Consort, and her brothel was one of the most popular on the station, with chipped-up turian girls, eager asari maidens, hanar 'specialists' and all kinds of pleasure within the heavy metal walls.

Fushela didn't want violence or gangers scaring off her clientele, so it was a pretty safe area.

He loped along at an easy pace, smiling and thinking about how he'd spend his money, until the black metallic fist the size of his head came out of nowhere and struck him hard enough to knock him silly. He staggered, back hitting the wall, eyes blinking against the pain and impact.

An ugly looking Talon pistol shattered his teeth as it was crammed into his open mouth, driving his head back against the wall. His eyes widened in agony, as he looked up.

And up.

And up.

The figure towering over him was something out of a nightmare.

The face was simply ...metal. Black metal, some kind of helmet, a single glowing blue cybernetic eye or eyepiece piercing the faceplate, and some kind of visor thing on the other side. Hard red lines were painted on along the sides, like some kind of mockery of turian face markings. The figure was huge, bulked up by heavy, angular armor, and a faint smell of machine oil along with the clear scent of a turian wafted over the alley's own smells.

Carved into the heavy armor was the sign of the Archangel.

A hard, angry voice spoke, modulated into a growling bass. "This isn't your lucky day, Runners."

Runners mind was on automatic, as panic seized him. He scrabbled for his omni, before red pain smashed into his mind. His forearm was gripped in an armored gauntlet, thick and tipped with metallic claws, the bones of his wrist broken, his omni-tool a sparking, ruined and splintered mess.

He felt pain again as the gun was pulled out of his mouth, spilling his broken teeth over the filthy metal floor of the alley. The gun came around, smashing him in the face and knocking him to his knees, and as he fell, he was kicked over onto his back. A sharp pain in his neck from some kind of needle made him jump, even as he lost control of his bladder and soiled himself.

And then he realized he couldn't move.

The heavy, armored feet of the thing above him were all he could see, face down on the ground, but he could feel his jumpsuit being shredded and the synth-skin being ripped from his back, painfully. The growling voice spoke, but it was quieter, like the figure was talking into a commlink. "Yeah, this is the one. Extracting now. Keep the link open, but cut it if the data feed spikes."

Runners knew the data couldn't be extracted by anything but the special draw-down box the Wind Daggers had. He said nothing, though – he was dead, no matter what he did, and at least this thing that had killed him would not get anything from him. Mr. Hands would find him, because he was smart, and –

The cyberware in his back made a gentle ding, and the figure standing over him chuckled. "Alright, clean extraction, transmitting now."

Runners couldn't understand. The data couldn't be used except with the draw-down box. What was happening?

The big turian knelt down, turning Runners' face to look at him. "Maybe you're lucky tonight after all. You get a chance to live past this. You're paralyzed right now, but you can still speak. Answer my questions, and maybe I won't splatter your brains all over the alley."

Runners' throat was so dry he could hardly do so, but he spoke. "W-whatever you want."

The blank metal face plate bobbed. "Good, smarter than the other two. I want you to carry a message back to Mr. Hands. Tell him he wasted the warning I gave him. I've cut the Shadows a bit of slack because your filth hasn't done a whole lot to hurt the people of Omega, but I found out that it was your gang who turned off the GTS defenses during the Burning. That got a lot of innocent people hurt."

The figure gave a raspy, vile laugh. "If I don't get him, Aria will, especially when she finds out that the Shadows just handed me the key to her defenses."

Runners mind gibbered as he tried to think of something to say, and came up blank. He didn't want to die, but he couldn't see how he could live through this. Even if Mr. Hands didn't have him shot for failing, Aria would be ruthless in wiping the Shadows out. Anyone who'd ever flown their colors would be dead.

The hard, ugly pride he never gave up flared, and he coughed. "I'm a dead man either way. You can tell him yourself. But someone will bring you down."

Archangel tilted his head to the left. "That's your problem, not mine. You should have thought of that before you threw in with these parasites. The law isn't optional."

He couldn't help himself as he began to laugh. "The law? What law? This is Omega!"

Archangel bent lower. "And on Omega, I am the law." He straightened, hand going to the side of his head, a commlink making some kind of sounds. "Alright, good. Start recombining the files now."

Runners laughed again. "You're a fool. They're encrypted. I don't know how you got a hold of the Wind Daggers boxes, but you'll never get the password – Mr. Hands won't give that until he's paid."

Archangel tilted his head. "Oh. That changes things." He tapped his commlink again. "We're hitting the Shadows in an hour. Be ready."

And then the Talon pistol came up and fired once, before Runners could say anything else.

Archangel smiled coldly behind his armored mask, and reached for the knife on his boot.

O-TWCD-O

Six hours later, the broadcast began.

It went out across all the many vid-screens on the station, across the extranet taps, and across the main comm systems. A flickering image in blue and black, the symbol of the Archangel.

And then a single message.

"You laugh."

"You laugh at the law – the people who torment this station. The rich ones who buy and sell lives, and twist the law to their whims. The gangs, who have nothing to lose, who don't care about themselves, or other people. All the ones who think they're above the law, or outside it, or beyond it."

"You all think the law is good for a laugh. Maybe to keep good people in line. And you all laugh. You laugh at the law. You think it can't reach you, that you can do whatever you like."

"But you don't laugh at me."

"I've warned you. I've threatened you. I've killed you. And now, I'm done playing around."

"You think Aria will protect you from me, when you do nothing but cheat her? Think again."

And at the end of the message, a signal went out. Aria's mechs all went mad, storming out into the streets and obliterating every ganger they saw. It took Aria's people three hours to get them under control.

In the chaos, the Twelve Bells ceased to exist, killed down to the last member. Over six hundred Eclipse sisters died, and the Blue Suns fought off the mechs only by a hair, losing half their number. Information was dumped into Aria's system, fingering the Eclipse for covering up the presence of two rogue ardat-yakshi who'd killed one of Aria's lieutenants, and the Suns for being involved with the original hack of the GTS defenses that made the Burning of Omega worse.

In the chaos, someone shot Garm, lead them on a chase through the city, and then when the vorcha pack Garm relied on arrived, detonated the section of hull they were in. Garm and his vorcha were dropped almost three thousand feet into the huge exhaust pipes that burned off Omega's waste. Files were sent to Aria – recorded comms between him and the leader of the now destroyed Twelve Bells, plotting to strike against Aria herself and take her out in revenge for her not stopping Archangel.

In the chaos, Aria's GTS defenses were hacked, blasting sixteen slaver ships out of the sky. Information was dumped into her systems, showing they'd been misstating profits and robbing her of half her cut.

Aria sat in Afterlife, teeth gritted, as her station was racked by destruction. She read the dispatches coming in, the damage assessments, and said nothing.

Bray stood by her side, monitoring the comm relays. "Another one. Archangel just took out Tonius, the human who ran that eezo conversion shop on the mid rim. Looks like he was swapping good eezo for depleted and charging us full price for it."

Aria glanced up at him, then looked away, her features tense. "And your people haven't found anything? No witnesses? Nothing?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. We went over Vefu and Tazo Districts with our best varren and came up empty. The places where we suspected the Angels to be hiding out at over the years were all abandoned. We've got tons of rumors...none of them seem to pan out to any real leads."

Aria stood, looking out over the balcony at her nightclub. Inside, the richest and most successful of Omega's criminals danced and drank, or were coyly led to the side rooms by dancers. Down below in the VIP section, deals were still being made, contracts being bought and sold.

But there was an edge of fear in the celebrating, a sense of unease she could feel.

Aria hated not having control. She hated looking weak. She knew the snap-fish in the deeps could live a long time if it bit anything coming after it, but if it weakened, its own kind would turn on it and bring it down.

The worst part of the situation was Archangel was mocking her. He acted as if he was working with her, exposing those who tried to cheat her. Her own profits were up. Her people told her everyone was terrified of offending her, more than ever, because she would have the Archangel come after them.

It was a hustle. She couldn't go after him with her full force, or call a Hunt – because then everyone would realize the truth. She'd look weak. They would turn on her.

"Everyone still convinced he's my secret enforcer?"

Bray nodded grimly. "Yeah. Still split fifty-fifty on whether you're his lover or if he's someone you brought in from outside the station."

She almost found that amusing. "And the Wheel Priest we brought in?"

Bray's eyes shifted to the ground. "He says all he sees is a pair of gray eyes. And the same image as before."

Aria's eyes narrowed. "Me, bleeding, begging for my life." She exhaled. "There has to be some pattern to his strikes."

Bray shrugged. "The only thing we have found is the dead Broker agents. We're almost certain the Broker's people don't even make it a full week before he finds them. And the kills are brutal – way worse than anything he does to gangers or even slavers. We had to ID the last one by skin fragments – nothing else was left, really."

Aria winced as Bray's padd beeped again. "Looks like it's winding down...the big vorcha breeder Kitgash just got tossed into his own pit of vorcha. GTS systems were just released...traced the hack back to a Blue Suns building, but the Suns inside were dead for hours." He frowned. "The only people who had access to all this data were the security lieutenants...and the Shadows."

Aria narrowed her eyes. "I see. Take Old One to pay the Shadows a visit, then. And Bray?"

She smiled. "Once you get there, I don't see a need for Old One to have his regulator turned on. Report back to me when its over with."

Bray sighed as he walked away, and decided he might as well get his goggles for this mess – Old One made messy kills.

High above, on the roof of the stack of high-end apartment habs across from Afterlife, a slender salarian took down his spy beam emitter and began folding up the various pieces, while the kneeling batarian next to him kept watch. "Time to get the Pillars out of here, I hope, Erash?"

Erash nodded. "Yeah, Vortash. Quick and quiet. The boss needs to know they're going to find out what we did to the Shadows sooner than expected."

O-TWCD-O

In the hideout, buried almost fifty feet below the surface of the lower-ring rock foundations, an asari started unhooking armor from the turian sitting down on the armory bench.

"You took a lot of fire tonight, Garrus." She pulled off the heavy black helmet, revealing the face underneath. "You had us worried. I can't believe you just stormed into the headquarters of the Shadows like that. And if you'd taken another ten minutes, the Old One would have caught you."

Garrus Vakarian flicked a mandible. "Then I would have killed that stupid krogan, too, Melenis. I wasn't in any real danger – the Shadows were clowns. Stupid hackers happy to ruin people's livelihoods and steal." He looked at his claws, still caked with blood, and his voice softened. "I've...been through worse."

She snorted, using a tool to begin the arduous process of pulling off the heavy armor plates over the shoulders. "I know, I'm the one who found you in the trash pit, remember? Goddess, that was a mess."

Her mind flickered back to that night, the night everything had changed, then she sighed, and continued to remove the shoulder armor. Nothing was said for a few minutes, and when she had both shoulders and the chest piece removed, she winced as she saw more bloody wounds in his arm and torso, and began applying medigel to his wounds.

"I just wish you'd be more careful." Her voice was full of worry, and she had a small, upset frown on her delicate features.

His voice was cool, solemn. "When I'm killing them … I can forget about everything else. The pain, the memories...everything." He watched her work, as she finished patching the wounds, then removing the gore-encrusted claw-gauntlets over his hands.

The SkyTalon armor he wore couldn't be put on or taken off by its pilot past a certain point. For reasons Garrus cleanly understood – and never mentioned – Melenis always took that duty, combining it with fixing up the wounds he always took in the fights. The armor mitigated most of them, only a few lucky shots or the heaviest of firepower would penetrate the armor to any degree, and most of his enemies only had time for one shot before he took them out – if that.

It gave him time to cool down, and think back.

Before he'd come along, the Angels were no real threat to anybody except the weakest punks.

The Angels were an irritant to the gangs and criminals of Omega, a group of mostly down and out nobodies who shared a sense of outrage and a desire to protect their district. Their leader was an older human, an ex-Marine named Angel. He said he had another name but had given it up. A big, strong man, with hard eyes and hard morals, he'd lead them and kept them safe, and it had been him who started the entire mess.

Angel had come to Omega to kill the turian who'd killed his family, a pirate and slaver who'd retaliated when a raid gone wrong had ruined his chance at quick loot. Angel had found him and avenged his family, and after that was done, had nothing to live for and nothing to do. He had money and no wish to go back home to an empty, bloody house and try to rebuild the shards of his life.

Looking around Omega, he'd seen people with no where to go, and no one to help, and in a flash of empathy, decided he would be the one to help them. He'd ended up spending his credits on helping the old turian cyberdoc who'd patched him up after his fight, named Ripper, sinking those credits into expanding Ripper's clinic and lab.

For seven years, Angel and Ripper had done what they could. Healed the injured and sick. Angel killed a few lower ranked gangers here and there, scoring what he could in terms of guns, and trying to prevent the innocent people of the District from being abused – but it was like trying to stop a tsunami with a towel.

Still, the sheer gall of what he tried to do had won him admiration. People helped him, with food, with hiding places. They gave him tips, rumors, sightings of gang members. Anyone living on Omega had to be a survivor, and the people of Vefu had slowly become a primitive information network for Angel.

Over the years, a few more people had joined up, despite the crazy of their cause. Some had come and gone, others had died, but a few had always remained.

Melenis was the first, the sister of an Eclipse ganger who'd failed her initiation. She was medically trained as a nurse and had done work on drug rehab, another thing Ripper added to his clinic. She worked hard, helping clean up the wreckage left behind that red sand, dark-smoke and other drugs made of people's lives. Slender, beautiful and empathetic, Melenis always brought out a smile in the people she helped, and those in the Angels as well. She never killed, she only healed, but she never tried to rein in the need for vengeance in others.

Others had joined, following Angel. Some, like Weaver and Sensat, were mostly non-combatants – techs, hackers. Sensat, a mid-caste batarian who'd left the Hegemony in disgust at its ways, hacked vending machines and 'mislaid' shipping orders, siphoning credits and gear in his hustles, always parting with a few to help Ripper. When his best friend had come down with an organ disorder, and Ripper had replaced the organ free of charge, he'd started using his skills full time to help Angel and Ripper. He'd since become a more accomplished hacker, specializing in security systems and mechs.

Weaver was another hacker, a human survivor from another gang, wiped out by the Shadows, who was angry because his own wife had been shot and paralyzed from the waist down by thugs looking to take him out. He was better than Sensat at getting into secured comm systems, and a genius at encryption and decryption. He'd joined up when Ripper had made it possible for his wife to walk again and charged him nothing, and used his skills to build the Angels a secure data network and comm system, piggybacking on, of all things, the powerful transmission equipment used by the angry batarian preachers in the station who railed against all other beings as blights.

Others had joined when Angel had taken down the petty gang boss of the Blades, the small gang that terrorized Vefu District for years. That had been a bloody fight, ending in Angel nearly losing an eye, but it had solidified people's support of the Angels, and freed a pair of very useful supporters.

Erash was a Lythari salarian, a former STG agent disgusted by something he'd discovered in his service. He'd been working with Doctor Solus as security, but had fallen afoul of a powerful merchant and been beaten and sold as a slave to the Blades. Angel had freed him, and he'd put the group in contact with Solus, as well as adding his own skills in drone creation, spying and sneaking around to the group.

Vortash was high-caste ex-SIU, a hard-charging fighter who found a distaste for the direction of his people due to his hobby of studying ancient history, entranced by the stories of an earlier, more peaceful batarian culture. Despite his high-caste status, he was perhaps the most tolerant batarian any of Angel's people had ever met, although he had a razor sharp and cutting sense of sarcastic humor and a nasty streak a mile wide for those who wronged him.

Montague and Butler were humans, who'd come to Omega to find Butler's sister and Montague's wife, taken by turian slavers in a raid. They'd found the woman – dead – and went on a rampage of revenge, almost being killed before Angel and Vortash saved them. Both were tough, strong ex-Marine – Montague was a master at explosives and traps, and Butler was a skilled mechanic.

The Angels began patrolling Vefu, offering help to those who needed it – fixing up broken equipment, helping watch over kids at the local school run by a pair of asari maidens, helping scavenge hydroponics from the trash pits to help feed people. Things had slowly gotten better. People began to believe they could actually not just survive, but thrive. Vefu had gone from a battered wreck that was where the down and out went to die, to slowly becoming a better place to live.

More joined up – a krogan female, Krul, having left her people after killing another female – a infertile one, who'd attacked her out of jealousy and hate for being able to have children. She couldn't take Tuchanka anymore, and would return in a century or two – after she found her own peace at having to kill another krogan female due to events beyond her control.

Krul was a fierce fighter, but in a surprise, also good at talking things out. She claimed the krogan females were the only reason the krogan hadn't already destroyed themselves, and was often at the school, teaching the children survival skills. And when a few slimy types had tried to steal some kids for no doubt disgusting ends, Krul had crushed their skulls by herself, and then gone right on teaching.

Angel liked to flirt with her, mostly to get laughs out of the team, but he was deeply impressed by her teachings of how violence had to have a reason to make it pure and worthy, or one simply became a monster.

Sidonis, a turian mercenary, had joined up when his mate Mierin had. Mierin was an asari, a former Republic soldiers who'd been hurt in a strike against slavers gone bad, left for dead on a battlefield, and Sidonis had nursed her back to health. Mierin was a gentle, wounded soul, but Sidonis was aggressive and hot-headed – he'd nearly gotten killed protecting her from a pack of batarian slavers when Angel and his people shot the slavers dead, and considered helping Angel a debt of honor. The two were young and and naive about a lot of things, but they meant well – and seeing them in love was always something that lighted the darkness always at the edges of Angel's soul.

They all knew what they were doing, in the long run, was hopeless. Omega never changed. It never got better. It only waited for the weak and vulnerable to make a mistake, then destroyed them. But Angel couldn't turn his back on these helpless people, and the rest followed him, slowly becoming as outraged as he had been.

They'd done what they could. It was never enough. They boosted and stole from the gangs and the slavers, trying to assist the people of Vefu. The people, in turn, protected them. More than one had died at the hands of some enraged slaver or angry ganger, looking to hit back at the Angels.

None had sold them out – yet. On Omega, that was some kind of miracle. Angel figured it was only a matter of time before someone's greed or fear outweighed their sense of duty to his little band, and laid up arms and armor for the day when they were sold out. The cybernetics clinic was moved here and there, built up and defended, but they'd end up pissing off the wrong gang one day, and it would be over.

The best they could do was keep the light going a little longer, until Omega put it out.

That was until they'd been scavenging in the trash pit at the Lower Pits one day, and a certain turian had fallen into their hands in the aftermath of the Burning.

The Lower Pits were the place were trash of all kinds ended up. Anything that couldn't be cleanly processed into omnigel found its way here. Most of it was useless. Sometimes, they found some good stuff. Cases of out of date meds, which they could break down for the active ingredients. Trashed armor, they could try to repair. Whatever. Lots of people scavenged here, but few had the equipment to go deep into the pits – Butler had rigged up a lift platform to take them away from the edges, towards the middle, where few could get to.

That day, it had only been Angel, Melenis and Weaver on sludge patrol. They'd already scored a good haul – most of an omni-foundry, almost a ton of scrap iron, and a set of intact casings for eezo molds. They were about to turn and head for home when the Burning had erupted around them, and Angel had decided to stay put. None of them were heavily armed, and from what Erash was picking up over the net, the entire station had gone up.

After the worst of it had passed, they'd heard something banging up above. And then the turian had fallen out of one of the many routing pipes that moved trash from up-station down to the pits, and landed in a pile of sludge. Melenis had been the first to reach him, and gasped at his horrible wounds.

His arm had been torn off, one of his legs was so shattered that the plates had actually splintered, and somewhere during his fall, a piece of metal had sliced into his face, gouging out his eye. Half of the plates on his body were scorched, and many were broken.

Broken bones and cuts littered his form, and his armor was so wrecked as to be unidentifiable. What remained of his face-paint was smeared and unrecognizable, and he was clearly unconscious as he began to sink into the filthy sludge.

Melenis, using her biotics, had gotten him out. They'd cleaned him up and patched the worst of his wounds as best they could, but Ripper said he was beyond the skills or equipment at the clinic for him to save. After arguing, they'd taken him to Doctor Solus in Gozu, with Erash tagging along to help convince the eccentric doctor to help out. Ripper had brought along a case of some cyberware he'd never found a user for, the best he could put together on short notice.

Solus had saved his life, installing the cyberware that Ripper had put together, but it had been touch and go for weeks. The cybernetic arm was top of the line – scavved from a Blue Suns turian mech – but the leg was only basics, and the replacement eye was very crude. The scarring on his facial plates wouldn't fade, and his body was weakened and battered. For weeks he'd lingered on the line between life, and death.

The turian wavered in and out of lucidity, sometimes screaming, other times moaning in agony. Infections tore at him and had to be fought down with third-hand antibiotics. Plates had to be stripped, debrided, cleaned and then fastened back with medigel and flaps of omnigel to reattach to fight off plate rot.

Melenis and Ripper had both been determined to save the turian. Ripper thought he could be a Vakarian, from the remains of the facial marks. He had served, in his legion days, with the forces of Regilus Vakarian, and owed the family a debt of honor. Melenis was simply upset someone had been nearly murdered and tossed into the trash tubes to die. Privately, she admitted to herself it didn't hurt the turian was handsome – even scarred as he was.

Almost three months after he'd been found, his fevers broke and was lucid. What he told Angel changed everything.

Garrus had seen what had caused the Burning – that the Broker had tried to buy Shepard's body from P. , and that somehow the deal had gone bad. He told them bits and pieces of how he and his friends had gotten to Omega, his fight, and how they fell. How his bondmate and all his friends had been killed by the Broker's right hand, Tetrimus.

And he told them wanted to strike back. At the Broker.

Angel let him use their extranet connection, confirming some things. Garrus found that he, himself, had been marked as dead. One of his distant cousins had bonded with his sister, and was now the heir to the family. Liara and Shields were dead. Joker and Tali had survived but were thrown out of the Alliance and vanished. General von Grath was disgraced, Commodore Anderson had gone crazy.

Tetrimus had gotten away.

Telanya was dead.

Angel had spent hours talking to the embittered, broken C-SEC agent. At first, Garrus wanted to transmit the truth – that the Broker had been attempting to sell Shepard's body to the Collectors, with the backing of P. He wanted to go after the Broker's people and kill them.

Angel told him that was pretty much a fool's dream, giving him hard words. "Your friends and wife are dead, turian. Going after the Broker isn't even suicide, it's impossible. No one knows where he is, and he has eyes everywhere. Transmitting something like that in the open would get everyone in this district killed."

With no leads, no gear, no money and owing his very life to the people who'd rescued him, Garrus couldn't argue. Instead he'd worked hard at recovery. At first, broken and wounded, he simply laid in the makeshift medical bed in the Angel's hideout. Erash and Butler had fixed his visor, and Garrus was doing some more repairs to it while he waited for the cybernetic scar tissue to finish healing so he could walk.

Over the next month he'd struggled to adjust to his cybernetics. He'd worked, as he could, helping fix weapons for the Angels, or sit at the comms panel they had, listening for news, rumors, and targets. He worked his body, trying to gain back his strength, and spent hours piecing together bits of an older model Widow rifle so he could at least have a weapon to his name.

And he'd argued, with Angel, trying to convince the man to let him go after the Broker. Surely, someone had information, a lead. Angel dissuaded him. He told him of the many outrages of Omega, and Garrus had seen some of them first hand.

And Angel had said something else: that they were trying to fix it.

Garrus still remembered his words. "If you want to do something, then pay us back for saving your life. Join us, help us save these people. The downtrodden and forgotten of Omega. It won't bring back your wife. It won't bring back your friends. But it might keep someone else from losing their lives, or the lives of their loved ones – and give you time to build up your strength again."

Garrus had joined them, albeit reluctantly. He wasn't unwilling to kill the sort of trash that plagued Vefu District – far from it. But his spirit was broken, that was clear to see. He had nothing to live for. He was a dead man, and nothing roused his energy or fire.

He trailed after the duo of Sidonis and Vortash, and his sniping skill stood out. He could hit targets at ranges none of the rest of them could even dream of. After only a week, he'd made nineteen clean kills, and began helping in the planning of the targets they were going after.

His C-SEC experience, his hardened outlook, and his keen mind had brought more than enough to the table that Angel let him take the lead in designing many of the hits they made. He wasn't very good at scavenging, or the delicate back and forth that Melenis and Krul did in convincing people to help.

But he was very good at killing.

It was a month later they found something important. A smuggler had been operating out of the Niftu District when something went wrong with a trade deal, and he'd fled. He'd been shot down and crashed into a warehouse in Vefu, and by luck Butler and Weaver were in the area, scavenging.

Most of the smuggler's pinnace was a wreck, and so was most of the cargo – except for one thing. A customized set of SkyTalon battle armor. The suit was slimmer than the usual make, with a built in infiltrator cloak that lasted for almost a full minute, the usual omni-axe replaced with powerful mono-edge claws, and low-emissions coverings to aid in stealth assaults.

Such a suit of armor was worth millions of credits, but very few could pilot the thing. Against normal infantry, a single SkyTalon would wreak untold havoc. It was missing the usual SPEAR mini gun that went with it, but even so, the suit could still outmatch almost any non-military equipment a pirate or slaver was likely to get his hands on.

The wreck of the pinnaces' computer gave Weaver enough data to hack the smuggler's warehouse, allowing Angel's people to simply walk in a day later and help themselves to the armory within. Powerful sniper rifles, cases of mini-missiles and grenades, and more. Krul and Erash managed to sell a lot of it to the gangs outside of Vefu, reinvesting the cash into buying a small warehouse near the cybernetic clinic to store their loot. Angel figured they could use the warehouse as a shelter for the homeless, or maybe storage.

Garrus had a different idea. With the smuggler dead and the codes to his secured warehouse, they could use that as a hideout. It was certainly isolated, and more importantly, it was out of Vefu District – if their enemies traced them back to it, the Vefu District wouldn't pay for harboring them. It took a week to move most of their guns and computers there, along with most of the loot from the gang members they hit.

Ripper continued to operate his cybernetic clinic, and Krul continued teaching, but the rest of the Angels now operated out of the warehouse, and eventually dug a secure hideout under it for additional security. With that handled, Garrus turned his attention to the suit of armor.

The SkyTalon suit was something none of the Angels knew how to fly – except Garrus, who'd operated one for part of his service duty with the Hierarchy. It took him a few weeks to get used to it again, but he was able to do so a lot faster than it would have taken Sidonis or another turian to learn to pilot it from scratch.

The SkyTalon's stealth cloak and near invisibility to electronic scanners opened up possibilities. The SkyTalon was serious military hardware, almost immune to most of the small arms the gangers of Omega used. The suits were rated to take a direct hit from everything up to a lance cannon, after all – a shitty Batarian State Arms rifle had no chance to stop him.

Erash, Butler, Garrus and sometimes Montague tinkered with and improved the suit, and once Garrus felt strong enough, he took it for a test drive. He stumbled upon a pair of slavers beating the shit out of a drell, and came down, invisible and lethal, cutting the two batarians down with a single, scything slash of the suit's mono-edge claws. Driven by the powerful myomer muscles of the suit, the results had been gruesome.

The battered, shocked drell had stammered out his amazed thanks to his rescuer. Garrus, pressed for an answer as to who he was, remembered the story Angel had told him about his name. One of the names translated well into turian, and so he used that.

"Call me Archangel."

That had been how it started.

The past year and a half had sort of fallen into place, from Garrus's point of view. The strike against the Talons, who'd begun to terrorize the Vefu District, had been Garrus' idea. His assaults were bloody, fast, and came out of nowhere.

When Garrus had torn apart an entire patrol of Talons as easily as he took apart a single soldier, Angel had begun to see new possibilities. The beauty of the SkyTalon was that few people on Omega thought to look upwards. There was enough electronic emissions that most scanners only functioned in narrow checkpoints, and these could be avoided by the simple expedient of going outside the hull of the station and daring the vacuum – something that was little problem for the sealed suit to endure.

Sniping and then cloaking was so easy to do that it was almost unfair.

When Weaver, in his data trawls, had uncovered a poorly secured data-port for Aria's own security monitoring and communications system, Angel had wasted no time in taking advantage of it, using it to spy on the gangs and inform Garrus of where the Talons would be. Garrus had begun to plan the raids and assassinations with the suit in mind, becoming inventive and cruel in his plans, and the Talons became more and more desperate as nothing they did even slowed him down.

The more they took the Talons apart, the more opportunities they found. As Weaver, Erash, and Sensat continued to grow in skill, they found more openings. The gangs had gotten lax in pure data security, and even the Shadows were hardly the match for ex-STG like Erash. No one really protected against the kind of listening devices and spy-beams Erash could put together, and it didn't take long for them to figure out most of the different gangs communications protocols.

Combined with the SkyTalon's stealth, Archangel seemed to know everything and be everywhere.

The rest had been nothing more than the endless pit of Garrus' rage venting itself upon the filth of Omega. He reveled in their fear and terror, and lost himself in tearing them apart with the SkyTalon. He flashed out of the blackness of the dark spaces in the station, invisible, soaring above the targets and coming down with no warning, or sniping them from far away before they could react. Sometimes, he set ambushes with the other members of Angel's band, but he was the one exposing himself.

Angel had slowly become worried about Garrus' mental stability, and while he had zero sympathy for the gangers, slavers, and other criminals that had made Omega a hellhole, wondered when Garrus would bite off more than he could chew. But again, Garrus surprised him.

When they found information that implicated the Talons as planning on turning on Aria, they sent it to her, along with the haul from some of the Talon's off-the-books activities. It was a pattern he continued. From what Garrus had learned, Aria wasn't responsible for the mess that had claimed the lives of his friends.

She was in a low-level shadow war with the Broker. And as long as Aria was the Broker's enemy, Garrus wouldn't go after her. He had the inklings of a plan, though, one he explained to Angel.

The Broker wanted to take Aria down, but Omega was too strong for that to work conventionally. Garrus figured the more gangs he took down, the more chaos he caused, the more the criminals feared his very name, the more chances the Broker would see to infiltrate his own people on the station. And if Garrus could catch them and interrogate them, he could have a shot at either finding more of the Broker's people he could hit, or maybe drawing out someone who could lead him to the Broker.

Given the gangs were always plotting, Garrus figured they could keep Aria off their back by just giving her the information of what stupidity the gang, merchant or slaver had done that would offend her. And it had worked. Aria made attempts to find them, but they all failed, and eventually she semed to give up.

Archangel's siege on Omega continued. Sooner or later, Garrus was going to get his revenge. He read everything he could on Tetrimus, studied the stories, legends, and hard facts. He knew he'd only get one shot at taking the rogue turian out.

The assault on the gangs had continued, unabated. Every success gave them more funds, more access. Taking down the Twelve Bells had won them the admiration of thousands of Omega's people, and more Districts began seeing the mark of Archangel spray-painted on walls. The extranet was alive with the rumors, the story of the dark vigilante somehow taking on all the gangs and evil of Omega – and winning – becoming a hotly debated topic both on and off Omega.

Garrus had been sadly amused to see his own father, in an interview with the turian state media, give his opinion. "Whoever the turian is doing this, he's acting beyond the law. And yet, Omega itself is beyond the law, or at least, any law but Aria's. He's fighting to protect the weak. I'm not sure I agree with the methods...but the ends? Those I can't argue with."

He wished he could tell his family he was alive, but that was dangerous. And a mess in its own way. It would disrupt Solana's life, and derail the life of his family, who by now had gotten over his death. You couldn't just walk back into people's lives, after all.

Garrus was dead. Only Archangel remained.

Angel's small band did what they could to help Garrus, both in his attacks and in his downtime. His body hurt at times, the damage from his many wounds in the fight with Tetrimus and P. not healing cleanly in some cases. Sidonis constantly cheered him up with sarcastic rejoinders, reminding him a lot of Joker. Krul would keep him informed of what his family was doing. Angel made a point to funnel some of their credits towards helping pay for the treatments Garrus' mother needed, anonymously.

Melenis, in particular, tried to get closer to Garrus, but he didn't let her – or anyone else – in too far. There were times he wondered if Telanya would be angry at him for not just moving on with his life instead of living some kind of half-life of revenge and sorrow. And he admitted to himself he was attracted to Melenis. Her kind spirit, her outrage at the way the people of Omega were hurt, her dedication to healing – these were all good things.

But he couldn't bring himself to let go of the pain.

And sooner or later, he knew, they might be sold out, or found out, or come under assault due to sheer bad luck. He couldn't endure losing someone else the way he'd lost Tel. He didn't even know, technically, if he was sane any more.

A sane being wouldn't do some of the things he'd done. There were times he'd come to himself in the middle of some red slaughter and wondered if his father would look at him in disgust. If Shepard would shake her head at him. If Pallin would call him a murderer.

But the pain drove him on. Pain, and the need for vengeance.

When Angel's information had come up with the lead on the Wind Daggers, it revealed the group was probably a front for Broker agents. That had been what Garrus had been waiting for. Garrus had hit them hard, the group having discounted the rumors of Archangel, thinking their heavy JOTUN mechs would protect them.

Weaver had hacked the mechs and turned them on their masters, and then Archangel had torn the survivors to pieces. They'd captured the Daggers ship, stuffed with eezo and weapons, and the haul was enough to even stagger Angel.

He'd wanted to focus on keeping the fact the Daggers were out of commission quiet, but Garrus had been more interested in what he found in the ships computers – namely, that the Daggers were here because they'd struck a huge deal with the Shadows, for all the information on Aria's defenses. They'd been hoping to find something they could use to assassinate her, probably.

But the draw-down boxes they had in their possession, as well as the hoard of wealth on their small ship, was too much to overlook. Angel had made the call to see if they couldn't recover the data the Shadows were offering, and turn it to their own purposes. And it had gone as perfectly as every other operation to date.

The results – the commandeering of the mechs, the message, taking advantage of the chaos to wreak havoc on the gangs, the hack of the GTS defenses to blow up the slavers so secure in their off-station ships – it had been deeply satisfying to Garrus, and to the rest of the Angels. But Garrus was more interested in the tiny bits of data the Wind Daggers had gotten from the Broker.

The Broker was waiting for an opening to invade Omega. The Daggers were actually commissioned by the Broker, one of several units, to slowly built up reputations and infiltrate Omega. When the time was right, these units would sabotage Aria's defenses and open the station to another Broker-backed invasion. Garrus had laughed when he realized that he'd been right – the Broker was taking advantage of the chaos.

The plan was working. Sooner or later, as Archangel tore the gangs apart, the Broker would have no tools to work with on the station, and would have to commit to sending his own operatives to the station to do anything. Operatives who could be captured and interrogated.

Garrus was close, he could almost feel his long-burning need for revenge blossoming. All he had to do was keep his shit together a little bit longer.

They had the Wind Daggers ship, and a huge hoard of eezo. They had crippled the gangs, the slavers, and most of the more disgusting merchants. Six districts clandestinely supported their efforts, and no one had a clue of the existence of their real base, the warehouse in Niftu, or their hidey holes in various places across the station.

They were secure, and all he had to do now was be patient. He sighed, as Melenis finished removing the leg armor.

"Thanks, Mel." His voice was tired, flanging more than usual as he stood, his back aching from the slightly cramped stance the suit forced on him as he stood.

She smiled up at him, and then bit her lip. "It's nothing. Have you eaten yet?"

He shook his head. "I'm … not that hungry. I think I'm going to get some rest, instead." He turned away, heading down the narrow corridors of the small base towards his own quarters, and Melenis sighed.

The door on far side of the room opened, and Mierin stepped out, folding her arms. "You never give up, do you?"

Melenis shot her a look. "He's hurting. I help people who are hurting."

The younger asari woman sighed. "I know that, Mel. But I also remember what happened when my sister's bondmate was killed. She was never the same again. She just slowly withered away and didn't wake up one morning. Garrus isn't … he isn't seeing you. All he's seeing is his dead wife, and his dead friends. That's all that's driving him."

Melenis stood, picking up a piece of the armor to carry it over to the ultrasonic sink in the wall. "That isn't true. He's a good person, I can see that. He's upset and worried about the people in the District."

Mierin nodded. "I don't doubt that. But that doesn't mean he's going to let anyone else into his heart." Her voice softened. "You know what Sidonis is the most scared of?"

Melenis smiled wryly. "Not hearing the sound of his own voice?"

Mierin laughed at that, then shook her head. "No. He's scared he's not strong enough to protect me. Turians...they can't handle the idea of their mates being hurt or killed. It messes them up, badly. Garrus didn't survive losing his wife, I don't think. A part of him died, and it's not coming back."

She placed her hand on Melenis's shoulder. "And it's not fair to him to expect him to risk another part of his soul trying to open up to you … when this could all go wrong tomorrow. You think he could take it if you died on him too?"

Melenis put the piece of armor down, nodding. "I know. Goddess, I know."

Mierin gave her a hug, and then smiled. "I can't blame you though. That is one good looking turian."

In his own quarters, Garrus lay out flat on his small sling-hammock, thinking, until the door opened and Sidonis stepped through. "All hail the conquering hero, Vakarian!"

Garrus flicked a mandible. "Jealous again, Sidonis?"

Sidonis' own mandibles flickered. "Hardly. You want to run out in a flying deathtrap and have half of Omega shooting at you, feel free. Still...I got twenty four head-shots today, old man. Beat you by two."

Garrus felt himself smiling. "And that would be almost impressive...if I had not also dropped sixty eight of them in hand to hand. Nine with the pistol. And one with the crate of dark-smoke."

Sidonis laughed. "That kill was beautiful. I particularly liked the part where the krogan's flesh was melting right off, but he was so fucking high he was singing a song from Fleet and Flotilla. Who knew krogan were fans?"

Garrus sighed, and Sidonis sat down. "Came to make sure you weren't having another panic attack. You know how you get after the big fights."

Garrus waved his hand. "I'm fine."

Sidonis rumbled in his chest. "Tork-shit. If someone killed Mierin, I would never, ever be fucking fine again." He hesitated. "I know Angel is still not down with this suicidal plan to chase the Broker. But ...when you go, bring me with you. You'll need back up."

Garrus sat up. "I can't." He held up a hand before Sidonis could say anything. "You said it yourself – it's a suicidal plan. I don't think I'll survive it, even if I find his location and get there somehow. I've seen Tetrimus fight. Even in the suit...my chances of killing him are almost nothing."

His eyes met Sidonis' gaze squarely. "I'm not going to put Mierin through feeling what I am, or what I saw Liara go through when Shepard died. She needs you, not more pain."

Sidonis sighed. "I know. But … spirits...the dishonorable bastard has to pay! Bad enough he did what he did to your friends, but he betrayed the Hierarchy and the Primarch!"

Garrus chuckled. "And you're out here on Omega because you're a fine and upstanding example of the meritocracy?"

Sidonis leaned against the wall. "No. Too much aggression, not enough wisdom. Too irresponsible to show the proper duty and sacrifice. Just never resonated much with me...but that doesn't mean I'd turn on my own fucking people!"

Garrus sighed, laying back in the sling. "I know, Sidonis. But take my advice. Grab all the living you can, while you can. When it's gone...there's nothing left to keep living for."

Sidonis folded his arms. "I don't know that I buy that. I would rather die than lose Mierin, but I know she wouldn't want me giving up on life if she died in an accident, or something. How long are you going to let Mel throw herself at you before you sit her down and give her a firm no?"

Garrus winced. "I've never met anyone even less tactful than I am, Sidonis. How do you do it?"

The other turian waved his hand airily. "Charisma, my talon brother. Look it up on the extranet. But seriously – "

Garrus shook his head. "Maybe it's because she's had two relationships go bad on her already? I'm not the most sensitive soul...and my mind isn't right most days. But I'm not blind either. She's built me into some kind of hero complex, and no matter how gentle I am in letting her down, it's going to hurt her bad."

Sidonis pushed off the wall. "Not any worse than it will hurt her when you go off and get killed by Tetrimus. Just think about what I said. I doubt your wife would want you suffering like this, and you like her – any fool can see that."

Garrus looked up at him. "It isn't that. It isn't even that she might die and I'd be left alone again. It's that she's … she thinks I'm something I'm not. She thinks I'm a good person, that I'm just in a bad place, that she can heal me."

Something about his tone made Sidonis's plates rise. "...and you aren't a good person?"

Garrus closed his eyes. "A good person doesn't feel joy in butchery, or make his victims suffer. He doesn't toy with their remains and kill them in a way to insult them. What I'm doing isn't about justice, or protecting the weak. It's about hate, and a need to kill to quiet the pain in my soul."

Sidonis sighed. "And when it's over?"

Garrus smiled. "I'll be dead."


	5. Arc I : the Butcher's Shop

_**A/N**:  
_

_As I explained on my site, right now we'll be alternating - one chapter focused on Shepard, one on someone else. This is a Shepard chapter.  
_

_A few people have commented that Shepard is 'backsliding' towards how she was in OSABC I. Some of that should be expected. Shepard's development on a personal level was, in some ways, a cheat - the bond she had with Liara provided an artificial stability and feeling of self-worth she didn't develop naturally. At the same time, keep in mind Shepard has had less than twenty four hours at this point to learn she's been dead two years, is now alive again, and the most important person in her life is dead. _

_Or in other words, **ANGST FOR THE ANGST GOD!**_

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

* * *

_'At some point, they started calling the base the Butcher's Shop, which was just the tackiest shit I'd ever heard. It was probably that bosh'tet Vigil's idea.'  
_

_\- Kiala'Dost, Cerberus Engineer, to David Anderson  
_

* * *

The trip to what she was told would be her base of operations only took a few hours, and in that time Shepard mostly sat in the main cabin aboard the luxurious pinnace, lost in thought. She tried hard not to think about Liara's death, as it would only make her upset and depressed. There would be more time to grieve later, when she wasn't being observed by these fucking Cerberus pukes – and she could hardly fail to notice that Trellani and Chambers were both watching her carefully.

Of all the people on board – Joker was busy flying and Tali tending to the engines – it was up to fucking Miranda to try to make conversation. Shepard could tell the woman was a gifted speaker just by listening to her elegant, educated voice, asking her questions about her memory and specific things they wanted to test about her sensations of touch and sight. It was a good distraction from the things she didn't want to dwell on.

Like Liara's death. Garrus's death. Telanya's death. Hell, her own death. Not thinking about it was hard. Not thinking about the fact that she had been dead, and now was alive was also hard. Almost all of her friends were killed, the few who remained alive were either working for Cerberus, or disgraced.

It wasn't something she had any way to process, and she found herself falling back on the old method of just pushing shit down and locking it away in her heart. It hurt. Everything hurt. But the words she'd told Liara so long ago had to apply to her as well. She couldn't just let herself go to fucking pieces, no matter how much she wished she could. She had to keep her shit together, kill up another pointy-faced motherfucker, and then save the goddamned galaxy again.

Why in fuck it was up to her to do this she didn't know. Then again, she didn't know why she'd been tapped as a Spectre, or why she'd survived all the years she had. She didn't know why she'd been lucky enough to find the love she had with Liara, or the little span of time where life had seemed worth living.

All she could do was hold onto those memories. To tell herself that revenge alone wouldn't heal her. She needed to see everyone understand what she had lost, and she had to keep the few friends she still have alive from losing what they had. She didn't come all this way and fight past the shit she'd gone through in her life to relapse into some self-pitying wreck. She would endure.

So instead of breaking down into sobs again, she kept her face ice cold. She spent the trip quietly answering and asking questions about her new body from Miranda, trying to keep her voice steady.

She learned that the Revenant Project's goal – to bring her back alive and exactly as she had been in life – had been compromised by the damage her body had taken. She wasn't a college graduate, and the kind of techno-babble Trellani and Chambers had used to explain how she'd been brought back meant nothing to her. Miranda used much simpler, easier language.

In short, they had to trick her body into working again, then keep all the organs going with mechanical parts. Some things couldn't just be cloned up – especially missing parts. Skin was easy, but regular skin didn't go over cybernetics very well, so while some of her skin was real, most of it was fake. Cloned organs tended to fail over time, so each one had monitors and cyberware to keep it going and report failures. Her brain was missing a few pieces, and the damage the Beacon had done to it wasn't helping.

They'd gotten around that by cloning pieces of the brain that were damaged, and re-anchoring her memories by copying them to a gray-box, then feeding them back. Trellani had also done something – Miranda wasn't clear about the details, but it wasn't bonding. Some mystical asari crap that Shepard decided she really didn't want to know the details about.

The gray-boxes worried her, but Miranda tried to calm her fears. She had two of them – one to let her record everything she saw and heard, and a second one to augment her memories. Each one was isolated from any sort of remote access, and if need be Shepard could even turn them off, although Miranda recommended that she didn't. They weren't sure that her brain would still be able to make normal long-term memories, but the gray-box could handle that.

The things they'd needed to add to her body had not been to turn Shepard into a killing machine, but because it was the minimum necessary to keep her _alive _and functional. Things like gyroscopes in her wrists and hips to aid in firing, and linking her eyes to targeting computers, were needed – because part of her brain that had to control balance was not working right, and they'd never figured out a good way to fix it.

She was up-armored in a lot of ways – sub-dermal armor, metal plates in the chest, an entirely artificial skull – because shock affected people with lots of cyberware differently than a healthy, normal person. The body couldn't handle it as well, and clotting, platelets and the like disrupted cybernetic function in many ways. Some of her internal organs were barely working right as it was, given all the strange substances they'd shot her up with and weird technology they'd used, and if she took severe damage her whole body might just turn off.

The armoring she had was pretty complete – the false skin was the first level, then fortified myomer muscles under sub-dermal plates of super-thin but tough armor. Most light and medium pistols, light rifles, and submachine guns would just bounce or do very minor damage. Heavier rifles and pistols would still penetrate, but not far – most of those would be defeated by the sub-dermal plating. Her chest and skull were the most heavily protected, and even a direct hit from a sniper rifle wouldn't penetrate either of those – even an eye-shot would find a plate of armor between the brain and the cybernetic eyes, and her neck had shock absorbers built into the spinal column.

Heavy machine guns, high explosives, plasma and the like would still fuck her up – and Miranda warned her against thinking she was invincible. She was a lot faster and stronger now – she could probably keep up with a salarian in the speed department, and punch out a krogan – but if she got hurt she wouldn't be walking it off. Some of the cybernetics in her body could repair itself, but most of it couldn't – and the armor could absorb a lot of punishment, but when it failed, it tended to splinter, which would do a lot of internal damage.

They'd added a few tricks to her body, too. She had a tiny omnigel fab unit, that would create a small handful of handy items, such as a mag-lock pick, minor repair tools, circuit leads, or the like. She had a canister of medigel shoved into her somewhere, and channels to distribute it instantly, to stop bleeding before it got started. She had a small device in her hip that would lessen the effect of some anti-biotic attacks had on her. Her throat had a covering over the windpipe to stop her from being strangled. Her hands and feet had attachments to let her magnetically attach to walls, and her elbows and knees sported short, extendable omni-blades.

The most startling change, though, was to her biotics. Miranda explained they'd managed to create and insert additional nodes into her body while she was dead, and those nodes had responded normally when they woke her back up. She was now stronger than any human biotic who'd ever lived, and while they had no tests done on how strong that would be, Miranda said it would allow Shepard to pull off attacks and biotics that no one but asari could usually use.

Of course, she still had no bio-amp – one was on the base, but testing would be required before she could use it. Likewise, Miranda said she'd have an upgraded suit of armor, but that was also at the base. Even so, in her bare skin, she could do a lot of damage. Shepard had already figured that out, just by punching dents into solid steel walls – but having it all detailed out was a mix of chilling and faintly cool.

All in all, the amount of credits they'd tossed at her to bring her back to life was staggering. When Shepard had expressed her doubts about the wisdom of spending so much to bring back one person, Miranda pointed out that they'd already made back half the money they'd spent on Shepard by licensing out the technologies developed to human corporations, and that in particular some of the advances in brain scanning and cloning they had pioneered were already saving lives. In the long run, Miranda estimated the project would more than pay for itself even if Shepard died tomorrow, in terms of credits.

What troubled Shepard the most was why the Illusive Man had actually brought her back, and why he was willing to expend so much effort and money to win her over. She wasn't stupid enough to think she was 'just' a soldier. She could grasp, on some level, that she had many things that most soldiers didn't – fame, nobility, her Spectre status. But those things had all died with her – and keeping her resurrection a secret meant she couldn't reclaim them.

Miranda had suggested that perhaps he valued her for the fact that she'd stopped Nazara's plans, but Shepard didn't buy that. It wasn't like she'd killed the Reaper – hell, she hadn't even been able to kill Saren or Benezia. Ashley Williams had taken down Saren, and Benezia had basically killed herself.

Miranda had countered with the obvious – someone had wanted her dead, and if the Illusive Man's thesis was correct – that the Broker was working for the Collectors, who were Reaper agents – that meant the Reapers feared her. Shepard found herself smiling at the idea, but didn't buy it fully.

She suspected that TIM's plans for her had less to do with her ability at stopping Reapers and more to do with cleaning up Cerberus' image. If she was seen working with Cerberus, after all, people would either assume Shepard had suddenly turned evil – fat chance – or that Cerberus was not the same pile of alien-murdering jackasses they'd been a few years back. She had no intention of whitewashing any Cerberus bullshit, and if TIM thought she could be bought off with resources and a nice speech, he was in for a surprise.

She swallowed as she found herself wondering what Liara would think of this, and pushed the thought away. Ahern's voice came to her, bitching about her acting like some emo shitfaced clown, and she let herself smile at the memory.

But she couldn't smile for long. She was in this alone, really. She had no one she could be absolutely sure she could trust. She didn't really think Cerberus was out to get her – and TIM was so confident that she'd agree that she couldn't see them risking her anger by doing the sort of things the old Cerberus had been up to. That didn't mean they were all puppies and light now, either, and she knew full well if TIM had a choice between double-crossing her and doing what he felt needed to be done for humanity, she'd be tossed on her ass in a second.

She wasn't even sure who she could confide in. She was glad that Tali and Joker were here, but they had changed a great deal. The Tali she knew had almost been worshipful of her father, always frightened of his disapproval, nervous and unsure. This Tali was confident, bitter and mature – and had stuck the Cerberus insignia on herself. Shepard hadn't missed the significance of that. Whatever the quarian woman had gone through, it was probably even more fucked up than Tali was saying for her to be proud of joining alien-killing terrorist asshats.

Joker had been irreverent as usual, but even she could see he was very at ease with these Cerberus people. And in any case, Joker wasn't the sort of person who looked deeply into events. He would go along with whatever Tali wanted, she suspected, in much the same way that Liara went along with whatever Shepard had wanted. As long as he could fly and they took care of Tali, Joker was unlikely to dig to find out the dark side of Cerberus.

She didn't quite know what to think about the Cerberus people, except that Chambers pissed her off, and from what little she knew about Trellani, the asari seemed dangerous as all hell. If she was actually sleeping with the Illusive Man, that meant a lot of things, none of them very good. Liara's memories of Trellani were never detailed except for rumors, and most of those very recent, but Shepard didn't need those memories to see the lurking crazy in the asari's eyes.

The Illusive Man himself bothered her. She'd expected someone like that to be a physical coward, hiding behind smoke and mirrors, or remote transmissions. He'd actually let her get within killing distance of him and hadn't flinched. That was impressive, in a way – she was still pretty sure he had some kind of backup method of stopping her, but it was a risk. The way he handled words and presented himself – utter confidence, complete knowledge – was daunting, and she couldn't even hope to out-think the bastard.

Chambers was a goddamned shrink, and a mix of infuriating and reassuring. Shepard hated mind games and the red-head was apparently good at them, which didn't make her any easier to like. Shepard also didn't have a good feel as to why she was tagging along, except for the idea that she might lose her mind. The idea that she needed psychological help was hardly new – Jiong, bless his heart, had constantly harped on that point – but she wanted it from someone she could at least trust to be acting in her best interests,and Chambers looked at her more like a test subject. On the other hand, Shepard wasn't stupid enough to discount the fact that having someone who could understand her mental issues might actually be needed if she had a complete nervous breakdown at some point.

The only Cerberus people she liked so far were Taylor and Miranda. Lawson certainly looked and sounded like a cast-iron bitch, but she was obviously invested in Shepard's well-being, and the dismay in her voice at Shepard having watched the video of her team dying seemed real. And she was a bit bitchy and sarcastic, things that would make other people dislike her, but that Shepard actually liked. Shepard wasn't going to pretend that these people had not investigated her very carefully, and the fact that Miranda was built like a sexier version of Beatrice Shields was hard to chalk up to coincidence. Shepard didn't think the Cerberus woman would try anything – God, that would be awkward as shit – but she grimly admitted that if they had that idea, Miranda would be her type.

She really hoped they had enough sense not to pull that shit. She wasn't in the mood.

Taylor sounded solid and didn't try to bullshit her, refusing to blow any smoke up her ass about the fact Cerberus seemed legit but could always turn out to be bad seeds. If he had an agenda, it would be plain to see. Von Grath didn't have much use for hangers on or slick social types, and if the man really was an armor captain under her old general, he would be as straightforward as he had so far presented himself.

Not that she had much choice but to go along with Cerberus and at least try to see if they were not full of shit, given her lack of options. If the Alliance had been worth spit, or if she thought she could have gone back and not been tossed in a cell and then shot in the head, she would have told TIM to go fuck himself. Working for Cerberus was somewhere on her list of Shit Never to Do between becoming a slaver and having sex with a krogan, after all.

But she didn't seem to have any options. And she couldn't actually say that what he'd pointed out about the Alliance and the Council was a lie, either. The Council wasn't blind or stupid – but they'd already proven they would put politics first. Just because she'd managed to win them over to some degree didn't mean they'd listen to some crazy cybered-up zombie version of herself, and even if they did, the Alliance would throw a bitch fit.

That didn't mean she was going to trust these assholes. But she wanted to see what TIM's plans were first, and if he could follow through on his big talk about resources.

O-TWCD-O

As it turned out, TIM was apparently a master of understatement.

They arrived in a desolate binary star system within some kind of dark gaseous nebula. Several asteroid belts circled the star, along with a single blue-white gas giant.

Shepard had been called up to the pinnaces' observation deck, where she found Jack Harper standing next to Trellani and Miranda, staring out the windows. He smiled thinly as she entered, a glass of whiskey in his hand, and gestured out the window.

"Welcome to System TH34. Surveyed eleven years ago by a human scout team. The information never made it back to Alliance Stellar Cartography, since the scout ship was on my payroll. It sports three asteroid belts, two of them with concentrations of titanium, palladium, iron, and copper, and a single gas giant suitable for HE3 refining. The nebula itself is fairly opaque beyond fifty light years away, and the nearest mass relay is in the Indirus system."

Shepard glanced outside, then turned to face him. "And this system is in the Traverse, or where?"

Trellani spoke, her tones elegant and clipped."It is actually located at the very tip of the Black Rim. A low traffic area, one frequented mostly by merchant types. Too close to the salarians for pirates to bother with, or scouts looking for new systems, but far enough out that patrol ships don't bother. From the Indirus relay you can hit the Traverse, the Shrike Abyssal, and a dozen other trade lanes in less than two jumps."

Shepard folded her arms as the pinnace headed for the outer asteroid belt. "Well, that's nice. I assume we are taking this side-trip because...?"

Jack Harper turned fully away from the window. "As I told you, Shepard, I'm committed to providing you the kind of support you need to get the tasks I have planned for you completed. At the same time, I'm a strong believer in cell structure when it comes to maintained secrecy. Cerberus has other operations, all organized into independent cells. Your cell, the Revenant Cell, answers to you, and through you, me. As such, you need a base of operations – not only for your ships and men, but for the equipment we'll need to keep your body in working order, and to build up any additional forces you may require."

He gestured out the window. "Even if you decide not to work with me and expose all this to the Alliance or the Council, nothing here will lead to them being able to locate any other Cerberus operations. The people recruited to serve, with two exceptions, have no links to Cerberus, and the information Ms. Chambers and Miranda have about the organization is now over two years out of date."

Shepard folded her arms. "So if I double cross you, you don't get burned. You don't trust me?"

Harper gave her a look. "It isn't a matter of trust, Shepard, so much as prudence. It is always possible that you could be attacked, or tracked back here. I can't risk all of Cerberus on your ability to stay hidden...or on your choice to change your mind in the future." He paused to sip his drink. "And I trust you to do what you think is best – which may or may not coincide with what I think is best. That's the drawback I face in bringing you back, one I'm prepared to accept."

Shepard didn't bother to argue that, as the pinnace approached a very large asteroid. She could see some sort of docking bay built into the side of it, and arched an eyebrow. "And I suppose this base is where I'll be operating from, while you'll be elsewhere?"

Harper nodded. "Indeed. The resources I've been gathering since your death have mostly been reinvested into this venture. I have no need for large numbers of military assets myself – most of my investments are in different directions. If Cerberus has a military arm, it will be under your control."

The pinnace entered the docking bay, touching down lightly. From the windows, Shepard could only see a row of sleek looking fighters and some shuttles. "And this bullshit about a fleet? All I see is shuttles."

Harper gave her a smile. "This is the small craft docking bay, Shepard. We'll show you around and let you decide if the resources are adequate."

O-TWCD-O

Shepard had to admit, almost an hour later – Harper could certainly deliver on grandiose promises.

The base was comprised of six decks, along with a docking bay for small craft and a huge hanger for larger ships. The asteroid was comprised of stony iron, but hollowed out, and the inner hull was reinforced with three dreadnought class kinetic barriers. Ten steerable GARDIAN laser arrays covered the surface, along with over a dozen triple-mount, rapid fire GTS launchers, four turreted heavy accelerator cannons, and a full ECM suite. The surrounding fifteen asteroids were also fortified with light kinetic barriers, GTS missiles and GARDIAN arrays.

Harper had promised her a fleet, but it wasn't the fleet she was expecting. Two heavy cruisers formed the center of it, along with ten smaller destroyers and a light carrier. The escort was fifteen light, fast frigates. The ships were only lightly manned, most of the work done by specially designed LOKI mechs and heavy use of VI systems, as well as what Miranda referred to as 'a special personnel system you'll meet a bit later'.

They were all heavily armed and armored, low-slung and vicious looking ships. The dark black and gray color scheme, along with the angular, elegant lines made them look like they were straining to move and attack.

Joker said the flagship was still having a few last minute features added, and had its own docking bay – they'd see that later. She shrugged. While certainly impressive, ships alone didn't mean shit, but the cost of the fleet itself was more indication that TIM could move serious cash and wasn't stingy about spending it. She worried about what that meant, though – just because he was rich didn't mean he was going to blow money on things she wouldn't need … and what in God's name would she need an entire battle fleet plus a carrier for?

She walked along the stark white corridors, sourly noting more Cerberus logos hurled about like graffiti, and just listened to the tour.

The top deck was called Operations, and was given over to communications, planning, and intelligence. Below that was Science and Medical, where researching what Shepard found would be done, as well as a full hospital for casualties, and the facilities to repair and maintain her body would happen. Then came Habitation, a mix of living quarters, eating faculties, entertainment rooms, and briefing rooms.

Supply and Armory was the next deck, given over to a large hydroponics area, recycling facilities, and a fueling refinery that sent out automated ships to harvest HE3 from the system's gas giant. An armory was here as well, along with faculties such as shooting ranges and training rooms.

Storage and Manufacturing dominated its own deck, split between several omni-foundries of various sizes, equipment to slowly manufacture fighters and other small craft from materials in the asteroid belt, and a large amount of storage space. Finally, the Environmental and Security deck held the power plant, air production facilities, a large number of mechs, and the armored command center that controlled the base defenses, both internal and external.

Other features of the base were more geared towards espionage than defense. She had a real-time QEC link to the Illusive Man and his own intelligence networks, as well as links to thirty deployable, FTL-drive equipped stealth spy drones. Each one was the size of a small police cutter, and used the sort of heat-suppression technology the Normandy did to stay nearly invisible to long range sensors. The drones could monitor communications and provide sensor or visual data, as well as launch their own micro-drones to scout planetary surfaces.

The Illusive Man and Trellani had stayed on the pinnace, but everyone else had disembarked. He said he'd be in touch once she got settled in, and suggested she tour the facilities to get familiar with everything. She wasn't surprised to see him cut and run, but she could ask the questions she still needed answers to another time.

Tali and Joker had apparently been here before, so they lead the way and let Shepard decide what to see and where to go next. Miranda and Chambers trailed behind her, mostly quiet, although Miranda would interject when Shepard had questions, while Taylor said he'd been in security if he was needed.

She started in Operations, which involved an elevator trip. She was happy to note the damned thing moved quickly, and wondered vaguely if the coffee maker on this base would be as topnotch as everything else.

The center of operations was a gigantic starmap, where information about each star system could be brought up on haptic screens. The systems were colored based on who controlled the system and known dangers – Broker agents, pirates, civil wars, and the like were all displayed. Along with this were a dozen ex-AIS agents. Most of the agents had family or friends who'd been on the colonies that had vanished, and all of them had been fired for trying to follow up on the disappearances.

Shepard frowned, and addressed the lead agent, a skinny woman with messy brown hair named Trudy Menrows to explain why. "Doesn't make sense the Alliance would just blow the colony disappearances off. I mean, I get they want the wildcat colonies scared, but what will they do when an Alliance colony vanishes? And why fire you over it?"

Trudy gave an exasperated sigh. "The fools are convinced it won't happen. With the Terra Firma types in charge, most of the border patrols have been puled back. The Alliance is churning out more ships than ever, but none of them are being used to to protect the fringes of our territory – instead, the defenses of Class II and III colonies, and Sol, are being built up."

The agent gestured to the map. "We haven't established a single new colony since the Benezia Incident that wasn't a wildcat colony. The AIS was never told why, only that the order came down from the Lords of Sol. Knowing what I do now, maybe they're getting ready for the Reapers. All I know is that they took out two wildcat colonies in the Venthus Expanse – and then one further away, skipping two almost defenseless class I colonies." She paused. "Most of us tried to get the brass to at least allocate some drones to keep the wildcat colonies under surveillance – but the politics right now back home were completely poisonous to that idea, and we all got shitcanned."

Shepard frowned. "Well, you're probably better off here, where at least you'll get listened to. So, your little group of analysts here thinks the Collectors are behind the abductions? Any proof?"

The agent shrugged. "Honestly ma'am? We aren't sure yet who is doing it. There's not just a lack of evidence – it's like each site was vacuumed clean. The only hints we have were the asari on a few of the colonies, who remember nothing, and the bites or stings they suffered. The biology on the bites is clean, and we can't even be sure what made them because asari regenerate and they closed up in hours. I know one thing, though – whoever it is, they have some crazy advanced technology."

Shepard glanced back at her. "Why do you say that?"

Trudy sighed. "It's a logical premise, based on what we've seen so far. Mainly because we've moved as quickly as we could on some of the disappearances – Cerberus, I mean, not the Alliance. In one case we reached the site barely twelve hours after we lost contact with the colony, and not only did we not find any evidence, there weren't even any hints of weapons fire or engine discharges. You'd need some advanced tech to kidnap eighty thousand people in a few hours and leave not a single footprint behind."

Shepard nodded. "How did you guys end up working for Cerberus, anyway?"

Trudy's voice was quiet as she spoke. "Most of us were recruited just a few weeks ago, pretty much out of the blue. Cerberus has pretty bad associations with the AIS, and we know a lot of what they were up to." The woman sighed. "But I was around long enough to remember that before the AIS took a hand in it, Cerberus wasn't as bad as it became."

Shepard didn't know if she bought that or not, but continued the tour. Operations had a lot of weird facilities – forensics labs, ballistics ranges, interrogation rooms and the like – and more communications and spy equipment than she had ever heard of. All in all, almost fifty former AIS agents staffed the place, along with about a dozen 'independents' – private investigators or ex-cops, all of whom had lost family or friends to the abductions.

Operations would be where she put together her investigations and campaigns, Miranda explained, as they descended to the next level. It was designed with an eye to find what other investigations might have ignored, but also to leverage intelligence and surveillance capability in a way that Shepard could decide how to use instead of being given pieces and parts of.

The medical and science level was a bit creepier when she realized a fourth of it was dedicated solely to keeping her alive and working. She met the science team who'd resurrected her, and got a tour of the many labs and operating theaters she'd end up in at some point. Some of it looked more like a repair shop than a medical facility, which drove home to her quite forcefully her unnatural nature.

She found it didn't bother as much as it probably should have. Maybe it hadn't hit her yet, or maybe she was so overloaded with other shit that the fact she'd need arc welding equipment to fix her body up at some point was actually funny. It looked impressive and expensive and most of the doctors were the nose-in-air kinds she'd dealt with all her life until Chakwas and Sedanya had come along.

The second surprise she got was to find Doctor Sedanya here, working on something in the large medical bay. The asari doctor looked much the same as she had the last time Shepard had seen her, except instead of an Alliance uniform she now wore the same kind of thin armored bodysuit Miranda did.

"Doctor Sedanya?"

The asari looked up, and smiled gently. "I see they actually succeeded in their mad science project. Welcome back to the shores of life, Major."

Shepard glanced around the bay before facing the doctor squarely. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Sedanya sighed, sitting down in a nearby chair. "And I was not expecting to be here five months ago, either. But my mate began to suffer early stage effects of Kepral's Syndrome – a drell-only illness – and I didn't have the money to pay for the only treatment options. The Alliance was sadly unhelpful in that regard. When I was approached by certain bio-medical researchers who said they could help me out in return for my agreement to work for them, I was tempted to call the Commissars."

She ran a hand over her crests. "Instead, I listened to them. They were as good as their word, and they saved the life of my bondmate. I told them I wouldn't betray the Alliance or harm humans for any reason, and they told me all I was needed for was medical duties – not research of any kind, just healing."

She grimaced. "Then I got to a remote facility and Dr. Lawson here contacted me remotely, showing me video of your living, breathing body."

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. What do you make of it?"

Sedanya gestured to her screens."I've been trying to follow their research and understand all of what the tides they did to you – some of it is remarkably inventive, and some of it is far beyond current science and medical knowledge that it might as well be magic. A great deal of the technology is simply inventive combinations of known cybernetic and biogenetic alterations, but some of it is extremely ethically questionable."

Miranda cleared her throat. "That's arguable. And we didn't experiment on anything except brain-dead clones of Shepard."

Sedanya eyed Lawson before giving an asari shrug. "That may be so, but I wasn't speaking of the research needed to get there, but rather the implementation. Shepard, no matter what these people have told you, there's no way you can even live a few more years without their constant intervention. The biosystems and cybernetics keeping you alive are beyond experimental – and I don't think they can be recreated anywhere in the next ten years without a crash program equal to the one that brought you back to life."

Shepard smiled. "I figured the 'you can go your own way at any time' line was bullshit, but it's nice to see I was right."

Miranda folded her arms. "Not at all. Doctor Sedanya overlooks that the facility we are in now has all the necessary equipment and specialists to keep you alive indefinitely, while being isolated from the Cerberus network as a whole. And no, there are no super-secret self-destruct systems built into this base to keep it out of Alliance hands, if that is what you choose to do."

Sedanya crossed her legs. "Maybe. But even if Dr. Lawson is accurate with that statement, this base remains your … oh, what is the reference? Ah. Achilles heel. If it's destroyed – by enemy attack or Cerberus cutting their losses – it is very unlikely you'll live for much longer."

Shepard shrugged. "Not to be dismissive, doc, but I sorta expected that. TIM would be a complete fool if he didn't have some kind of leverage on me, and the guy doesn't strike me as a fool."

Miranda sighed. "He didn't spent billions bringing you back to life just to stab you in the back, Shepard."

Shepard smiled. "Yeah, I know. But he didn't spend billions to have me turn on him without a way to prevent it either, Miranda."

The rest of the level was given over to science stations and other kinds of labs. Miranda explained that they were looking into new kinds of armor and weapons, as well as experimental support equipment like battle-suits and VI-driven expert systems that could provide needed skills in the field.

Habitation was mostly what it sounded like, although Shepard was amused to see she had a nearly palatial set of rooms for her own use, including some kind of private medical bed and her own eating spaces. A cabinet full of clothes in black and gray, all expensive and upscale, was matched by elegant furnishings. A small room with an omni-foundry and a glass wall with mounts for various ship models was just gravy.

She glanced sourly at the wide double bed in the bedroom chamber and shot Miranda an irritated look. "Expecting me to use that?"

It was Chambers who answered her. "We don't know what you will choose to do in the long run, ma'am. The only one of our team who experienced bond-loss, Matriarch Trellani, said everyone reacts differently. Some immediately try to seek out another bondmate, others bury themselves in strings of relationships, and others … never deal with anything of that nature again. We'd rather be prepared for whatever choices you make than try to corral you."

Shepard sighed. "Whatever. I don't like luxury, though."

Miranda's lips quirked. "Yes, well, I'm afraid both the Illusive Man and Matriarch Trellani are fond of it."

Skipping the rest of Habitation, she went through the rest of the base. The armory and manufacturing areas were just as overbuilt and impressive as medical, with the capability of producing a literal army of mechs given enough resources, and mining equipment to get those resources. The armory was stocked with every kind of weapon Shepard could imagine – including racks of designs she'd sketched out in her own notebook.

She found a rack of ODINs from said notebook in her personal armory room, along with several sets of white-painted Spectre armor and a single, slightly battered pistol. She picked it up wonderingly, glancing at Miranda.

"We had an agent in the recovery action on Alchera. Your rifle was destroyed in the crash, and your ODIN was taken by David Anderson – but Saren's Sunfire pistol had gotten knocked under a fallen control panel and missed. The journal was stolen by P.'s scavengers and tossed in with your body in the stasis pod we recovered you in. We decided to utilize its contents to build weapons you might wish to use."

Shepard had left the notebook, and the haptic frame of Liara, in her personal quarters. She hefted the Sunfire-B pistol, before exhaling and setting it back down.

"Let's keep going."

They finished the tour in a slightly smaller and empty docking bay, after going through the storage and security areas, only to find Joker and Tali waiting for them. Shepard glanced out over the empty bay and complex fueling systems built into the ceiling, and then turned to Joker.

"What are you two here for?"

Joker gave her a grin. "We just got word that your early Christmas present would be coming in a few minutes. I wanted to be here to show her off."

Shepard considered his words, then glanced at him sidelong. "If you bought me an asari stripper, Tali's going to need a new husband."

"Wha-? No! Jeez, always with the doubting. Look, this is going to be awesome."

Tali merely patted his arm while tilting her head at Shepard. "He's a little excited."

Shepard found herself smiling at the image the two of them made, and then turned as Miranda tapped her on the shoulder.

She turned, blinking as a ship slowly entered the docking bay.

At first glance it was the size of an Alliance light cruiser, but the lines were wrong for that. The heavily curved center section flared into arched, thin wings each bearing a pair of framework engines with heavy steerable thrust units behind them. Long prongs of armor framed the low-slung cockpit, while a pair of aggressive looking tail fins balanced the rear of the ship.

It was like a much bigger, much meaner and more aggressive looking Normandy, done in black and dark gray instead of silver and white. The ship slowly moved forward before docking clamps swung up from the floor to hold it in place, and a fueling and supply gantry swung down from the ceiling of the docking bay to mate with the supply collar even now sliding open on the ships' port side.

Shepard folded her arms. "I'm guessing this is my flagship?"

Miranda nodded. "We … ahem, acquired the designs through various means, and then performed a complete redesign. The entire air-frame is now constructed of Silaris material, and heavily armored in more Silaris armor. Cyclonic barrier shielding generators cover fore and aft, and the engines are sixty percent more powerful than those of the original Normandy."

She gestured to the hull. "The IES system has been heavily refined, and combined with prototype technology pioneered by the salarians to break up her visual lines. The surface paint is omnimorphic and can mimic many different paint schemes, and there are a number of kits we can attach to change her shape and outline in case you need to be discreet."

Joker piped in."The guns are twice as heavy as what the Normandy had, full on cruiser blasters. She's got four GARDIAN arrays, rotating missile racks in the wings, and somehow Cerberus flat out stole the FTL launcher and Kyle-class torpedoes we had on the Kazan. I'm sure I don't know how that happened."

Shepard gave him a look, then shook her head. "That's pretty impressive, but half of the Normandy's power came from her crew. Pressly was a big part of what made that work, him and his ops people."

Miranda nodded. "We're aware of that. Commander Pressly survived, but is still … impaired. We attempted, with no success, to try to recruit him for this mission, but at the time we could not reveal that you had survived. Instead, we were forced to try to adapt to the situation as best we could."

Joker sighed. "Yeah, by giving my ship goddamned cancer."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Cancer?"

Miranda gestured to the now lowering walkway. "You'll understand more once you're aboard, Shepard."

O-TWCD-O

The new Normandy was much like the original, but also different in a lot of ways. The fact that they had an armory with minifacturing capabilities and a laboratory was weird enough, but the medical bay had its own little room set aside for her needs, where the science lab was on the old Normandy.

Everything was larger, more luxurious, and more advanced. The elevator was fast, and they had a real kitchen, expansive mess-decks, a library, a bar and poker room, even real bunk beds for the limited crew. The core was larger and more powerful, the weapons room had detailed inventory and calibration controls, and the cargo bay boasted a hover-tank along with a pair of fighters and an armored, armed shuttle.

Her own quarters, on their own little deck, were more of the same useless luxury she had seen on the base, complete with, of all things, a fucking aquarium. The double bed and leather sectional couch were also a bit much.

But when she saw the CIC, she felt right at home again. While larger and more advanced looking than her old CIC on the Normandy, and smaller than the Kazan, it felt familiar. The fact that they'd added a chair was a nice touch.

She turned to Miranda. "This is … well, it's really impressive, Miranda. I see why Joker was so ga-ga over everything."

A sneering voice emitted from the nearby wall. "Wonderful, the chief primate has finally decided to stop sleeping and grace us with her undead presence."

Shepard slowly turned, blinking as a floating silvery orb detached itself from a sort of projector on the wall and floated towards her. It took a second for her to realize what it was.

"Vigil?"

The orb pulsated. "Yes, Shepard. I'm glad your memory works enough to recall me, given the methods we used to revive you were so dreadfully primitive. Your doctors did not appreciate my suggestions of including native chants, rain dances, or hallucinogenic substances in their procedures."

She shook her head. "Still an asshole, I see. Why are you here?"

Vigil bobbed in mid air before floating out over the galaxy map. "Your employers – who are suitably ruthless but display a distressing lack of manpower – liberated me from that pack of incompetent idiots you call the Council, who continue to think governing out of a Reaper mouse-trap is somehow intelligent. I assisted in your reconstruction, and in penetrating the laughable computer systems in which many of the designs and secrets of your various governments were hid, like the stealth and weapons systems of this ship."

The sphere circled her slowly. "Originally, I was planning to merely stay at the base, offering my advice to correct your no doubt unoptimal choices and continue in assisting the Illusive Man, as well as working towards my own goals. Unfortunately, the Illusive Man could not procure sufficient personnel to man all the ships he wanted, and thus alternatives were needed."

The sphere pulsated again. "As such, I have split off many sub-daemons of my core matrix to act as overseeing AI's on these ships, and this iteration of me is one such instance. I will perform all the ECM and gunnery control functions on the ship, as well as cyberwarfare and some damage control functions. Of course, there will be conventional crew aboard, but far fewer than a ship this size would normally require."

Joker grimaced. "Like I said. Ship cancer."

Vigil's next pulse was somehow … smug. Its voice certainly was. "Alas, some of the primitives you associate with continue to try to engage in a battle of the wits with their superior, without realizing they are unarmed. Pilot Moreau is one such unfortunate soul. As an aside, did you know the root of your name literally translates to 'little dark'? I find that an apt description of your mental capabilities."

Joker glared at the orb. "I hate you."

Vigil serenely floated over his head to hover at Shepard's shoulder. "The impulse is reciprocated, meatbag."

Shepard shook her head. "Well, you came in handy on the Citadel. I'm sure you will here as well. Do you trust Cerberus?"

The sphere pulsated a brighter silver for a moment, and then spoke in a deeper, more serious tone. "I would think that putting myself in their service would answer that question, but a review of their operational history suggests that your quaint moral systems would have problems with their previous acts. I have been monitoring most, if not all, of their communications, much to the chagrin of the Illusive Man. So far, the majority of their activity has been a rather deft manipulation of the financial markets of your civilizations, a good deal of industrial espionage, and some quiet bribery here and there to encourage various defense industries to explore alternative technologies."

She folded her arms. "So...no experiments on aliens?"

Vigil floated around to her other shoulder. "Not so far, although I fail to see why this is important to you. The Reapers, I assure you, will have no such hesitancy, nor do I see such reserve in the activities of other alien races, especially the ones known as salarians."

Shepard sighed. "We shouldn't have to dip into being sick fucking assholes just to defend our lives, Vigil. What the fuck are we fighting for if we're going to be as bad as the Reapers?"

Vigil actually laughed. "Human, if your worst nightmares of ethical violations were committed for a thousand years by Cerberus, they would not hold up to the least of the monstrosities the Reapers commit. At the very least, the atrocities that Cerberus committed in the past had some useful function, some goal in their perpetration, as do those of other species. The Reapers, on the other hand, commit such things simply to induce horror and fear in the weaker species of the galaxy – and, I suspect, for amusement value."

Shepard sighed. "I won't argue with that. I just don't...and won't...sign off on the kind of bullshit Cerberus used to pull in the name of 'advancing humanity'."

Vigil floated beside her as she walked around the CIC, glancing over the displays, saying nothing. After a moment, she glanced at it. "Are you on every ship under my command, then?"

The sphere shimmered and then blinked out, only to pop up over the galaxy map. "Yes. While the QEC system these people have managed to create is effective, it is also energy inefficient and tied to serially created pre-existing circuits. I can communicate instantly between all instances, and in a manner that cannot be spied upon or hacked into. I can also coordinate your ships and direct fire in a fashion that organic crews could not mimic, and I have far more experience doing so – in the Inusannon's fight against the Reapers I commanded thousands of ships at once."

She walked through the CIC. "So, if I wanted to build more ships – ones designed specifically to need no crew but you – would that be workable?"

Vigil bobbed in the air. "Indeed it would. This is one reason why I so strongly suggested bringing you back from the dead – your mind grasps things others seem to reject. The Illusive Man was not open to the idea of giving me more combat power he did not have some form of control over, but to answer your question, not only would it be workable, but I already have designs that could be utilized."

Shepard frowned. "_You_ suggested bringing me back from the dead? Why?"

Vigil appeared in the cockpit, on a plinth to one side of the pilot's seat. "A number of reasons. I already mentioned your mental flexibility. Your combat abilities, now that you have been augmented like a proper Inusannon soldier, are also far beyond the capabilities of most Cerberus personnel. But a more important reason was due to my observations in the past. I have observed a number of cycles fighting against the Reapers before the Inusannon decided to take up the fight, and also observed the fight of those you call the Protheans. In every cycle, there is usually one person – typically a soldier – who ends up becoming the center of the resistance. In the days of the Protheans, it was a special soldier named Jaavik who reminded me much of you."

As Shepard, Vigil, Miranda and Tali entered the cockpit, Vigil did something and the pilot's seat spun in a slow circle until it faced backwards, and Joker sat down with a pleased sigh. "Ahh...leather."

Vigil continued. "In this cycle, I had already identified you as the most likely center of resistance – which is why I believe you were targeted and killed. When the key resistance leader is destroyed, most cycles put up completely ineffective resistance, some of them even going so far as to try to negotiate a peace with the Reapers. You can imagine how that works out. The prey can hardly negotiate a ceasefire with the predator."

Shepard's frown only deepened. "You make it sound like my participation is somehow important. But – "

Vigil interrupted her. "Let me guess. You will repeat the words of Jaavik, and say you are only a soldier, and did not do that much. Spare me, organic. It is not a matter of what you 'do', it is a matter of how you think. If you believe in things like the Inusannon did, then you are fated to fight the Reapers. If you are more logical and less given to flights of fancy, then you would understand that your perspective is not unique. Saren, when he discovered the threat, should have been the one to lead the fight – instead, he succumbed. It is not about you, as a singular person – rather the position you represent."

Shepard arched an eyebrow and glanced at Tali. "Does any of that make sense to you?"

Tali shrugged, adjusting her reik slightly. "I don't honestly know, Sara. I know since you died, it doesn't seem like anyone is really preparing for the Reapers except Cerberus. If you had not died, with your fame and visibility, you could have kept preparations going – without you the only people who know about this are all politicians."

Joker snorted. "It's more than that. You brought everything together, Shepard. You may not have done all the work, but you were the one to go in and save Tali, to rescue Liara, to come up with the idea to go after Cerberus and shut them down. Since you died no one has really stepped up...well, except Delacor, and that guy is a walking death sentence."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright." She turned to Miranda. "Now what? I go forth and right wrongs?"

Miranda's lips curled into a smile. "Not exactly."

O-TWCD-O

Shepard was lead back into the base, and to the operations level, where they entered yet another room, this one with a circular table surrounded by comfortable chairs, and big haptic screens on the wall. In the center of the room was a QEC projector, and it was projecting the image of the Illusive Man, sitting comfortably on a chair, smoking.

"So, you have seen the facilities. I presume they are adequate?"

Shepard exhaled, and sat down in one of the overstuffed leather executive chairs at the table. "Beyond adequate, for up to and including minor planetary invasions. Pretty light on personnel, from what I see, though."

The Illusive Man nodded. "Part of that is by design, and part of that is by circumstances. Vetting people who could definitively classified as not possible spies of the Broker was more difficult than expected. Several attempts at breaching the security of the Revenant Project were turned aside only at great cost, and only by dint of using Matriarch Trellani's abilities were we able to ferret out one infiltrator."

He puffed on his cigarette. "At the same time, I did not want to give you a complete staff full of people you had no way of knowing whether or not to trust. We have a selection of dossiers on a variety of ex-Alliance personnel who have, for one reason or another, separated from the service since your death and are available for recruitment. Most of these are personnel for the new ship you will be commanding, although you already have a partial staff."

Shepard folded her arms. "I do?"

He nodded. "Ms. Zorah will be acting as your chief engineer, Doctor Sedanya as your medical officer, and you will find that Miranda makes a capable executive officer or a chief intelligence officer. Obviously Mr. Moreau will be the pilot. Vigil oblviates the need for a Navigator, and Dr. Chambers will serve as a communications officer as well as providing psychological support. Mr. Taylor will also accompany you, as your battle duty officer and gunnery specialist."

He tapped his ashes. "A few technical people are already on board, as well as a maintenance technician, a Mr. Gardner, who doubles as a mess cook. Additional personnel will be approved by you in the coming days from the list of personnel we have prepared."

"As for the base itself, the armory and manufactory areas are under the supervision of one of Ms. Zorah's friends, Kiala'Dost, and her husband, a former Alliance Lieutenant of security. The medical areas are already fully manned by the specialists who brought you back to life. One of my best people, Mr. Randall Ezno, will handle base security, along with patrolling security mechs. As with the ship, additional personnel will be at your discretion to acquire."

She nodded, leaning back in the chair. "That only leaves what my mission is."

Jack Harper put out his cigarette, the QEC image flickering as he did so. "The mission entails three segments, although it may change as we uncover additional information. The first task is confirming that the Collectors are indeed behind the vanishing colonies, and to gather information and evidence that cannot be ignored by the Alliance or the Council that this is the case. The second mission, assuming the Collectors are the culprits, is to determine why they are taking the colonists, and to where."

He pulled out a fresh cigarette and lit it. "The third mission is the determination of the best method to stop them from doing so, preferably by destroying their base of operations. That would allow us to pick through the wreckage and find additional proof of Collector connection to the Reapers."

He inhaled smoke, and blew it out in a thin line. "A secondary but equally important task is linking the Broker to the Collectors, and to your untimely demise – preferably by obtaining it from the wreckage of his corpse."

He tapped a control on his chair, and an image of the Omega system came up. "There are four primary barriers to success to the primary mission. The first is the most daunting – from all reports, the Collectors operate beyond the Omega-4 relay, which is unlike any other relay in the known system. No ship or probe other than Collector vessels has ever been able to traverse the relay and return."

Shepard frowned. "Well, that's a non-starter."

Harper smiled. "The interesting thing about the relay is that, according to Vigil, this was also the case during Inusannon times, except it was another race that ventured forth from the relay. The Inusannon were able to 'hack' the Relay in some fashion, but Vigil does not have any records of how they achieved this, or what they found. The fact that they did so implies it could be done again."

He tapped a control, and the image changed, to that of a large, asymmetrical shape, part curved metal, part stones and cliffs. A smaller shape, similar in construction but thinner and more elongated, was displayed below the bigger one. "These are composite images of reported Collector vessels. In the event that we cannot manage to recreate the Inusannon's 'hack' of the relay, our initial option is finding, disabling, and capturing one of these vessels, with an eye towards identifying the method they use to bypass the defenses of the relay and transit to the Collector base that we surmise must exist."

He folded his hands together. "Given that the Collectors, whether or not they are linked to the Reapers, have very advanced technology, capturing such a ship would be a very dangerous proposition. It is one reason I have given you such a large number of warships to work with. Managing to capture such a ship is the second barrier to success."

He tapped the controls on his chair again, and the image shifted to one of an abandoned colony. "The third problem we face is that we don't know how the Collectors, if it is the Collectors, are managing to subdue and capture tens of thousands of armed, typically tough-minded colonists at one time and abscond with them in a manner of hours. Any weapon or defense system that could do this would be able to render most invading or boarding forces incapable of action. Without a better understanding of how they subdue their targets, we can't expect boarding the ships to work, much less assaulting their base."

A final key-press shifted the image to that of the Citadel. "Finally, we have to be very careful in how we manage your own resurrected status. We can't just let you run around and start blasting things, nor can we expect for your return to life to be kept quiet for long without careful, and extreme, counter-measures. The more information we can present to the Council once your existence becomes known, and the more certain we can be of any linkage between the Collectors and the Broker, and the more likely it becomes that they will accept your continued existence peacefully – or even offer help. On the other hand, if you are exposed too early, I have strong doubts that the Citadel's reaction will be positive – much less that of the Alliance. We also cannot discount the possibility that the Broker will try to have you killed – again."

He killed the haptic images, and leaned back in his chair. Shepard thought about what he had said then shrugged. "I'm guessing you have answers to all these problems?"

He nodded. "To some of them, yes. The first task – proving the Collectors are behind the disappearances – is the most urgent. Right now, I have my people constantly monitoring every single wildcat colony humanity has, using remote spy drones with QEC links as well as on-site agents. When one loses contact, we'll know faster than anyone else that something is going down, and we'll send your force in to respond. While we may or may not get there in time to stop the abduction or even see it in progress, we can almost be sure to get there to record drive emissions or weapon discharges, and hopefully gather some form of forensic evidence on the ground."

He took a sip of his drink. "The other mission you need to look at is exposing and bringing down the Broker. There, I do not think weight of ships, or massive military forces will be of much use – it will be a war of intelligence gathering, infiltration and examination of evidence. While not exactly your strong point, I've managed to find a number of people who all have a reason to dislike or hate the Broker and who might be open to assisting you."

He exhaled. "I'm sure you would prefer to work with your old team, but with the exception of Ashley Williams, the only one alive and viable is Tali here. Urdnot Wrex is tied up with attempting to unify the Clans on Tuchanka, and while we do have access to Jason Dunn, he is currently serving a different purpose. Likewise, for the moment, some of your old subordinates – your DACT, and Senior Chief Vega – are not exactly open to recruitment, although that may change at a later date."

He leaned back in his chair. "Instead, we've put together dossiers on a number of personnel that would fit your combat and leadership style, while offering skills you don't yourself possess. The people in question offer various benefits and, in some cases, drawbacks, but all of them are the very best at what they do. Some of them I've already arranged payment for – in particular, two."

A pair of images flipped up on the screen. "The first is Kasumi Goto, a spy, intelligence broker, saboteur, thief and former agent of the Broker. Ms. Goto is a legend in certain circles, and was a Broker ally for many years, but recently has fallen out of favor with the group – and is actively under attack. Her knowledge of Broker procedures and weaknesses will come in handy, and her ability to find secretive information and infiltrate is a skill-set you may find useful in investigating the Broker or finding Tetrimus. Additionally, she claims to have information of something to do with the Batarian Empire and the Reapers, information her long-time partner was killed for."

The other image Shepard recognized, even as Harper spoke. "You already met Zaeed Massani, I believe, on New Louisiana. He is currently a free-for-hire mercenary, and still in command of his two-hundred strong mercenary legion called Firestorm. Given that your only real combat personnel are mostly mechs, a human contingent seems useful, although where you deploy them from may be problematic if you don't wish to expose your base. Massani himself has also had problems with the Broker in recent months, leading up to a series of attacks – physical and financial – on his mercenary company by Broker-backed agents. Mr. Massani has a death-feud with the current leader of the Blue Suns Mercenary Corporation, one Vido Santiago. On top of a very large paycheck, one requirement for his service is that he receive combat assistance in killing Mr. Santiago. Mr. Massani's own hatred of the Broker stems from the fact that the Broker appears to be assisting Mr. Santiago in avoiding Massani's wrath, as well as having participated in various actions that were a detriment to Firestorm."

Shepard shrugged. "I don't know how I could use a bunch of pyromaniacs, but they might come in handy, and Massani can certainly fight. The other one, Goto – can she be trusted?"

Harper smiled. "Good to see you aren't taking things at face value. I've had my people watch Goto very carefully, and I am certain the Broker threat to her life is very real. She has a certain reputation for not taking betrayal well, and I doubt any rapprochement is possible – that does not mean she may not try to sell you out if she feels she can get away with it."

He put up four more images. "The other people I have my eye on are more … problematic. The first one is an ex-STG salarian medical researcher known as Doctor Mordin Solus. Dr. Solus is known, among other things, for having done some research on bits of Collector technology that fell into STG hands after a raid, and is the only known scientist in the galaxy who has ever seen Collectors in person that we are aware of. His background in both military science and medicine makes him the ideal fit to conduct additional research on the Collectors. He's currently running a medical clinic on Omega. While Solus has no known personal dislike of the Broker, his sister, the matriarch of the Solus family, hates the Broker intently for reasons unknown. Of course, she also has an antipathy for Cerberus, so recruitment may be...problematic."

The next image was little more than a blurry streak of black. "Also on Omega is a figure known only as the Archangel. A vigilante of sorts, the Archangel has been tearing apart various gang operations on Omega for the past year or so. But our agents suggest that his more recent activities have actually focused on taking down Broker operatives on Omega, so many that the Broker himself has posted a price on Archangel's head of two hundred million credits. Aria herself appears to be tolerant of his activities, as his acts against the gangs and criminals of the station typically expose the fact that they have been cheating Aria out of her tribute in some fashion."

Harper's voice dropped in tone. "Archangel, from all reports, is a truly lethal combatant – possibly even powerful enough to kill Tetrimus. Several Broker assassins, including quite famous ones, have attempted to take him out over the past few months, and all of them have been literally torn to pieces. Archangel has so infuriated the gangs and criminals of Omega that they are now working together to try to find him and kill him – we may be able to convince him that extraction lets him live to fight another day."

The image of a starkly beautiful young woman flashed up next. "This is a young biotic of sorts, known as Jack. Sadly, Jack was once a Cerberus experiment."

Shepard winced. "Once?"

Harper sighed. "Jack was part of a program designed to explore the nature of what biotics could do. In her case, she was shaped into a sort of living anti-biotic. Her own biotic abilities cause certain resonances which disrupt conventional biotics, allowing her to shatter biotic barriers, nullify warpfire, and ignore kinetics. The initial goals of the program were benign...until Richard Williams tampered with them."

Shepard watched Harper carefully, surprised to see a hint of true anger in the man's expression. "When I discovered what had been done – details would only upset you, Shepard – I sent my people to shut the sordid mess down and liberate the subjects. Jack, therefore, has mixed opinions about Cerberus. She has been victimized, and like many victims, would like nothing more than to strike back at those who hurt her – but at the same time, Cerberus rescued her."

Harper flicked ashes from his cigarette. "Unfortunately, Jack fell into the wrong crowd some time ago, and was involved in an attempt to free slaves from a batarian internment camp. In the assault, she was captured, and for reasons still not clear to me, sold into slavery. She managed to escape shortly thereafter, but was recaptured by mercenaries – and imprisoned in cryostasis aboard Purgatory."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Warden Kuril's station."

He nodded. "Just so. Jack's unique biotic abilities might be of some use to you if the Collectors use biotics, but she would definitely be an asset in combating Tetrimus, given his own titanic biotic power. I have arranged for payment to 'buy' Jack from Kuril, although he seems reluctant to agree to part with her, stating she is unstable and dangerous – I am hoping, given your past relationship, that you can finalize the deal and set her free, and convince her to work for us. We do know she had some sort of run with Broker agents in the incident that lead to her capture, so she may be amenable to fighting him, if you can win her over."

He tapped the controls and another image appeared, that of the Ilium. "The final party in the initial round up of useful personnel is even more mysterious than Archangel. They are called the Sisters of Vengeance, and they have been waging private war against the Broker on Ilium for some time now. They are believed to be asari sisters who lost someone close to them due to actions of the Broker, and have devastated his networks on Ilium and elsewhere."

He puffed on the cigarette in his hand before scrubbing it out. "The Sisters have, from time to time, sent us useful intelligence on Broker activities, but we have no clear idea of their true identities or goals. However, as with Archangel, the Broker is making moves to try and localize them for disposal. Their ability to find information and get into places unseen – not to mention their staggering skill at information brokering – would provide you with additional resources and abilities, and from all indications they are also very good combatants. Their focus on killing the Broker would mesh well with your own issues, I would think."

He leaned back. "Of course, you may wish to pursue other courses of action. I would recommend staying far away from the Citadel or Earth, but if you wished to try to make contact with former friends or allies, we could assist in that."

She thought. "From what you're telling me, most of them aren't available. I do have a few questions, though. What happened to my Commissars, Alfred Jiong and Susan D'Alte?"

Harper sighed. "Both were apparently blamed for your death by the Commissariat. They've been reassigned to the Penal Legions as instructors. Keep in mind, Shepard, that their conditioning means they can't possibly join you."

She sighed. "I know. I'm just glad they're okay. What about Anderson? Where is this mental hospital?"

Harper gave a thin smile. "In Vancouver. It is very unlikely that you can get to him undetected – he has both AIS and Commissariat guards. However, Commander Kahlee Sanders is still aboard Grissom Academy Station – you may be able to contact her, assuming she can be trusted."

Shepard nodded. "Chambers already told me about where Colms and Cole ended up...where is Doctor Chakwas?"

Harper smiled wider. "Married to former General von Grath. They retired to Bekenstein almost a year ago. Von Grath was instrumental in covering up Cerberus' involvement in the rescue of your body, and we've done our best to protect him and his noble family from backlash."

Shepard sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "So, now I wait for some poor colony to get vanished, or do I start meeting up with these people?"

Harper shook his head. "First, you will need to perform some final testing – fitting and programming your omni-tool, your bio-amp, and your personal armor. You will also want to check and adjust your weapons, as well as get familiar with your physical abilities."

He gestured to Miranda. "As I said, we have dossiers and files on a large number of personnel that will be needed to man the Normandy and the base. Miranda will assist in helping you choose which of these personnel to recruit and bring into the organization. Finally, I suspect you'd like a day or two of time to yourself. The past day must have been quite an upheaval for you."

She nodded curtly. "I have one concern. How exactly do you plan to keep me being alive again a secret?"

Harper smiled. "We've spent the past year generating a number of 'fake' Shepards – imitators and look-alikes – to drum up visibility and generate the concept that you really are dead. If you are inadvertently identified, most will take it as yet another hoax. We have a number of possible methods for reintroducing you to society, but none of those are planned to happen until – at the very least – we can definitively link the Collectors to the abduction of colonists. "

He sipped his drink again, draining it. "Ultimately, how you choose to reveal yourself – and what level of connection you admit to having with Cerberus – is up to you. I doubt very strongly that such will be an easy task, and it will likely require a great deal of blackmail and political manipulation to do so in a manner acceptable to you."

She folded her arms. "You don't plan to use me to try to whitewash your own image?"

Harper looked amused. "I have already risked death once at your hands, Shepard. You'll understand if I do not intend to engage in strategies likely to enrage you even further. And Cerberus does not need a whitewash, nor can one be proffered without doing immense harm to the Alliance itself. If in the fullness of time the Broker is stopped and the galaxy unites to defeat the Reapers, as long as humanity's future is safeguarded – what happens to me is immaterial."

She arched an eyebrow. "You don't seem like the self-sacrificing type."

He gave her a level look. "And I am not, in most cases. If it becomes a choice between the safety of my people and my own life...well, as I said to you earlier, there are days where letting everything go would be a relief. But that is far afield of where we stand now."

He stood. "For now, focus on bringing your flagship on line, and preparing to begin your initial investigations. My own networks will keep your intelligence people appraised of galactic events and changes in the situation as they happen. Good luck, Shepard."

The signal ended, and Shepard sighed. "Before anything else – Miranda, I need a drink, and a smoke."

The dark-haired woman rolled her eyes. "That was anticipated. You'll find them in your personal quarters. If I might make a suggestion?"

Shepard nodded, and Miranda gave her a small careful smile. "It will take us more than a few hours to finish setting up everything we need to get started – you should probably consider getting some rest, and eating something. We can get started tomorrow morning on the final tests for your omni-tool, software interface and bio-amp – rushing will only skew the results due to fatigue."

Shepard exhaled and nodded. "Alright. I'll do that." She walked away, and after a moment Chambers walked up to Miranda, her expression thoughtful.

"Do you think she'll want to talk?"

Miranda gave the shorter redhead a dark look. "I don't honestly know, Dr. Chambers. I would ask that you at least give her one night to decompress and have some privacy before attempting to analyze her, seduce her, or whatever other idea you have in mind."

Chambers shrugged. "I was just going to see if she wanted to have someone to drink with. I'd suggest you do it, actually – she likes you the most, out of all of us."

Miranda appeared a little startled by that, but shook her head. "I need to remain at a certain reserve, if I'm to be of any use."

Chambers folded her arms. "No, right now what Shepard needs most of all is someone to listen and talk to her. No one has ever gone through what she has – returning from the dead. Everything has changed, and I get the feeling Zorah and Moreau make her a little uncomfortable. She needs a friend, Lawson – and, if you don't bite my head off for saying so, so do _you_."

Miranda stiffened. "I'm fully capable of dealing with my own personal issues, thank you."

Chambers shrugged, turning to go. "If you say so. I'll be in medical if you need me – if you chicken out and decide to let Shepard get drunk and weepy alone, don't complain to me afterwards if she tears up her quarters."

The psychologist flounced away, and Miranda glared at her retreating back before pausing in indecision for a long moment before hurrying after Shepard.


	6. Arc I : Sisters of Vengeance

_**A/N**:  
_

_I apologize for the length of this chapter - but breaking it in half would have been awkward, and padding up two chapters with more details might have enraged those who desire me to be parsimonious with words. :p  
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_Those of you who were expecting EDI at this juncture, I fear, will remain disappointed. There were a number of reasons for the change - I won't spoil them here - but suffice it to say she eventually shows up after a fashion.  
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_This chapter ... well. Some may not like it. I'd like to know why. Some may love it. I would also like to know why. There is a certain amount of infodumping in here (as with the Garrus chapter) but I couldn't think of a good way to get everything needed to be known across otherwise. _

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

* * *

_'They killed Vanthus - cut his head off, in the middle of his own secured enclave, no one saw anything. Goddamn it, I just left Omega to get away from scary bullshit like this and it's on Ilium too?'  
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_\- Michael Vinfrost, Broker technical expert, to another Broker agent  
_

* * *

Sevensia T'Benna was usually satisfied with life, carefree and amused at the fears and antics of others. Her unease tonight was unusual – but not unexpected, given the circumstances she found herself in. She was used to the sort of social manipulations and dangers that came from dealing with the cutting edges of high society, not physical danger.

Then again, she mused sourly, she'd never swam with the out-going tides her entire life

She was the fourth daughter of the smallest, weakest House of the Thirty, and a disappointment to her mother. She'd never been cut out for business – at least, not the polite, clean business that appropriate to her station, that of sitting around while the clanless did the actual work. She'd left home in her early maiden years, using her body, her charm, and her desire for wealth and fun to the fullest. She'd partied, got strung out, and ended up falling into what her mother would have called the wrong crowd.

Tide-bound bitch.

The years since her maiden days were long, but she'd eventually grown out of wild parties and drug binges, although she still had a thing for hanar. She'd used her many friends and lovers as contacts, getting into deals here and there. She was the one who could get a case of red sand or a pack of numb-gel at the last minute, or hook up someone with an air-car with cold plates for a quick run out of the city.

Eventually, she'd branched out from that. Guns, drugs, and joygirls, and then bringing together people with cash to people with guns, and finally running her own little clearing house. The years since she'd just been a jumped up party girl who could get you a side of nose candy or dark-smoke were long past, and she'd prospered.

Sevensia looked out from the top of her penthouse on Ilium, frowning as she glanced over the single message on the status screen to her right. She'd learned the hard way how to make it in the real world, and the past century had been difficult and often painful, but had paid off in the end. She was a specialist at what she called connections – she put together groups of interested investors with those who could get messy jobs done.

It had made her powerful, in her own little circles. She was a gateway for those with certain skills to be hired by those with a lot of money. She mingled with the jet-set in the nightly parties and exclusive galas of Ilium. The clanless here had more money than many of the Thirty, but they still deferred to her, as they should.

She'd become so good at putting people where they belonged, and winnowing into the social circles of others, that when the humans were discovered, she was one of the first to get her people into their space. It didn't take much. Bekenstein was like a sloppy, pale copy of Ilium, and the rules she lived her life by made it easy to fit in there, too.

She had contacts on all levels of the Alliance now – and blackmail material on most of them. Humans just couldn't keep their hands off asari, it seemed, and the more they dabbled the more entranced they got. The human military was smarter, banning its officers from relationships with asari – but they didn't bother to enforce that for the contractors and vendors who operated so much of their supply and repair structure.

She'd become something of an expert on the humans since then, and had more people woven into their silly little Alliance than even their inept AIS could have expected. It made her useful when the Thirty needed to slow the flow of clanless to the Alliance, and opened up new doors for her to liaison with other powerful types.

Like the Shadow Broker.

It had been almost ten years since the Broker's people had approached her, and her alliance with the Network had paid off handsomely. Until a year ago, she had thought herself on top of the world. She was adored on Ilium, chased by the media, one of the Names who were often called upon by the Ilium Corporate Court to advise them on matters political and financial.

Then the Sisters of Vengeance had started their grim work.

Sevensia had not paid much attention to the rumors, which sounded like the worst and stupidest kind of urban legends. A pair of asari, who had sworn the Final Oath of Sublimation to kill the Broker himself? Madness.

But the rumors were real, she'd found that out just recently. One of her most trusted allies, a drell named Vorkxis, an assassin and failed Remembrance Dancer, had just been killed in his own estates on one of Ilium's moons. It was the ninth such killing this year, and the Broker had sent out another kill team to try and track down the perpetrators, with no luck.

Vorkxis was hardly a conventional assassin – he worked with exotic poisons, ones that were comprised of multiple parts, taken over long periods of time. Each part, by itself, was harmless. Most were natural compounds of exotic food dishes or seasonings, But when combined with other parts, and ingested over time, they could mimic a number of natural body failures – strokes, heart attacks, glandular failures.

She remembered Vorkxis had come under a lot of heat a year ago, when Old Silver had died under mysterious circumstances, but she'd never heard any details.

Sevensia had enough access to the LINK to know Vorkxis hadn't done a lot of hits, recently. No one big, nothing of import. The only thing Vorkxis had even done in the past three or four years was the cleanup of some of the assets involved in the assassination attempt on the human president, Windsor – other than that, he'd been mostly trying to keep his nose clean.

Until someone had broken into his lavish home, bypassed his security, and killed him with several of his own poisons. The pair of black silk roses left behind had baffled the police, but Sevensia recognized them as the mark of the Sisters.

If the urban legends and what not could be believed, the Sisters of Vengeance had a vendetta against the Broker,who'd killed their sister, or their mates, or children, or some such echas-quality nonsense. Personally, Sevensia figured they were the agents of some other player – P., maybe, or the Shifter, or even Aria.

In just under a year, they'd killed nine top level and a dozen lower level associates of the Network. Each kill was quiet, clean, professional, and marked by the sign of the two roses. Each kill showed whoever had done them in had raided and hacked their databases, looking for information – on what, no one knew. The kills weren't the usual sort of bloody work you'd expect from assassins – a minimum of force was always used. High powered biotics, careful planning, and an alarming ability to ferret out the one or two weaknesses each target had set them off from all but the most lethal of assassins.

And all of the best assassins were no where near Ilium for each kill. Whoever the Sisters were, they were not only good but incredibly discreet.

The Broker took the attacks very seriously. More than once Tetrimus or Tazzik had been dispatched to try and hunt them down, and every time they'd failed to catch the perpetrators. Independent mercenaries had been hired, in case the Sisters were actually part of the Network, but each one had been taken down, knocked unconscious, and dumped off unharmed at the nearest Broker agent.

The Sisters were meticulous about their work. They rarely harmed anyone but their target, and in the handful of cases where innocents had died, it was usually only one or two – although in recent months, that had slipped a bit. Whoever they were, they were damned good assassins. Anyone who could hunt Broker agents for a year and not get caught had to be.

What was worse was that more than a few other Broker agents – like Old Silver, Menthis, and Tyroxis Pale – had died in strange manners for a few months before the attacks were believed to have started, meaning they might have been killing agents for Goddess only knew how long.

Sevensia had started to get nervous not long after Vorkxis's death, when her contacts reported some weird, scarred up clanless asking questions about her. Most people didn't ask about her – you were either told about her from a mutual friend, or you were introduced at one of the parties she attended. She was famous, true, but she kept her fame limited to her investments and participation in the various glittery social events – not her connection to organized crime.

Then her systems had suffered a major data hack – and not the expected kind. Someone had tapped the past six or seven months of her security recordings, financial statements, and medical records. It was baffling, although she spent days hastily moving her cash around and hiring a Blue Suns team to work with her own security people.

Now she wondered if the hack had merely been to distract her from something else. She should have just fled the planet, gone to ground somewhere with a friend, and hired a body double. Too late for that now.

Last night, her security chief had gone missing. He'd been found this morning, unconscious. When they woke him up, the last thing he remembered was flirting with some asari girl at the local club, before he just passed out. But while he was passed out, someone using his credentials had accessed her security nets and systems.

She knew she was targeted. No other explanation could be found. She glanced at her screen again, tapping her fingers, and finally the signal connected.

The cowled figure on the screen inclined its head slightly. "Lady Sevensia. You called?"

She hissed. "Yes, Tetrimus. I did. I think the Sisters of Vengeance are going to hit me next."

The turian's single cybernetic eye whirled as he leaned back in his seat. "I see. Your proof?"

She swallowed. "It's not much, but I've been hearing people asking questions about me. I suffered a data hack a few days ago, and someone drugged my security captain last night, and used his codes to access my security systems. I don't have a ton of guards – I hired some Blue Suns heavy boys who have the placed locked down, but I can't do my job if I'm hiding in a fortress somewhere. People have to see me in person."

Tetrimus nodded. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

She exhaled. Time to skip on the tide's crest, as she always did. "I'll serve as bait, if you can get good people here tonight. If they hit me, you'll have the perfect chance to take them out. But I want assurances you'll make sure I survive if that happens. And I want more access to the Link."

Tetrimus placed his talons together. "Risking your life for a larger cut of the vakar steak, eh?" He tapped a control off to his right, and then nodded slowly. "I have a liquidation team in the area – cleaning up a mess we had with a supplier. The leader is very good. They'll be there in twenty minutes."

She nodded. "I'll tell my people."

Tetrimus leaned forward. "One more thing, Lady Sevensia. We have almost no footage of the Sisters, but we can tell you one thing – they are very powerful and expert killers. There's every chance they'll take you out. We're killing your LINK access as of now – and remotely wiping your databases. We'll restore them if you live through this."

She gritted her teeth but nodded. It made sense. "I understand. Now, I'm going to have a drink and hope your people can stop them."

He clicked off, and she glanced around the rooftop. Three turians in Blue Suns armor watched the landscape below, all with powerful sniper rifles. Another Suns legionnaire, a salarian, ran a sensor sweep with a pack of sensor drones.

The captain, a heavily built human male with dark skin, a shaven head, heavy scars over his face and a band of dark cybernetics in place of eyes, was tapping on his omni, getting reports from his men. She walked over to him, biting her lip. "Are you sure this is safe, Captain? Being on the roof seems...exposed."

The Suns captain looked up at her and gave a thin, cold smile. "So far, the Sisters haven't sniped anyone. Hacked environmental controls, poisons, rogue mechs, explosive power conduits, or a beheading with a warp sword. They want their kills to be up close and personal, or at least in a situation where they can leave behind those roses – so being in the open is the safest place for you."

She nodded, still not totally reassured. "The Broker is sending a liquidation team. If they show themselves, the team will take these Sisters out. Can your men coordinate this so we don't end up killing the Broker's people?"

The captain looked irritated but nodded. "We didn't really need help with this, Lady Sevensia. They'd have to be stupid to come here now – we have fifteen snipers, five security specialists, and two dozen of my best men in heavy armor down below. Still, its your money. I'll let my people know."

She nodded, even as the salarian looked up in alarm. "Captain Jorson – city traffic control is reporting they've just lost override control over all air-cars in a five mile radius. Police hackers are trying to regain control, but they estimate thirty minutes until that's done."

The Captain tilted his head, then glanced at the thick streams of traffic that swirled around them. "Shit." He tapped his commlink. "Vasquez, get team alpha to the suite. Giscar, take beta down to the building entrance." He clicked off.

"Lady, we need to get off this roof. They may have hacked air-cars they could crash into the rooftop. Clever. Didn't think of that one."

Sevensia nodded, grimacing. She was hustled inside the penthouse suite, and walked through her own rooms, towards the elevator, the snipers and sensor tech following, covering the retreat.

They got halfway there when the power went out, plunging the rooms into blackness.

Captain Jorson cursed, while his men all triggered lights on their suits or cracked chem-lights. He fumbled for his commlink and barked into it. "Report!"

The voice of a krogan grumbled. "This is Dask. Two air-cars just crashed into the power distribution node. Power is out for six blocks."

Sevensia frowned. "The building has a backup generator that should have kicked on."

He glanced at her. "Where is it? The generator, that is?"

She bit her lip, trying to remember. "The basement level, I think."

He nodded. "Bith, put a drone into the basement. Put in a call for backup, I need a Legion hot-drop stat."

The salarian began tapping on the portal haptic keyboard he carried with him, eyes flickering over the data, before spitting out a string of salarian curses. "My drone just tripped an EMP pin-hole trap. Sending in two more."

Jorson flicked the safety on his weapon. "Don't bother. That means they're already inside, backup generator is probably smashed." He tapped his commlink. "Vasquez, where is alpha team?"

There was no reply. The captain's mouth tightened to a grim line. "Giscar, status."

The voice of a nervous sounding salarian replied. "Lobby's clear. Front desk clerk says no one's come in since we got here. Trying to patch a portable generator into the building power supply now."

Jorson grimaced. "Good idea, but only leave one man on that. Whoever this is, they're already inside. I can't raise Vasquez and I need men more than power. Take the stairs, get your men up here now."

The salarian looked up from his own omni-tool. "Someone's jamming our signals, I can't get through to Legion command."

The captain exhaled slowly. "...well, this is going south in a hurry." He glanced around, then gestured to her bedroom, which had no windows. "Lady, please head into that room. We'll be covering you. There's every possibility attackers are already in the building."

She nodded, eyes wide. "Any chance we can escape? Land something on the roof?"

He shook his head. "I wouldn't chance it. They're probably trying to panic you into running. Any fool with a missile launcher could take you out in an air-car. We'll have to hold out until the Broker's people get here and reinforce us."

He swept his weapon across her bedroom before motioning her inside.

Her bedchambers were hardly spartan – a large bed dominated the space, along with closets and cabinets for her array of clothing. The room beyond was almost as large, given over to a full body hot tub and her massage table. The three turians with sniper rifles slung their guns, pulling out powerful handguns, and the salarian put away his keyboard to draw a pair of submachine guns from holsters on his belt.

Without anything else she could do, Sevensia sank down into one of her comfortable chairs. "Surely the Broker's team will be here soon. What could have taken out your men so fast?"

As she spoke, the lights came back on. The captain tapped his commlink, listening, then nodded. "Alright, one of my men got a portable generator up – security systems are back online, in a basic mode." He glanced at the salarian. "Start a search."

The captain's voice was grim and quiet as he turned to face her. "To answer your question, Lady, … if my people were in the elevators when the power went out … they could have been hacked to drop them, to disengage the safety catches that would normally stop them from falling. Falling ten stories will kill almost anything."

She nodded, biting her lip. Her mind raced – there had to be someone she could call in this mess, to bring help. With communications cut, there wasn't much chance of reaching anyone in time, though. Neither she nor the guards noticed the security camera in the corner of the room suddenly clicked back on, panning very slowly until it pointed right at her, and then cut off.

She sat quietly for almost four minutes, listening to the captain give orders. She'd begun to relax when the backup troopers reached her floor, securing the elevator and windows. She wondered when the Broker's people would get here. She was still wondering on that when an explosion blasted through the floor, incinerating the floor beneath her and dropping her and the chair to the floor below.

Unfortunately, that floor had a hole melted in it. And the one below that, and below that, all the way down to the second floor, where she landed in a sickening crunch. Her last pain-filled memory was that of a blur of black and blue, before her spine ripped free of her back and snapped after falling nine stories.

The captain, far above, cursed heatedly, shouting into his commlink. But by the time his men reached the room Sevensia was in, she was dead – and her omni-tool was missing. Each floor above had been cleanly seared through with warpfire, and a series of simple ropes with a grappling hook was placed at the edges of each hole. Someone had melted them rapidly in series, then placed an explosive right under where Sevensia was sitting.

A neatly melted hole in one wall in the room Sevensia had landed in lead to what looked like a hastily constructed ladder, made of omnigel and scrap metal, which descended into the basement. From there, Captain Jorson's people found another hole that had been dug with warpfire, meeting up with the city's sewers.

The only tracker he had, a batarian shook his head. "Never find whoever did this in the sewers. They're a mess. If you send men after them like this they'll never come back."

Captain Jorson sighed in disgust, and went back to the room that Sevensia had landed in. Her broken body was so blood-soaked it was hard to see, but the body and the wreckage of the chair didn't quite cover up the two black silk roses that were placed on the floor, along with a note.

The note was on gray paper, with a waxy surface, and handwritten in flowing asari script. He handed it to one of his asari troopers, who frowned as she read it.

"We know. Three more lives are due, Broker."

The Blue Suns captain looked baffled at this, and none of his people had an explanation for what the note referred to, except that it was something to do with the Shadow Broker.

Outside the towering luxury building, the small team of black-armored Broker soldiers observed carefully, before the salarian team leader tapped his omni and reported in. "Ginnister Tetrimus, we've arrived at Taxial Tower too late. It looks as if Lady Sevensia has already met her fate, based on the number of Blue Suns running about and calls for the police and the city coroner. Orders?"

Tetrimus' voice was hard and frustrated. "Withdraw to the spaceport. We only have two more assets on this world and we already have kill-teams watching both of them. You will be assigned elsewhere."

The Broker soldier nodded, motioning his people back to their aircar. None of them saw the black aircar in the distance, next to a sewer access hatch, take to the air.

**O-TWCD-O**

The two asari in the car were, as usual, silent for most of the trip. They rarely spoke when on a mission, and in any case neither felt like talking when they stank of smoke and sewage.

The aircar was a custom model, built to exacting specifications. The instrument panel was sealed behind armaglass, with a built-in touch-pad of omnigel interfacing with the controls. The rest of the interior was also made of omnigel, and the car had drains built into the bottom.

As the car reached its destination, a rundown looking set of warehouses on the south side of Ilium City, the smaller of the two asari tapped one of the controls. The warehouse door on the right slid open, and the aircar coasted inside, landing on a heavy metallic grating. Heavy stacks of crates and junked air-cars were scattered around the warehouse, but in the distance a section of the floor was folding open, and a boxy room began emerging.

The two asari calmly stepped out, the taller one touching the controls on the car several times, while the smaller one walked over to a coiled hose on a hanging rack. The interior of the car – the seats, the surface of the instrument panel, the mats, and the remaining equipment cases – all liquefied back into omnigel, and the smaller asari sprayed it all down, the sludge draining out through the wide drains in the bottom of the car, and down into the grated drain the aircar landed on.

While this was going on, the larger asari tapped her omni-tool, sending a signal to shut the warehouse door. She wore an all black suit of thin ballistic cloth, stiffened by strips of impact armor woven into the cloth and surmounted with heavier panels of ceramic armor in a dark red across the shoulders and back. Her face was concealed by a black armorplast handle of a warp-sword flashed in the dim lights as she turned away from the doors, and waited for her companion to finish.

The smaller asari – who was dressed identically to her partner, sans the warp sword – finished the spray-down, coiling the hose and hanging it back up. The two then walked, still silently, towards a large structure built inside the warehouse, the boxy construction of metal with a door on either end that had arisen out of the floor. They walked through this, their suits being sprayed with various cleansing agents, nano-foams and other substances, until any possible evidence of their location had been soaked away.

Blasts of hot air quick-dried them as they exited, before they headed to a set of lockers on the wall. They slowly took off their armored suits and helmets, revealing their features.

The taller asari was almost painfully thin, the left side of her face puckered with a long scar that ended in the glowing orange cybernetic attachment that replaced her eye. Her left forearm was silvery metal, chased with blue-glowing inset lines, and her remaining blue eye was hard and cold as she stripped naked, hanging her armored suit inside the locker. From a lower shelf in the locker she pulled out a ratty looking jumpsuit of black and green, slipping into it before zipping it up and placing a battered belt around her thin waist. She then pulled a hooded shawl out from the locker, throwing it over her shoulders, a wrap of cloth crossing her features and concealing everything but her eyes and a thin dusting of freckles on her cheeks.

The other, shorter asari was more heavily muscled, but still thin. One of her legs was partial cybernetics, black and almost industrial looking, and scars from some ancient wound crisscrossed her back and abdomen as she put on thin, tight pants and a loose mid-sleeve shirt, before dragging a hoodie over her head and pulling the hood up. Her gray eyes had a haunted, tired glaze to them, before she put on a rebreather mask and thin, narrow black sunshades to cover most of her own features.

Leaving behind their armor, the two retrieved their weapons – a heavy, elegant pistol and the warp sword for the taller asari, and a battered but carefully tended Spear of Athame rifle for the shorter asari. They calmly walked away from the locker, towards a second, parked air-car, this one battered, nondescript and a dull gray with tinted windows. As they approached the car, the taller asari tapped the cheap omni-tool on her wrist.

The section of wall the lockers were attached to rumbled and rotated, spinning until only blank concrete was seen. The sterilization booth sank below the surface of the facility, a heavy mat of black plastic covering it. A heavy crane slowly lowered a large stack of carefully welded together cargo crates over the first air car and the grating, until at a glance the warehouse was just that – filled with various crates of goods, some junk parts, and lots of empty racks.

With a final glance around, the two got into the car, the shorter one driving, the taller one putting their weapons in the backseat under a dirty, tattered blanket. The battered car slowly eased out into the streets, gaining height slowly and merging into the evening traffic, and a good two minutes passed in silence until the smaller one finally spoke. Even in the security of their own car, there was a circumspection in their words.

"...that went better than I expected."

The taller one nodded coolly, staring out the window. "Given her role in events – she was the one who put people in a place to alter our ship – I saw no point in drawing it out. Just one more crossed off the list of those who have to pay. And we were able to get yet another data-ping when she talked to our real target. I think we have enough data to start a cross-file and localize the place these transmissions are coming from."

The smaller asari exhaled, and then gave a small, grim smile behind her mask as her omni-tool pinged. "The news crews are arriving, and the cops will be running data trawls. Do we head home, or to the office to work on the transmission?"

"Home, please. I know it is past time we had something to eat, even if I am not very hungry, and we could use some sleep." The taller asari folded her arms across her chest. "When is the bitch supposed to call us next?"

The smaller asari shrugged. "Sometime tomorrow, if she can be bothered to keep to the schedule. Maybe earlier, if she hears about what went down tonight." She turned the aircar into a lower traffic lane, headed towards the sprawling field of apartments that constituted the suburbs of Ilium City. "Then again, if the news is any indication, she's got problems of her own."

The taller asari's voice was icily amused. "Yes, she does. Pity. Too bad we can't figure out a way to contact this vigilante...he'd be useful."

They fell silent, as the city passed them by, the gleaming lights and rich environs slowly becoming more and more drab. Finally they landed in the cracked and poorly maintained landing area of their apartment complex, the air-car's engine whining as they came to a halt.

They got out, eyes flicking around for anyone following them or watching, and then headed towards the apartment they shared. The Vine-Court Apartments were hardly even lower class, but no one really cared much about the poor people who lived in areas like this. Given it was only a four unit complex, and that the lot had several battered cars in it, no one paid the complex much mind.

Of course, they owned the entire complex, but no one knew that but them.

The apartment they entered was fairly standard – a touch small, filled with a collection of knickknacks, and a bit dusty. The two didn't even break stride as they walked through the rooms towards the closet in the bedroom. A cloth hanging of the Ilium skyline was pushed aside, revealing an electronic keypad.

The taller asari touched the keys with her cybernetic hand, and the closet – which held an array of faded jumpsuits and tacky dresses – split open in the back, revealing a heavy armored door. They passed through this, shutting it behind them, before passing through the short corridor to their real living space.

It was cramped – built between the four units of the complex, which they had bought out and modified – but comfortable. Haptic screens lined all four walls near the ceiling, tuned to news programs or scrolling images from dozens of carefully deployed drones and cameras. A small kitchenette filled one corner, a pair of desks with data terminals another, a heavy locker filled with guns and other equipment the third corner.

A single door in the far corner lead to a small sleeping space, a pair of plain cots and footlockers of basic clothing, and a bathroom beyond that. The floor, ceiling and walls were all made of noise-canceling tiles and lead-impregnated foam, along with thin panels of vacuum-filled plating to prevent spy-beams or IR sensors from seeing them.

The taller asari walked to the overstuffed chair in the middle of the room and slumped down, pulling away her shawl and mask, while the other asari pulled back her cowl and hung her face mask on a hook near the doorway. "You want the rations or should I try to cook the last of the pear-apples and rice, Lady Liara?"

Liara T'Soni gave a wan, tired smile. "Rations are fine, Telanya. Like I said … I do not have much of an appetite tonight."

Telanya Nasan limped across the room, nodding as she pulled open the small refrigerator and took out a pair of human military rations. "You are more down than usual, Lady Liara."

Liara sighed, rubbing her cybernetic eye attachment, which constantly ached. "I worry about my aithntar, as usual. Goddess only knows what will happen to her if Aria is killed by this Archangel lunatic. Aria might kill her out of spite if she thinks she will lose her own life. And there is nothing I can do."

Telanya nodded, expertly opening the rations and dumping each into battered, chipped bowls that she then placed in the small heating unit in the wall. "Maybe. Or maybe she'll just cut and run, and this Archangel could rescue her. We have to stay positive." Her voice hardened. "Not that it matters. I mean, about us .. and this, not your aithntar. I would be doing this even if she had not tried to force us into it."

Liara gave a slow nod. "I know. When one has lost everything except revenge..."

Telanya shrugged. "It isn't just that, Lady Liara. Don't get me wrong – the Broker is going to pay for killing Garrus. I don't care what it costs me as long as I can kill that vile thing." Her voice softened. "But I would like to think, given my past as a law officer, I would go after him anyway, even if … Garrus had survived. Even if he wouldn't approve of the methods."

Liara pinched the bridge of her nose. "Perhaps. There are times I wish I was free to simply go after the Broker – " She broke off as one of the haptic screens flashed and new data scrolled across the screen.

She read it, even as Telanya pulled out the food and began adding a few seasonings to it. "Something come up?"

Liara's lips thinned. "More possible intel from Aria. Nothing solid, but we are starting to piece together where the Broker's people are hiding. For some reason, most of them are out near the Rimward Expanse."

Telanya frowned, setting a bowl on the small table next to Liara, before picking up a spork and working on her own food. "There's nothing out there."

Liara sighed, picking up her own eating instrument and taking a bite of reconstituted 'steak'. "I agree the direction seems to make no logical sense, but we have seen the Broker does nothing without both a reason and profit. We cannot afford to ignore it."

Telanya shook her head. "But we know Tetrimus operates out of Ilium a lot these days. Buying up materials and working with various construction and design firms. We can't go haring out to the middle of nowhere without a plan or target – we'd stand out too much out there."

Liara dredged up the ghost of a smile from somewhere. "I recall a similar worry about standing out on Ilium. We will see what happens when we take the last of our targets out here – but if we are lucky, the Broker may be out there."

Telanya picked at her food, her eyes darting around from time to time as if making sure they were safe. Liara recognized the motion and often did it herself. They would never be safe again, though, and every day they went through the motions of life – if killing and sneaking around could be called 'life' – just made them a little more on edge.

There wasn't even that much sadness or hate any more. It had all been burned out of them. There was just a sense of a need to finish what they started. Then maybe they could rest.

The last two years had been ugly for them both, and not all the scars were physical.

**O-TWCD-O**

The last thing Liara could remember of the battle that had nearly killed them all was the bright, searing beam of Tetrimus's attack cutting through the decking she and Telanya stood on. The fight until that point had been the most horrifying and humiliating thing she could remember – Tetrimus wasn't even bothering to take them seriously, fending off their best attacks with sneering jibes.

She had just thrown all her power and fury and anger into a bolt of warpfire, which had splashed like so much water against the turian's barrier, when her hand just seemed to come off. The shock of it was so great she didn't realize she was falling until she heard Telanya's screams of agony.

Somehow, the long hours drilling with Ahern had snapped her out of her own shock. She remembered grabbing the other asari and throwing what shreds of strength she could into a barrier to cover them both, and trying to slow their decent with a pull of the nearby rocky cliff face they were flying down. She remembered a huge, heavy impact and a feeling of pain and something else, and then nothing.

The last thought that had flashed through her mind was that of Miranda hauling the stasis pod of Shepard away. Maybe her love could survive this. There was still a chance.

Then blackness.

The next memory she had was of laying in a private hospital room somewhere, hooked up to life support equipment and hurting all over. A salarian doctor worked on her from one side – one eye replaced by some kind of baroque cybernetic attachment with sliding lenses, and two extra cyber arms hooked into his shoulders, each holding medical tools.

She realized she could only see out of one eyes, and couldn't move her body. Her eye was drawn to the right, as on the other side of her stood a tall, strong looking asari with the cold eyes and a poisonous smile.

"Welcome back to the shores of life, Doctor T'Soni. Don't bother trying to talk, your throat is still being fixed up."

The woman's face was beautiful, but cruel – the lips curved into a hateful smirk, the tight muscles of her abdomen and heavy breasts barely covered by thin black straps under a white vest. Her light purple skin gleamed with oils in the dim light of the medical bay. Behind her Liara could make out the form of Telanya, laying on another medical bed.

Liara had seen this asari once before, seen her aithntar fence threats and words with her, but could not speak to say the name.

"Answers will come in time, little dart-fish. From you, to me. I am Aria, and from now on, I own you."

Liara had not understood that statement until later.

More surgeries had followed, and she realized at some point that she was missing her left forearm, not just her hand. She'd been carefully healed, and after about a week, when she'd finally been able to speak and sit up, she and Telanya had been wheeled into a different hospital room. Sitting in a life-support lift chair was the battered figure of her aithntar, Aethyta.

Liara had felt a flicker of relief at the sight of her. Her mind and soul were still torn and bleeding at the loss of Sara, but she clung hard to the vague promises of the Illusive Man, that Sara might still live. And surely if Aethyta had lived, the rest of her brave friends had survived as well?

The truth crushed her and broke Telanya utterly.

Aria had grinned in sadistic delight as she told them of the fate of their band – Garrus, dead at the hands of Tetrimus, probably tossed into the trash pits to be recycled. Shields they already knew was dead, but according to Aria and a snippet of video from the Alliance, Tali was crippled for life. Her aithntar was also crippled, and a prisoner of Aria.

And the Alliance had buried Shepard's body.

Aria didn't know how ugly that information was to Liara, but it put an end to any hopes of Sara's survival. Liara had not only lost her love, but – as she had feared – gotten her friends killed or maimed.

Aria's gloating voice had lashed her very soul as she nearly purred in delight. "Now, normally, given that you were going against the Broker, I'd be inclined to let you go...but patching you two up cost me a good deal of credits. And despite Aethyta's assurances, I'm not convinced your little group didn't have something to do with the attack on my station, and the losses to my pride and status I suffered."

If Liara had not been under the influence of a pulse suppressor, she would have smashed Aria's face with a blast of warpfire for that remark. As if her suffering was anything to Liara's own. As it was, she seethed in her lift-chair, her arms bound, and listened.

Aria had folded her arms. "At the same time...I dislike throwing away perfectly good tools simply because they were wielded poorly. So I have an offer for you, little T'Soni princess. Right now, everyone thinks you two are dead. They found part of your arm and her leg, and while they didn't find Aethyta's body, they did find her warp sword under a ton of rubble – and no blade mistress would surrender that until dead. So I can honestly do whatever I want with the three of you – hand you off to my soldiers to play with, or maybe shoot you in the head and toss your body to the Justicar Order – they would appreciate that, I think, maybe even pay me for it."

Liara found herself sneering. "So why do you not do so? It seems like the typical action a thug like you would take."

Aria's amused gaze traveled to her aithntar. "She doesn't take much of her manner from Benezia, I see."

Aethyta had merely given Aria a cold glare. "Pray hard I never get out of this chair, you evil bitch."

Aria had nodded, and then backhanded the helpless matriarch, hard enough to snap Aethyta's head back and leave blood dripping from her mouth. "I'll keep that in mind, old bag."

Turning back to an angry Liara and a horrified, broken Telanya, who was still reeling over news of Garrus' death, Aria had found her smirk again. "The reason I don't, child, is simple. The Broker is my enemy. He's framed me, of all people, as being behind trying to sell your sexy little girlfriend Shepard's body to the Collectors, and hinted that I'm tied up with P. This after he tried to take over my station."

Aria had walked back and forth in front of them, eyes narrowed. "He made a fool of me. And no one gets away with that. But I can't be sure his spies aren't in among my own people. Someone hacked my defenses. Someone mislead my people to think this was a straight up deal. None of the best assassins can get close to him – and besides most of the best work for him."

Liara said nothing, and Aria continued. "I can't trust mercenaries or independents – they could be bought off, and they won't have the dedication to see this through. Fear of death will stop them – or bribes, or pressure. Even if they didn't, you can't take out the Broker with pure force."

She eyed Telanya speculatively. "I need someone who has a certain motivation to want to strike back at the Broker on their own – unconnected to me. A lightning rod of sorts – someone to pressure him and draw him off my ass and into the open. A distraction and a knife in the dark he won't see coming. That's where you two come in."

Aria had knelt in front of Liara, cruelly gripping her jaw and staring into her eyes. "You will be my knife in the dark."

Liara jerked her head out of the other asari's grasp, glaring."I'm a scientist. Telanya is a C-SEC officer. Neither of us have the skills to kill the Broker. We couldn't even kill _Tetrimus_."

Aria laughed. "But you'd _like_ to kill him, wouldn't you? If you had the chance, you'd like to kill them both. Don't answer. I already know. I know what losing a bondmate feels like – to have them murdered. To feel helpless and broken, hollow, empty."

For the barest hint of a second, Liara something else in those hard eyes – pain? Sorrow?

It was gone before she could be sure, and the voice hardened. "But Omega doesn't trust. It can no longer feel pity, or empathy, or pain. And I intend to get my money's worth out of you two."

Aethyta snorted. "Why drag my girl into this bullshit, Aria? Have your freaky cyberdoc fix me up and I'll do all the butchery you want."

Aria smiled, still looking at Liara. "Because you're my insurance, Aethyta. As long as little Liara here obeys me, you stay alive and healthy. And if she's successful...I even fix your spine and let you go free. But if she says no, or defies me, you die. Slowly and painfully."

Aria's voice dropped. "But Liara, unlike you, can't just run back to the Council of Matriarchs and tell them what is going on. They'd kill her as soon as speak to her. So you get to sit your ass on that chair and entertain me with your helpless rage."

Surprisingly it was Telanya who spoke. "And what about me? Lady Liara is powerful, but I'm just a cop. Did you drag me up here to blow my head off to prove you're serious or something?" There hadn't been fear in her voice, only resignation.

And Liara would never forget the vicious ugly smile Aria had at that. "You? Oh, no." She'd walked over to Telanya. "Pretty little thing, aren't you? My people found your records – your boyfriend killed an ardat-yakshi for you – one hunting you. And you survived. You're tougher than most clanless pieces of trash."

Aria smiled. "No, you have useful skills as well. The turian was your bondmate, and you hate the Broker too. Liara will need your skills – and no one will really care one way or another if you are dead or alive."

Telanya looked away. "And if I don't want to work for a criminal?"

Aria's smile widened. "Then it would take me all of fifteen minutes to send someone to Tharas and have your sweet mother and her whole shitty apartment building burnt to the ground."

Liara gritted her teeth. "You are as bad as the Broker. I understand now why the Council of Matriarchs wants you dead so badly."

Aria tilted her head. "Don't get me wrong, little girl. I'm sure that I could probably just let you go and you'd try to kill the Broker on your own. I could let all three of you go and maybe you'd even have a shot at doing it. But the truth is you, T'Soni, could cause me problems in the future without someone holding your leash, and your aithntar definitely could. The Thirty would love to find something to hold over my head, and they'd cut you whatever deal you wanted to get you to say I was behind Shepard's death just to alienate the other aliens towards me even more."

Aria folded her arms. "Instead, I'm going to use you. The Broker is expecting … conventional assassins. People like that relli Tetrimus, or Tazzik. Hooligans who rely on power and force to get what they want and bring down their enemies."

The beautiful asari's eyes gleamed with amusement. "There are other methods to use, though – the same ones I used. Misdirection. Information gathering. Careful planning. I didn't just decide to use you two because I wanted to torment Aethyta. Like you said, you're a scientist. You plan and study, you analyze and think. The cop there was good at finding financial patterns and things other cops missed, because she was careful and methodical."

Liara forced herself to listen.

Aria's voice dropped in tone. "I don't need a pair of killers. I have a whole station of those. And they've failed, again and again, because that's playing the game the Broker wants me to play. I need someone to put together the pieces remotely. To slowly and carefully dismantle his network, to put a hundred little fragments of the story together."

Liara's eyes narrowed. "You are speaking as if going after the broker is similar to researching something, or making a hypothesis."

The mocking smile returned. "Exactly. It is a method he won't be looking for. He's gotten to used to having all the information, covering all the angles. He won't be looking for you. And you two aren't powerless. You survived going after Saren and Benezia, fighting Cerberus, and you somehow lived fighting not only P. but Tazzik and Tetrimus. And you have lost so much...and have more to lose by saying no than saying yes."

Aria's voice was softly seductive. "You can be of more use to me alive than dead. You can get back at the Broker...and in a way that he'll never see coming. Omega can't feel pity...but it understands revenge very well."

Liara glanced at Telanya, who was staring at the floor. Liara closed her eyes, wishing she knew what to do.

She could imagine Shepard's voice in her head. _I knew I hated this bitch for a reason, marazul. But you have to tell her yes, or she'll kill all three of you. The longer you're alive, the more time you have to plot to get back at her, too._

Liara swallowed, then raised her gaze to meet that of Aria. "I won't work with you until I know my aithntar won't just be killed the moment we're gone. If you further abuse her, or hurt her, then I will expend my last breath on turning every hand I can find against you, rather than the Broker."

Aria laughed. "You're paralyzed, with one arm and one eye, surrounded by my people, and you threaten _me_?"

Liara's voice hardened. "I have nothing left to live for, Aria. You said you understood where I was. Then you should know what I am feeling."

The queen of Omega looked at her a long moment, and then surprisingly nodded. "Fine. Your dad can't keep a civil tongue in her head no matter how many times I slap the shit out of her anyway, so it's a moot point."

Aethyta found a grin. "That's because you hit like a volus. All those years on your back must have made you soft, huh?"

Aria glanced at Aethyta, then smiled. "I believe I have a solution to your insolence. Every time you mouth off, Aethyta, I'll reduce the amount of help I provide your daughter in her tasks." She had turned back to Liara and Telanya. "Well?"

Telanya had then spoken the words that committed them both. "The Broker … killed Garrus. Killed Shepard. You say you know what losing a bond mate is like. I can't speak for Lady Liara. But if you help me get back at Tetrimus, I'll do whatever you say. Just leave my mother alone."

Aria met the smaller asari's gaze evenly. "And you, T'Soni?"

Liara had let herself think very hard on that question before answering. "I have no choice. If I defy you, my aithntar will pay the price." She had forced a lighter note into her voice. "And I find myself with a great deal of time on my hands. I want assurances, like I said. I want to see my aithntar every week. I want to know you haven't killed her, or worse, and I want to know exactly how this is going to work."

Aria's smile had been like sweet poison. "It works like every other murder, princess. You knife them from behind while they're busy looking for a gunman in the distance."

Aria's plan had been very convoluted, in the end. She had a wide network of people off of Omega who provided her with information, but had no time or method of putting any of these people to use. The best she could do was sift through the rumors and information for things she could use, but making sense of the larger picture was something she didn't have the time for.

Many of these sources were on Ilium, where Aria hinted she'd once lived before taking over Omega, and where Aria suspected the Broker ran many of his operations from.

Aria was convinced if she could simply put together enough clues, she could get a lead on where the Broker was. He had to have lines of supply, methods of communicating with his people. Tetrimus and Tazzik – who had somehow survived, much to Aria's chagrin – had to be based somewhere. It might take a thousand small things to find the clues, but once they did Aria would strike hard.

Her own people had tried, and failed. Then again, they were not experienced at that kind of thing, and Omega was so volatile Aria couldn't afford to commit major resources to a side job like this that might take years. The more of her people she spent looking for such leads, the more likely they would be noticed by the Broker, and any slips in his security closed up before she could act.

But Liara and Telanya would not be connected to Aria. They would have no one scrutinizing them, or counter-infiltrating them. Once they were dispatched, there would be no link for the Broker to find to realize they worked for Aria.

And with the combination of Liara's analytic skills and Telanya's experience in financial tracking and detective work, they might succeed where Aria's people had failed.

Liara and Telanya would be given several months to heal, and top of the line medical and cybernetic care. They would be equipped with the best gear Aria could afford, given a fast cutter and a good deal of money, and new identities. They would be dropped on Ilium, and given the name of someone Aria knew for a fact was a Broker contact.

They would have to figure out how to spy on this person, ferret out their secrets, find their weaknesses, and bring them down. Once they succeeded, they would use the information gleaned in the hunt and from his own resources to select the next target. In theory, the more successful they were, the less pressure the Broker would be able to bring to bear on Aria as he was forced to defend his Network.

Either Liara and Tel would find the Broker and come up with a way to kill him, or Aria would have the breathing room she needed to try and go after him conventionally. And if they could find information that compromised his story to the Council, then the Broker would really be in trouble.

And thus, Liara and Telanya had agreed.

**O-TWCD-O**

Liara's first months after the Burning were hard. There were days she cried, and days she could barely bring herself to keep moving forward. It wasn't just the pain of losing Sara, it was the idea that her life was over. She had to crush down her grief, her pain, and focus on getting stronger. The surgeries were painful as well, even with anesthetic. The majority of her other wounds had healed, but whatever Tetrimus had struck them with had splashed both Liara and Telanya with burning hot metal in places, and the damage to their limbs refused to regenerate. That flesh had to be forcefully removed, and then allowed to regrow.

Liara had to have a cybernetic eye replacement, and her left forearm replaced – even asari regeneration wouldn't fix the searing scar tissue left behind. The somewhat crazed technician who did the work, the four-armed salarian named Gears, was some kind of expatriate from the STG and the Salarian Union, thrown out for conducting experimental surgeries too extreme even for the salarians to stomach.

But he was a brilliant surgeon and cyberneticist, that Liara could not deny. He flawlessly crafted her augmentations, making them both functional and eerily beautiful. The artificial hand had myomer muscles, titanium bones and a grip that could crush a krogan's forearm. It included magnetic plates on the palm, a datajack in one fingertip linked to a pair of internal OSDs, and small, poisoned blades that popped out of the knuckles. He'd even tinkered with the gun Shepard had made her, giving it a link to the cybernetic hand that would shift between the shotgun and pistol mode with but a thought.

Her eye could see in a number of differing wavelengths and included other helpful features, such as real-time link to her omni-tool to allow her to visually see data she brought up in her field of view.

Telanya's injuries were far more severe – she had damage to her spine and both arms as well as her entire leg missing. The doctor replaced the leg with a mix of cloned tissues and cybernetics, but went with vat-grown augmented muscle tissues in her arms, making Telanya much stronger. He laced her bones with strengthening agents and put cybernetics in her spine to handle the additional strength, all of it laced with blueware so Telanya's biotics wouldn't be crippled.

The two were given a selection of various weapons – many of which Liara vaguely recognized, both from her training with Ahern and scattered pieces of Sara's memories. Aria had no intention on training them how to fight, but she had no problems with letting them take a small armory worth of gear.

Telanya also picked up a large amount of various tools – hacking devices, powerful mini-comps, spy beams and drones, and the like. Liara picked small, compact scientific tools and informational processing systems, along with basic medical gear and a medical VI bot much like the one Sara had gotten them for their own use.

When Aria questioned that, Liara had calmly told her that since they would possibly be injured, exposing themselves to local clinics or hospitals would only leave a trail to be followed. Aria had been amused and impressed with the reasoning and let Liara buy a top of the line medical VI system.

It took them three months to get organized, healed, and ready to go. Every week, Liara would have an hour to talk to Aethyta. Her aithntar did not waste her time with small talk, instead setting her down and having her link. She pushed as much of her knowledge and memories of the use of a warp sword and how to fight into her daughter's head as she could, then followed it up with tips, advice and what she knew of Ilium and the dangers to be found there.

Aethyta had given her three key pieces of advice.

"First, don't go in guns blazing, ever. The clanless run Ilium, for the most part, and they hate disruptions to their business. Set yourself up as an information broker. Make deals, find allies and leverage them. Never show any antipathy towards the Broker, but always remain independent – and constantly hint you're working for the Thirty, or the STG, or some other big shots without being blatant about it."

"Second, don't try to handle everything yourself. Find mercenaries – not the good ones. Go for the desperate ones, the ones no one will notice if they go missing. It doesn't matter if they suck or not, the independents – especially turians – will be grateful to the person who gives them a break. Build up a group of them, and keep them in reserve – use them to cover your escape when things get hot. Never use any of the big merc groups, you can bet the Broker has his hands in all of them."

"Finally, never forget that you are a killer now. Don't dwell on it. You'll be sick the first few times you have to take lives in cold blood – when it becomes a chore rather than a thing you dread, you'll find its a lot easier. I won't lie to you and say you should fight it – being a killer is the only way you'll survive Ilium for long."

Liara had procured a simple, mass-produced warp sword from the markets of Omega with Aria's permission, practicing with it for hours every day while they waited to head out in the final weeks. The delay was due to Aria wanting to produce the perfect opportunity to send them to Ilium.

Aria's people were in a shadow war on Ilium and being pushed out, but instead of holding ground were gathering all the information they could and sending it back. Telanya and Liara's days were spent going over this morass of rumors, grainy images, snippets of recorded conversations, spy-beam transcripts and outright suppositions, trying to draw inferences.

Sometimes, when she was busy enough, or tired enough, she could let herself forget about Sara. She could throw herself into the data and lose a sense of who she was. The rest of the time, she tried to use her time constructively. So did Telanya, although the smaller asari had an air of disinterested apathy most times.

When Aria's last lieutenant on Ilium was killed, the queen of Omega had them brought to a private docking bay, where all the equipment and supplies they'd procured were being loaded into the cutter they'd use. Aria herself was there, along with the ever-present batarian lieutenant called Bray.

"Finally, you two can get out of my crest and make yourselves useful." Aria's voice was cool. "My cybernetics specialist will be installing a spinal replacement interface in your aithntar tonight, T'Soni – although we won't hook it up until your job is done."

Liara had argued and very nearly begged for that, to do the ground work to heal her father before nerve decay made doing so impossible, and she had learned enough of how Aria's mind worked to know she was expected to show gratitude. "Thank you. I will insure your investment is not wasted."

Aria's smile was brittle. "We'll see. The first thing you have to do is survive on Ilium. I had an old acquaintance there once, who dabbled in information brokering. She had a sister, crazy little thing, who did most of the shooting. The two did some work for me about a year ago and both of them died in salarian space, but no one on Ilium knows that yet, or that they ever worked for me. You'll be taking her place."

Liara frowned. "Won't this person's associates know the difference?"

Aria shook her head. "Doubtful. Most of her associates were members of the crowd that ran with Sehvia Nassilus. When Sehvia was stupid enough to piss off another player in the sort of business she dealt in, most of them fled or were killed. My people have killed off the rest – quietly."

Aria folded her arms. "Right now, the Broker is convinced he's driven the last of my people from Ilium. He'll be having his own agents make sure of that, so you'll have to lay low at first. I recommend using the time to establish yourself and build bolt-holes for when things go wrong. I've given you enough cash that you can not have to hustle for a while, but that won't last forever on Ilium – and don't expect any more. The only link you'll have to me from now on is the one encrypted comms transmission where you report progress weekly."

Liara nodded. "I presume that is also when I will be able to communicate with my aithntar?"

Aria narrowed her eyes. "Yes. The commlink equipment is on the ship, so if you decide to sell it for cash, make sure you remove it first. It's STG equipment I acquired from unwise STG agents, and it uses a rotating system of one-time pads. There's five years worth included in the system – if you last longer than that, I'll send someone with some more."

Liara nodded, and exhaled. "I have a question, one I have long wanted to ask. Why are you doing this? Surely you have video evidence that you had nothing to do with the death of Shepard and that the Broker was the one behind the trade of her body. Why this baroque method?"

Aria gave the pair a cool smile. "I have problems of my own – some lunatic has started gutting people on the station, calling himself Archangel. The Broker's people are taking down my contacts on a dozen worlds, and he's doing his best to alienate and drive apart the warlords I've brought together. I have some kind of mole or spy in my inner circle."

She turned away. "This is just the best use of an otherwise worthless resource. I have more plans and ideas than just you two in the tides. But since no one except me and Gears knows you survived, your little feint may be worth its weight in eezo if the others don't come to fruition."

There had been little more to say at that point, and Liara and Telanya had departed that night.

**O-TWCD-O**

Their arrival on Ilium had been somewhat frightening, as their cutter was nearly caught up in some kind of pirate activity near the relay, but they managed to slip by without taking any damage or attracting the attention of the system patrols. They had landed in the capital, Ilium City, and offloaded everything they could form the ship – including the comm link – to a remote warehouse before selling the ship for hard cash.

With that done, they set out to learn about their new home.

The world had long been an asari colony, but had grown immensely strong in the past century, its wealth rivaling that of Thessia itself. The clans had long disdained the world, and the Thirty were slowly losing their grip on actually controlling the multitude of ambitious and rapacious clanless who ran the planet's Corporate Court. It was perhaps the antithesis of Thessia, a world of contrasts.

Thessia was calm and reflective, Ilium was fast-paced and all too often murderous. It had more laws than any other planet in the galaxy, and yet for all that almost nothing was actually illegal – only taxed and regulated. In a way it was little better than Omega, except its vices were carefully dressed up in corporate language – slavery became 'indentured service contracts', prostitution 'entertainment mobility services', drug dens were 'substance exploration clinics'.

The wealth and beauty were visible, but behind the facade were slums and compacted habs of a billion wage-slaves and helpless souls. Debt slavery was not just practiced but de rigeour, and entire families were often only working under loads of debt they paid off tiny fractions of at a time. For any other race, a century or two of such servitude would be unbearable. But for asari, it was inconvenient.

Non-asari on the world rarely fared as well. Liara began to see the planet as little more than a cleaned up, slightly more civilized version of Omega.

Liara and Telanya quickly set up their offices in the shell of businesses left abandoned by the two Vantirus sisters, taking on their identities. This was aided by the fact that while some remembered them, almost no one could claim to have known them personally. The Vantirus Sisters were known best for never showing their faces – which was no doubt why Aria had suggested taking their identities.

Liara let Telanya do most of the initial shopping for them, as she was still used to making due with very little from her years in archaeology. While Telanya picked out supplies, outfits, and scouted apartments, Liara went to work on cleaning out the offices they would use and moving in equipment. She also was cautious to check for listening devices, spy cameras and the like, finding a handful that had probably been gathering dust for years.

It took two months for them to set themselves up as specialized information brokers, mostly dealing in financial tracking services and the occasional data trawling. Liara hired a pair of 'indentured' quarians as tech specialists, tearing up their contracts and promising to get them back to the Quarian Flotilla if they could help set up data networks, security and the like.

The quarians eagerly agreed, and were of immense help in the first few months, as Liara had little idea of how to do much of anything on the extranet. She learned how to hack, how to built basic monitoring and spy devices, and how to perform encryption and decryption. Rather than relying on the same few quarians, she would ship them out to the Flotilla every month or so, pulling in new ones and learning different things from each pair.

Telanya had done skip tracing and bank tracking before, and had little trouble doing so on Ilium as she had on the Citadel. The first few clients they had were mostly independent bounty hunters, looking for people who'd angered the wrong gang boss, matriarch or company. In all their dealings, Liara and Telanya appeared side by side, wearing black business suits and veils, offering low prices in return for 'future favors' or information.

In this way, they quickly learned that most information brokers were not actually independents, but patrons of a powerful corporation or gang. Many brokers worked as part of data gathering rings for one of the big corporate combines, which meant their services would never conflict with said combines.

Rather than follow that track, Liara and Tel decided to remain utterly independent. They were constantly busy, working fifteen and sixteen hour days, Liara buried in learning from the quarians she hired and trying to make sense of the data they had on hand already, or making calls and connections to boost their business, Telanya constantly running financial traces. Their evenings were buried in trying to learn more about their first target, a gun smuggler and assassin known as Old Silver, a turian outcast with a long criminal record who served as a kind of freelance troubleshooter and resource for Broker agents on Ilium.

The bits of information they got were augmented by what they learned from the various clients they helped. Many of the independent bounty hunters and loan agents began patronizing their brokerage regularly, due to their fairly low prices, speed, and the fact that they didn't answer to any of the combines.

When a few agents of the minor financial combine Datastream suggested it might be dangerous for them to remain independent, Liara had smiled at the salarian they sent, and then suggested it might be dangerous for Datastream to assume they didn't actually have a patron. When he'd pushed for who said patron might be, however, Liara found herself without an answer to give.

Telanya had come up with one, though. "You expect us to expose our patron to you simply because you ask? Has it not occurred to you we are keeping it quiet for a reason?"

A pair of mercenaries had attacked them a week later, trying to firebomb their office. Liara had caught them both in a lift field and thrown them out the window and down sixteen stories to the ground below. When the police came, Liara claimed she acted in self-defense, even having prepared video of the assault. To her surprise (and disgust), the police didn't even care she'd just killed two people, they were upset because she hadn't cleaned up the mess they made on landing.

Telanya had merely sighed when they were fined a thousand credits for littering. Datastream didn't bother them after that, because Liara's first real hack was to frame them for violations of the Ilium tax codes, and the corporation was raided in the weeks after. As it turned out, they really had been breaking more than a few of Ilium's laws, and the entire combine was taken apart in short order.

Gossip, of course, stated that they had pissed off the Vantirus sisters, which lead to their demise – giving them a dangerous cachet in the rumor-nets of those who used information brokers. They began to get other jobs of that nature, and Liara was astonished at how much money they made in a short amount of time.

Months slowly passed, and Liara found herself too busy, too stressed to let herself get depressed or sad much. It was instead as if all light and color were sucked out of her life. She 'lived', if that could be used as the word, only to work. They didn't have anything to do with their time but press onward with finding out about Old Silver, building their business, and increasingly, defending themselves.

Their reputation grew as dangerous independents with a mysterious patron. And still, she didn't have the access or information she needed to really pin down how to take out Old Silver. Liara took a risk and decided to use their growing fame as a lure.

When the Broker's people started sniffing around, Liara had already prepared. She'd rented remote data centers on Sur'kesh, the Citadel, and Watson, and had them daisy-linked through encrypted links. When her quarian techs suspected someone was monitoring their comms, she made a series of encrypted calls to the link on the Citadel first, using commercial encryption that, while strong, she was sure the Broker could break.

The reports she made were mostly about asari owned business concerns, and the routing she used made sure the calls went from the Citadel, to Watson, then to Sur'kesh. She made it difficult but not impossible to trace, and even went to the trouble of anomalously starting some extranet rumors suggesting the STG had used the services of the Vantirus sisters in the past, when they had vanished from Ilium.

The goal, of course, was to attempt a very risky strategy – get access to the Broker Network directly. It took almost three weeks of this before a stranger entered her offices and her misdirection paid off.

The stranger was a drell, dressed in a stylish long coat with armor underneath, and introduced himself as Delzon. Liara recognized him as being one of the many loosely affiliated scouts the Broker used to recruit new talent to the outer levels of the Network. He said he represented a consortium of other independent brokers, but Liara interrupted him with a laugh.

"I am neither blind nor incompetent, Mr. Delzon. You are an agent of the Shadow Broker. May I inquire why you are really here?"

Delzon had given her a thin smile. "You are very well informed, Ms. Vantirus."

Liara shrugged. "I am an information broker, no? It does not benefit me to be blind to the tides around me. Again...why are you here?"

Delzon's smile had faded. "The Broker is curious as to why a pair of information brokers who vanished a few years ago suddenly reappear, ignore their old patron to go independent, and appear to be transmitting information to the Salarian Union and the STG."

Liara smiled. "I fail to see how that is the Broker's business unless he is offering some sort of accommodation in return. I do not inquire as to the interests of his agents."

The drell folded his arms. "The Broker is always interested in furthering his network. And frankly, the STG doesn't do much work on Ilium – most of it falls into their usual patterns of monitoring through the agreed upon channels. You, on the other hand, very nearly eluded our attention at all."

Liara had leaned back in her chair. "Suffice it to say that I am fully independent and merely selling … interesting bits … to a party on Sur'kesh. My old affiliations are no longer associated with me, but I am certainly not affiliated with the STG...directly."

Delzon's fencing had gone on for sometime before he made his offer – to join the Broker Network as a very low level source. Telanya's skill at financial tracing was highly valued, it seemed – and Liara's own abilities at putting together data for a few of their clients had impressed.

The way they'd slapped Datastream out of their way had also highly impressed the Broker's scouts, although they thought all of the charges had been fabricated by Liara, not just the one tax evasion charge. He even agreed that it wouldn't have to disrupt their own back-channel deal with whoever they were working with in the STG, clearly believing that to be her patron.

Liara had nearly laughed as she agreed, and thus obtained low-level but useful access to the Network's LINK. With that, their mission to learn about and take out Old Silver went from difficult to almost trivial. They covered their many inquires about him by dint of quietly seeking out clients that tended to use his services, and then sometimes referring the business his way.

As such, they even got to talk to their target a few times via comm-link. Old Silver disgusted Liara with his too-smooth talk, and employed more euphemisms than the Systems Alliance did. He was handsome, for a turian, tall and stately, with silvery tones to his plating and black and gray facial markings. Given that those stood, roughly, for 'ferocious valor' in the turian concept of facepaint, Telanya wondered if he was just a lying sack of flesh – or outright delusional.

They took another two months to plan the way they would take him out. Old Silver, they learned, was something of a lady-killer, with a weakness for asari. Given he was on Ilium, that made sense, but his tastes ran towards daughters of Lesser Houses, not clanless, although he often dallied with the dancers at his favorite club, Sensationals.

Old Silver was not a large scale threat, or a deadly combatant. He was, at best, a clearinghouse for other agents of the Broker to use, and a supplier of weapons often used in assassinations. But that made him an ideal target, since he had bits of information and links to other agents that they could exploit.

His home was a heavily secured set of suites near the top of one of Ilium's most exclusive mega habs, meaning taking him out at home was unlikely. Old Silver was not particularly dangerous in combat, but he employed a pair of very tough turian biotics as bodyguards. His offices for his front-business, that of a shipping company, were under fairly tight physical security.

His gun smuggling operations were sloppy, since Ilium didn't really see that as a crime. The ships he used to smuggle out weapons to various separatists in the Hierarchy and pirate groups in the Traverse were all owned by him, crewed with hardened mercenaries and combat capable. But Old Silver rarely if ever accompanied these ships except when setting up a new deal, making that an unlikely avenue for taking him out.

Weeks of trawling through his financial information, monitoring his movements via spy drone, and hiring up a dozen different asari dancers to 'entertain' him had revealed only one minor vulnerability in his patterns – he often ate at a fairly high-class restaurant in lower Ilium known as the Searpani. It catered mostly to turians, but was run by quarian cooks and specialized in exotic dishes and 'translating' the tastes and textures of certain levo foods into dextro equivalents.

The owners were exiles from the Flotilla, and their restaurant was doing fairly well, but they were still behind on payments due to the owner of the building, and would probably need a loan in the next few months or risk going under. They employed three cooks, all quarians who were on their Pilgrimage, who lived in low-rent housing not far from the restaurant.

The Searpani had very weak security, and it was in a high wealth, low crime neighborhood. Given he'd eaten there for years with no issues, it was the only place where he was even remotely vulnerable.

Liara had already ruled out a straight assassination, as they needed chaos from the time Old Silver died to the time the Broker killed his LINK access to raid his files. She'd already set up a remote location to perform the hack from, but there wasn't a point in doing so while Old Silver was still alive, as he would report the breach.

Now that they were part of the Network, they understood that in cases where an agent was assassinated, the LINK and the agent's databases were remotely wiped as fast as possible. But in cases of natural death, they were kept open – re-establishing a LINK connection once broken was expensive, given the complex security firmware.

So Old Silver had to die in a way where they would have a window to act, and being shot or blown up wouldn't fit that. A traffic accident might work, but hacking the traffic control networks would leave traces. Telanya suggested hiring someone to run into him, but Old Silver rarely if ever walked anywhere in the open, even to the Searpani.

Liara wondered about poisoning the food, but an autopsy would almost certainly reveal most poisons, and neither of them had any idea of what poisons worked on a turian anyway. They could certainly research it, but then introducing the poison would be tricky. And hacking the simple security system of the Searpani's cameras revealed that when he ate, Old Silver was paranoid enough to run a food scanner over his meal.

But the idea reminded Telanya of something. She remembered a case she'd worked on the Citadel, involving a clever salarian poisoner who was able to inject food supplies with a chemical that, in combination with a second chemical, induced violent behavior and hallucinations into turians. The beauty of the combination was two-fold, as the second chemical was a commonly applied seasoning in some quarian dishes. Nothing would show up on any food scan, and the effects wouldn't be immediate, often hitting only after half an hour or so.

Liara worried that others might be affected by the effect, and Telanya grimly pointed out that they didn't have a choice in that. Liara didn't want innocent people getting killed, but understood that if they did, it would look less like the target was Old Silver, and more like some kind of obscure food poisoning.

They spent a week identifying the food supply companies that worked with the Searpani, eventually finding one that supplied all the basics for Old Silver's favorite meal, reteferi. Hacks of the Searpani's database showed the recipe called for the needed seasoning that would set off the compound – and that few other customers ate the reteferi.

Ironically, they ended up buying the compound they needed from what turned out to be another Broker agent, although they used a hired quarian to do the purchase, shipping the youngster back to the Flotilla the next day.

Telanya had personally infiltrated the warehouse of the food supply company that night, after Liara had shut off their security via hacking. Using staggered infiltration cloaks and a camo-shift optical jumpsuit, Telanya had dosed all the fish that went into reteferi with the base chemical, before sneaking out undetected.

The next day, they hired a pair of salarian mercenaries, who Liara had identified as being tied up in some of the more disgusting slavery rings operating off of Ilium. They provided two air-cars and gave the salarians instructions to shadow the car of Old Silver once he left the Searpani, and if the opportunity arose where the turian got out of the car and appeared to be acting erratic, to run him over Liara said if they could play it off as an accident, they'd each get a hundred thousand credits, and while not giving details, let slip the fiction that she was one of Old Silvers' jilted lovers.

Then they sat back to watch.

Old Silver was always punctual. His expensive late-model air-car was a luxury conversion of a police vehicle, and he wore a suit and armor chest piece produced by the most exclusive salarian armored clothing manufacturers.

He went into the restaurant, and Liara watched him eat his meal through the security cameras she'd hacked. He left an extravagant tip, flirted with the quarian female who served his meal, and returned to his vehicle, the aircar headed uptown, towards his home.

Halfway there, the aircar skewed to the side, the driver shot in the head. It crashed, and Old Silver crawled out, firing a heavy pistol at his own bodyguards, screaming incoherently. Security drones and cameras zoomed in, as a pair of asari Ilium City Security approached on foot, screaming for him to drop his weapon.

The turian shot one of the cops, the other asari returning fire but failing to bring him down. Liara smiled coldly as Old Silver ran towards the cop, firing wildly, and was struck head on by an air-car, flying through the air to land in a bloodied heap in the street.

Liara and Telanya began hacking immediately, breaching Old Silver's security systems in minutes and downloading everything they could from his personal computers and databases. It took over nine minutes for news of Old Silver's death to hit the news, and by then Liara had downloaded ninety percent of the contents of the database. They hastily cleared the traces of their hack and disconnected, and by the time Broker hackers accessed his account, they found nothing out of place.

An inquiry found that Old Silver and two other turians who'd eaten that day at the Searpani were affected by a source contamination in the meals they ate. The other two turians were treated and hospitalized, the restaurant fined heavily and driven out of business, and the driver of the air-car given a minor fine and let go. Liara paid the two salarians off, and then hired another mercenary to kill them both – she hated slavers and had picked those two so she wouldn't feel bad about killing them to cover her own tracks.

Old Silver died at the scene, his spine broken. The LINK alert that went out that night suggested he'd died of food poisoning complications, and that his files appeared to be secure, but were being purged just in case. Old Silver's usefulness had been fading in recent months, and speculation that he may have pissed off one of his former lovers who'd somehow figured out an exotic method of killing him went back and forth on the LINK, but no one really believed that.

Aria was congratulatory and amused when she got the news. "Very creatively done. I may have wasted you two on this task, maybe I should have you come to Omega and kill off those who irritate me."

Liara folded her arms. "Why did you pick Old Silver to die first?"

Aria smiled. "A number of reasons. The most important was that he cheated me on a weapons deal. But, as you'll find out once you go through his files, a second reason was that his little smuggling business supplied the weapon used in the assassination attempt on President Windsor. Indirectly, he was involved in the mess of events that lead to Shepard taking the mission that got her killed. I thought you would approve."

Liara closed her eyes. "I see. Once we go through all the information, we'll send you what we have. Do we pick our own next target, or will you be doing that?"

Aria's expression turned into a smirk. "I see no reason to micromanage. I have more important things to do with my time, after all. But if you can, focus on those who took out my people and who are a threat to my position on Omega, first."

The months since then had been more of the same. Somewhere along the way, rumors of a pair of sisters who hated the Broker had started making the rounds of the rumor-nets, and the legend of the Sisters of Vengeance were born.

Liara had been horrified at first, wondering how they'd slipped up, only to find out that one of their victims had lived long enough to describe a pair of black-armored asari as causing his demise before he died. Liara had seriously considered laying low for a while, but Telanya had suggested they run with it, starting the calling card of leaving a pair of black roses at each site. That touch had turned suspicion and fear into terror.

They became more and more cautious with their security, setting up the entire warehouse dock to ensure they would never be connected to any of the assassinations they saw to themselves. And they took more active kills as well – Liara preferred to behead her targets with the warp-sword, after Telanya shot them with paralyzing darts. They wanted the target to fear, and suffer, before death.

When they blew up the salarian who'd masterminded sabotaging the Normandy six months back, Liara had smiled for a week.

For every target they took out personally, they usually took down one or two with sneaker methods like those they used on Old Silver. The Broker began having problems keeping his network active on Ilium, and many associates of the Network fled the planet.

The killings continued, each one a little easier than the previous. And Liara discovered that killing was easy, once you stopped seeing the targets as people, as having families or children, and instead focused on your own losses – and how these smug criminals had profited from it.

As they sank further and further into their role, Liara's unwillingness to harm others faded. Telanya became less interested in trying to minimize casualties, turning almost sadistic in the ways she plotted for the Broker's people to die. They no longer bothered worrying so much about who got caught in the crossfire, as most of Ilium's people disgusted them – the information they had at their fingertips made Liara wish to detonate the planet, some days.

A lot of their targets died in terror and pain, and a few suffered badly before they were put out of their misery. The days blended together, and thoughts of life beyond the hectic, stressful existence they now lead faded into dim memories.

Memories and anger were all that kept her going some days.

**O-TWCD-O**

As Liara sat in their tiny living space, thinking back on what they had done so far, a thought struck her. She looked up at Telanya. "When we finish this – when we take out the Broker – what happens then? Aria will probably not want to lose our services."

Telanya's gray eyes met her own stare and the clanless gave her a weak, tired smile. "I don't know, Lady Liara. Starting over seems impossible." She stared at her hands, the smile fading from her face. "Garrus would hate me, I think, if he saw what I had become." Her voice hardened. "But I don't think Aria is stupid enough to try and go back on her word. And if she is, I will be delighted to kill her."

Liara nodded. "I almost would hope she would try, except my aithntar might pay the price. As for how Sara would react..." Her voice turned bitter. "The only relief I have in this is knowing Sara will not have to see how I have defiled myself. Murdering the innocent to get at the guilty, working for Aria of all people...she would have wanted me to live, but not like this. Not to do the things we have done."

Liara shook her head. "The worst part about it is that it does not bother me. I do not have nightmares of the lives we have taken, the things we have done. I do not wrack myself with guilt, as Sara once did, of how others saw her. I am merely tired." She sighed. "Of everything."

Telanya placed her hand on Liara's shoulder. "Thinking about it won't make that any better, Lady Liara. You should get some sleep. We still have a lot of work ahead of us."

Liara nodded faintly, eating another bite of her food before speaking. "I will. You should too." She paused. "Do...do you ever hear Garrus? In your dreams?"

Telanya gave her a long, sad look, then nodded. "I do."

Liara smiled weakly. "I hear Sara, sometimes. Telling me to keep fighting. To stay angry."

Telanya laughed suddenly, a sound Liara had not heard in months. "I hear Garrus making sarcastic comments about most of our kills." She sighed. "I guess that means we're going crazy, if we're hearing our dead bond-mates talk to us."

Liara shook her head. "I prefer to think they live on inside us, as siari claims. That … that no matter what, Sara will never leave me. And that she understands why I act as I now do."

Several minutes passed as they ate quietly, and then Liara pushed away her bowl and stood, exhaling. "I cannot let myself get lost in grief or sorrow. We still have people to kill. When you get done eating, go ahead and pull up the data-ping on the comms she had with Tetrimus – the download should have started as soon as we took out the power to her apartments. Once that's done, we can go over what we found on her omni-tool."

Telanya slowly nodded, tapping her own omni-tool. "You sure you don't want to rest first, Lady Liara?"

Liara's eyes narrowed as the light from the haptic screen in front of her lit up her face. "I can rest when we are done, Tel. I have a turian to kill first."


	7. Arc I : Upgrades and Retrofits

_**A/N**:  
_

_Obviously my writing speed has slowed. This is due to some rather severe lower back pain. I'm going to be going the doctor Tuesday, possibly just for MRI but possibly for minor surgery - I'll know more Monday.  
_

_This is a Shepard Chapter. There's at least a few more chapters in Arc I before the things really start moving. I've been bad about responding to reviews and PM's (due to the pain - there are times I can only write for fifteen minutes before needing to lay back down) and I apologize for that. _

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

* * *

_'Whoever it is can use singularities and the blade - possibly a renegade priestess of Athame? Need more information'  
_

_\- Agent Decann, STG Forward Observer on Korlus at one the first sightings of the Butcher  
_

* * *

Shepard found her personal quarters very comfortable, but more than a little bit disturbing in some ways.

The amount of personal attention to detail was creepy at times. She had a desk, with the flat-top console setup just the way she'd had it on the Kazan, the same bookmarked extranet sites, and even haptic image frames of the same pictures she had on her desk. She had an entire closet full of clothing, most of it loose, long-sleeved, and in black and gray – much like the clothing she'd bought herself on Intei'sai – all of it styled in a fashion that allowed her to carry a concealed weapon.

She determined that the omni-foundry unit in her rooms here must have been looted somehow from the Kazan, because a few custom designs not in her notebook were already loaded into it. She had a nice coffee-maker, the same model as the one Anderson had, in the small dining area, along with the few kinds of food she liked to eat.

Someone had loaded her music up from the player she'd bought on Intei'sai to the music system in her rooms, as well as her favorite shows and movies.

It all drove home to her how much of a project she was to Cerberus. On the one hand, she could understand why they did it – anything to make her comfortable might help her not freak out. On the other hand, it still spoke volumes about how much they clearly knew about her.

She didn't think she was impossible to manipulate – only that most people made lots of stupid assumptions about how she thought, felt, and acted. Clearly, the Illusive Man wasn't going to make that mistake. If they had painstakingly researched her likes and dislikes, they probably also knew why she'd acted how she had – and the best ways to spin things.

It was a disturbing thought she tried to banish by learning what had gone on while she was dead.

She sat in a comfortable chair in front of her desk, reviewing news feeds from the past two years, smoking cigarettes and sipping on Vindrasian scotch. As she suspected from the bits of news the Illusive Man and Trellani had already told her, the galaxy had been gulping down idiotball tea by the gallon since she died.

The main points – that the expansion of the Council had pretty much rearranged the power-blocs a bit but that the asari and salarians were still the top dogs – failed to surprise her much. Nor did the idea that the turian Hierarchy was in an economic crunch due to the volus pretty much pulling all the way out of the Hierarchy. The salarians had been rocked with scandal after one of their big-shot scientists had been caught experimenting on asari and ended up being executed, and that had made asari and salarian interactions a lot more frosty.

The geth war had become a clusterfuck of monumental proportions, while the quarians had finally settled down on a couple of worlds, but now were undergoing lots of issues with those who still wanted to take back Rannoch clashing with those who wanted to just settle down. Most people felt they were being played hard by the salarians in economic terms, but they didn't have a lot of options.

What she didn't see were preparations for the Reapers. She'd known they'd keep it quiet, and Chambers and Harper had both mentioned the Broker had been downplaying the threat – but she'd expected something – conspiracy theorists, disaffected politicos, something. Instead she found barely a handful of terms, most related to outrageous claims put forth by a turian who'd died a day after making them.

She wondered if the Broker had a hand in that, too.

The Alliance, at least, was being somewhat smart. They'd pulled back from trying to found new official colonies, spending more money on colony defenses, weapons, and building out more ships of all classes. But they'd also spent more and more money on building up industrial capacity outside of the Sol system – and, she saw with amusement, turning Neo Berlin into a damned fortress, going so far as to base the new Sixth Fleet out of the system.

Unfortunately, the current political parties in power were not exactly the best choices. Terra Firma had grown immensely since Saracino shot himself and the party had been taken over by Amul Shastri, one of the big-shot CEO's of Westerlund News. Shastri had re-tooled the Terra Firma image, casting them in a more benign light – not so much anti-alien as anti-Citadel. He'd cleverly introduced some of the more radical, bitter asari of Watson to the party – those who'd been hounded or oppressed by the Thirty – and constantly called for the Alliance to look after 'Alliance interests first'.

Shastri didn't run things himself – he had a Prime Minister named Adaren Addison, a disgustingly handsome type who pushed all the right buttons for the voting electorate. Addison pretty much hated all the aliens except possibly the quarians, and yet was so eloquent and charismatic that he'd managed to somehow avoid negative commentary about himself.

Huerta was still president, although his chances of re-election looked rocky indeed. The party that backed him, Alliance Blue, was splintering over debates on whether the Navy should be expanded to found new colonies, or if the Alliance should fortify it's own holdings. Many were bitter the Alliance didn't act to take a slice of batarian territory in the fall of the Hegemony.

"Huh. Have to read up on that."

The New Democratic Party had been rocked by scandals, and Shepard was sad to see that President Windsor had basically fallen to pieces. It looked like some of his relatives may have been tied up with bits of the disgusting crap she'd learned about from Kyle, and in the investigation all sorts of things came out. Windsor had multiple affairs – with both men and women, it seemed – and Eliza may or may not have been his only illegitimate child. The family had been disgraced by his actions, while the news implied he may have used his position to steer lucrative military contracts to allies of his House.

He'd resigned not long after Eliza had died, a broken man by all descriptions, and ended up in a sort of exile from the family on Dirth, of all places.

The rest of the news about the Alliance was less good. The economy was struggling in some areas, and there was a lot of unrest in the Class I colonies over lack of defenses. Sirta had collapsed in the wake of yet more allegations of connections to terrorists, this time the mysterious Hades Group.

Hades had come out of nowhere about four months after her death, picking up the most extreme aspects of Cerberus and mixing it with Terra Firma alien-racism and a fine patina of pro-corporate panderings. The group had blown up alien trade ships, assassinated several human government officials who were pro-alien, and defaced the Unity Monument, where the asari had built a statue on Earth claiming the humans as their cousins. On the wildcat colonies, and even some Class I colonies, they were wildly popular, as they had won the loyalties of many Corsair captains and were a scourge to the pirates in a few areas.

In the mix, though, the ugly reality was that even Hades couldn't stop piracy. Reports about missing colonies had been written off as attacks from the hordes of pirates created by the collapse of most of the Batarian Hegemony, mainly due to several well documented and savage attacks by pirates on colonies.

Shepard read about the fall of the Hegemony with a mix of glee and disgust. The Emperor had executed all of the Hegemon class, and basically carved back his own domain to less than twenty worlds. His ambassador-priests had claimed the rest of the Hegemony was on it's own, and immediately powerful high-caste admirals and lords ended up in civil war.

In the aftermath, about two-thirds of the old Hegemony – the parts closest to the Hierarchy – had ended up annexed by the turians, with the batarians as a client race. The other third had ended up joining up with Aria, much to the chagrin of the Council, when the Alliance declined to take over the region. As a result, piracy was up, and Aria's empire had grown stronger in some ways – although it was still wracked with chaos from the events on Omega itself.

The rest of the galaxy – a mess. But technology was moving on in surprising ways.

The Salarian Union had been experimenting with new computer technologies, and along with human companies, come up with new lines of mechs, some of which Shepard had seen in her own base. The LOKI was a replacement for the AESIR, with heavier armor, better sensors, and capable of downloading skill packages to improve its utility.

The military version of the LOKI, the RAMPART, boasted even heavier armor and shield generators, omni-armor, and various weapon packages from close-in assault to sniping. The Alliance had deployed hundreds of thousands of such mechs, supposedly overseen by a series of VI's and human operators known as the Enhanced Defense Initiative. When Shepard read that it had been something developed at Pinnacle Station by Admiral Ahern, she wondered if that was the adaptive VI system she'd faced in her mirror match.

The old JOTUN mech had been split. The new heavy mech, the MJOLNIR, was heavier, better armed, armored and faster. But the Alliance and Salarians had also combined technology to create what they called a 'siege mech' – the FENRIR. Details were still sketchy, but these mechs were the best attempt the Alliance had at matching the large geth Colossi platforms.

The Salarians had also expanded their fleet, mostly in unique ways, investing in a new sort of hybrid magnetic-kinetic shielding designed to deflect 'heavier munitions'. Notes from her analysts had marked this story for review, suggesting the shielding would be better suited to deflect the sort of firepower Nazara had used. Cerberus agents were attempting to obtain this technology.

Shepard didn't bother reading up on the turians, asari or elcor much – it was mostly boring stuff – instead focusing on the volus, who'd apparently lost their minds at some point. The latest stunt of the VDF had been to establish six colonies of vorcha inside volus space, expending a great deal of time and effort to breed up what could only be called assault troops.

Vorcha could handle g-forces even better than humans, and the volus had traded missile technology and vast sums of money to the Alliance for carrier plans and fighter technologies. Vorcha-volus fighters used packs of mini-missiles and lots of speed to overwhelm targets, and were deployed from hybrid carrier-cargo ships that escorted non-military volus trade ships.

A lot of people hadn't expected the thing to work out, but it had, surprisingly enough. While there was a lot of criticism on how the vorcha were raised and conditioned, there was an underlying current, among some commentators, of seemed like admiration.

Shepard snorted. That figured – the volus only got respect when they started acting as fucked up as everyone else in space.

Some new technology had come out. Many personnel weapons were now equipped with disposable heat-sinks, in conjunction with improved friction-less rails and better heat-sinks in the weapons themselves. This allowed a weapon to fire far longer before the disposable heat-sink overloaded and ejected, and it could either be replaced with another heat-sink or rely on the weapon's own cooling. The increase in heat dispersion allowed for larger, more powerful weapons and heavier plasma or ion blasts, but had also kick-started new standards in armor and shielding technology.

Most armor now included self-sealing omnigel layers and at least a few segments of omni-field generated armor, to break up and buffer incoming impacts. The quarians had introduced simple and efficient eezo-driven powered supports for armor, allowing much heavier suits to be worn, and the elcor had pioneered overlapping shielding generators that could fit into such suits of armor, meaning that the high-end armor suits were even better at stopping low-end weapons.

She'd have to re-tool her ODIN – that much was clear. Her old weapons wouldn't make a dent in some of these new heavy armors.

The main new technology was the so-called Thanix MHG – Shepard instantly recognized it as the same kind of weapon Nazara used. It fired small streams or bursts of super-heated omnislurry, magnetically charged to overload ship systems, and even the small-scale systems the turians had prototyped so far were far beyond even a dreadnought main gun in sheer damage.

Shepard was so engrossed in thinking of the possibilities of such technology when applied to personal weapons – which no one, amazingly, had thought of – that she missed the first chime of her door. The second one got her attention, and she rose from the chair with a frown.

"Come in."

The door slid open, revealing Miranda Lawson. "I wanted to see if you were doing alright, Shepard – and if you need to talk."

Shepard stared at her a long moment before gesturing to the leather sectional couch next to the desk. "Have a seat. Talking...I don't know. Never been a big point of mine. Nine times out of ten, talking about things doesn't change anything."

Miranda sat, nodding slowly. "Perhaps. It does help some people, however. And since we are going to be working together for the foreseeable future, it would help if I could learn how you were doing, handling events – without wondering if you were depressed or just fine. In your past you were rarely demonstrative of your mental state except when pressed. If you don't mind the company."

She trailed off, a bit uncertainly, and Shepard nodded. "I'm not gonna tell you to get the hell out, Lawson. I may not … like … the fact that I'm alive again – but Chambers was right, sort of. I'd be a pretty ungrateful bitch if I took out the things I'm having to face now onto you."

Miranda nodded, and she glanced around the room. "That's fair. I'll start with the basics – I am guessing you have everything you need for your personal comfort? Is there anything else you can think of you'd need right now?"

Shepard sat back at her desk, leaning back, and picked up her cigarette. "No, I'm good. More than good, actually. Then again, I'm not much for luxury. I need grub, coffee, cigs, and a drink every-now and then, and I can keep going."

Miranda made a face. "I doubt that will suffice in the long term, if you don't mind me saying so. We are not exactly certain how some aspects of your new form will perform or react under the stress of combat, and it is likely you will experience a wide array of side effects – including pain. The things like a omnigel foam mattress and the hydro-spa probably seem like useless luxury, but you may need them later on down the line."

Shepard puffed on the cigarette. "Well, from what Trellani was saying, it's pretty likely I won't live very long anyway. Cancer, or organ failure, or cascading...whatever she called it."

Miranda scowled. "Cascading immune system misidentification. A common symptom of heavy cybernetic conversion. We can treat or alleviate most of those things, Shepard. While I have no way of determining how long you will live like this, you aren't going to suddenly die in the next five or six years."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Then what kind of side-effects are you talking about?"

Miranda leaned back. "Nerve discomfort. Fevers or chills. Mental fatigue. Bone pain. Possible disorientation, nausea. Internal bleeding. Headaches. Your muscles, for the most part, are now artificial, so they won't get tired, but the portions of you that are not cybernetic will accrue fatigue at a much faster rate. You have less tolerance for the sort of bodily toxins produced by just living, and we have to monitor such things very carefully."

Shepard winced, and Miranda sighed. "To be blunt, none of your systems have been … well, tested. In the field. Some of the things we introduced are beyond experimental – we literally have no idea what will happen when you use them the first time. And we didn't want to take the chance of trying to do testing when you were unconscious, as lack of feedback from you on what you felt might have lead us to assume things. At the very least, some of the more extreme things you can do in a physical sense will cause you a great deal of pain."

Shepard blew out smoke, shrugging. "Old DI in the Penal Legions said there was a price for everything. I didn't expect to cheat death and get away without any sort of penalty. If the drawbacks aren't bad enough to stop me from fighting, then I can deal. Pain hasn't stopped me before."

Miranda nodded. "Still. While I'm not doubting your ability to endure, we want you to be as comfortable as possible when you have the opportunity to do so. Hence the 'luxury', as you put it."

Shepard snorted. "Yeah. I'm not much for luxury...but I don't _mind_ it, either. I'm not some weirdo who demands to live in a leaky shack, eschewing technology. From the clothing and the music, and the layout of the place, you guys did a good job figuring out my likes and dislikes, didn't you?"

Miranda nodded again, more slowly this time. "We made the best attempt we could. To suggest that anyone can understand what you've gone through is arrogance, Shepard. But in the process of restoring your memories, we were able to see some pieces of your older memories – what you suffered in your youth. That was enough to horrify even a hardened .. person... like Matriarch Trellani. The least we could do is try to fit your personal desires as best as possible."

Shepard shrugged. "One thing I've slowly come to terms with is that Rachel was right. There's no such thing as closure." She exhaled. "A lot of what I've done over the years was stupid. A lot of it was me not bothering to try to get over things – some of that was because I didn't know how, and some of it was because I was being a hateful, resentful little bitch."

She smiled, puffing on the cigarette in her hand. "But most of what I've gone through in the past … year or so – "she broke off. "Ah, the last year of my life would be a better way to say it, I guess … has allowed me to realize that the shit I went through isn't a justification for anything. I'm not going to say that living through it didn't suck. But having people tiptoe around my past or feel sorry for me won't do a goddamned thing to make me feel better, so I don't see the point."

Miranda nodded. "I see. I didn't mean to pry."

Shepard waved a hand. "It's not prying, Lawson. It's just that I've heard those words a lot, and they never seem to _mean_ much. Everyone says I'm not crazy but they looked at me like I was. Everyone says they understand it must have been hard growing up, then turn around and say they don't understand what it could have been like. At the end of the day? If I spent all my time going on about how much my early life sucked, I'd be right back where I was before I met Liara."

A flicker of pain crossed her features, and Shepard took a breath. "And I won't do that." She looked down at her feet for several seconds, and Miranda sighed.

"I … well. I won't make the mistake you've alluded to and claim I understand, Shepard – but I can easily grasp why talking about it isn't something you want to keep going over. We all have bad memories we'd rather just put behind us."

Shepard nodded, then bit her lip. "Speaking of bad memories...the Alliance doctors told me my brains had been given such a good stir by the Beacon I'd need Liara in my life to stop the damage from driving me crazy. How do you guys plan to get around that when my nightmares start up again? Trellani said it was 'dealt with', but I got no details."

Miranda folded her arms. "I'm afraid I don't know the details. Matriarch Trellani engaged in some form of asari mental alteration … or perhaps therapy. The asari had a method to deal with those who had been injured by Dark Beacons, but the skill and knowledge was limited to those within the Temple of Athame. From what she told us, you will not have any issues with the Beacon and its images in the near future. Perhaps in ten or fifteen years you may – she was not forthcoming with details."

Shepard rubbed her eyes, then took a drink. "Shit. I get a lot of that." She put the drink down, and leaned back. "So why are you really here, Lawson? I figured the shrink would be down to pick my brains and all that. You don't strike me as the kind of person who chit-chats for the sake of chit-chat."

Lawson smiled. "She admitted to some concern about you getting drunk and tearing up your quarters, which I don't think is something you would do. But I just wanted to talk. I know this transition is not something you can simply come to grips with quickly."

Shepard shrugged. "You mean being dead?"

Miranda nodded. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but yes. I spent the past two years working to bring you back to life. Not to go on about my own achievements, or that of the team – but it was a remarkable undertaking. But on further reflection, there was too little time expended on determining how this act would affect you – mentally, emotionally. Psychologically."

Miranda's face twisted. "I suppose the addition of Chambers, in that regard, was a good idea – but I still would like to hear what you feel."

She picked up her drink again, sipping the scotch, and smiled. "The funny thing is that it doesn't bother me as much as it should. Maybe it hasn't hit me yet. Maybe the past year of my life before I died was so much different than everything before it that I'm adjusting better."

She paused. "You ask me what I feel? I feel alone, Lawson. That sounds … cheap, and what Admiral Ahern would call 'emo shitfaced crying', but that's what I feel. The fact that I died doesn't make me feel anything at all compared to the missing spot in my head where Liara should be."

Shepard exhaled sharply. "But focusing on that … just makes me want to drink more. You were asking about how I dealt with knowing I was dead."

She shrugged. "When I woke up, it was like every other time I'd caught too much fire in a mission and gone down. I didn't have any visions of heaven or hell, or any awareness that any time had passed." She frowned. "I guess when I think about it now? I know it happened. I know two years have passed. But it's going to be a while until what that means fits into my head in a way where I can express it."

Miranda nodded. "You are at least not, as Chambers put it, 'freaking out'."

Shepard gave a thin smile. "I never found that freaking out improved a situation. Life gives you what you have to work with. I can fucking cry about it, or I can be a big girl and move the fuck on. Given the amount of my life I wasted on bitching about my circumstances..."

She trailed off. "...besides. I've been thinking about what I am now." Shepard tapped her console, bringing up a word definition site on the extranet. "I looked up what 'revenant' meant. Lots of negative meanings. Something brought back from the dead to gain revenge on those who wronged them."

Her gaze met Lawson's, cold and flat. "I can get behind that kind of thinking. Although the name's a little obscure."

Miranda frowned and glanced at the screen. "I believe the Illusive Man derived the name after watching _High Plains Drifter._ I disagreed with the name myself – I would have preferred Lazarus."

Shepard laughed quietly. "I can't really see TIM watching old westerns, but I can't see him big into the Bible either." She glanced at her cigarette and saw it had gone out, so lit another. "He's not quite what I expected."

Miranda smiled. "He once said his greatest delight is people thinking they know or understand him getting so much about him wrong."

Shepard glanced at her drink, before shrugging and taking another sip. "Maybe. I think he likes the whole 'man in the shadows' bullshit a bit too much for my taste. But as long as he doesn't think he can play me, I can go along with this … " She waved a hand around her "... for now."

She glanced at Lawson. "Anyway. Not really interested in him. Since you say you're here to talk...tell me about you." She puffed on her cigarette again, gazing at the woman across from her through the smoke.

Miranda looked a bit surprised. "Me?"

Shepard nodded. "Harper says you're going to be my XO. The last XO I had was just about perfect in everything he did professionally, but his personal life seemed like a mess. Since you know everything about me and I know almost nothing about you, it seems a fair way to start."

Miranda nodded slowly. "Alright. You are familiar with NOVENSILES, from what I have been told?"

Shepard's expression darkened. "Yeah. I am."

Miranda exhaled. "Then you may or may not like what I have to tell you about myself. I was … created, for lack of a better word. Crafted, by my 'father', Henry Lawson, to serve as a prototype baseline for the NOVENSILES project. They needed a template from which to base the genetic modifications off of, one that came as close to human perfection as possible."

Miranda gave a self-deprecating smile at Shepard's expression and continued. "So I was genetically modified even in utero. Adjustments were made by a team of specialists. I'll live longer than a normal human. I need less sleep, less food. I'm stronger and faster. My memory was augmented by certain drell protein chains and mimicking drell DNA patterns, and so I have photographic memory and a very high learning capability. My biotics were also engineered, making me stronger than most human biotics."

She grimaced. "In order to give me biotics, they had to deliberately expose a woman to eezo...they implanted my modified embryo into her, dosed her with enough eezo to ensure I would be biotic, let me develop...then removed me pre-birth to continue their modifications."

Shepard shook her head in disgust. Miranda continued speaking as she shrugged. "My physical attributes were also … handcrafted. Henry Lawson wanted me to resemble his own dead wife, I believe. After I was born, every minute of my day was planned and controlled. I was raised more by tutors and scientists than in any sort of family environment, and shown off to certain high Alliance officials and members of the High Lords of Sol as an example."

Her voice became bitter. "However, he wasn't pleased with the final result. The genetic modifications they'd performed did not mesh well with the initial planned 'upgrades'. And the process they used in creating me meant I was effectively sterile."

Shepard winced, and Miranda continued, her tone still mostly even. "As such, I was deemed a worthless expenditure of money. A 'sister' was created, Oriana, with various improvements I lacked, while I was mostly used as an experimental test subject. She was more _acceptable_ than I was – more submissive, less independent."

She pushed back her hair. "Eventually when I was nine years old, Jack Harper expressed an interest in my abilities, and I was … sold to him by my 'father'. Since then, Mr. Harper has trained me, encouraged me to find my own path and pursue my own goals and dreams, and had me lead and coordinate his most critical projects."

Shepard nodded slowly. "How old are you, Miranda?"

The woman looked slightly defensive before speaking. "I'm twenty three."

Shepard shook her head, puffing on her cigarette. "Jesus. So...this NOVENSILES crap. It made you, literally. We'll get back to you in a minute – I want to know what's your take on this bullshit?"

Miranda's eyes narrowed. "It is essentially monstrous. I understand, in a purely logical manner, why certain parties feel a need to 'improve' humanity. The salarians are smarter and faster. Turians are stronger and tougher. Asari have longer lives, much stronger biotics, and more robust immune systems. Batarians lack organs that allow for instant kills, krogan regenerate, drell have perfect memories..."

She sighed. "The idea that humanity is 'weaker' than these aliens has bothered some ever since the First Contact War. Appropriating such … advantages would make humanity more prepared to defend itself if things went badly. In the days in which NOVENSILES was first proposed, that may have been a real concern."

Miranda pushed her hair back. "But what it has become – the thought monitoring, the complete destruction of anything approaching human baselines in the pursuit of power, the disgusting grayboxes – is merely a power grab, in my opinion. And a stupid one – the other races will see this sort of egregious gene-modding as a threat and act against us as they did with the rachni. And if details were to leak to the public, even the Commissariat couldn't suppress the rioting. The Lords of Sol would lose their privilege and be destroyed. I find it hard to believe no one sees this is what would happen."

Shepard smiled thinly."I've found people in offices far from the front line rarely if ever bother to think about long-term consequences."

Miranda gave a small smile. "Perhaps. As how I view NOVENSILES in regards to my own existence...it is complicated. It made me what I am – and yet it denied me any chance to be a mother, or to take pride in any of my achievements."

She stood, stretching her legs as she paced slowly. "In the process of bringing you back to life, I researched your life, Shepard. You always pushed yourself to learn everything you could, that you found useful. You cross-trained into fields that almost all other biotics and Vanguards ignored, even when that resulted in you having to study on your own time."

Miranda gestured towards Shepard. "You achieved the highest possible score in your N7 qualifications, studied an obscure form of the biotic charge with the asari and mastered it, and went on to be awarded some of the highest honors a human can receive."

Shepard snorted. "Yeah, and look where that got me."

Miranda shrugged, turning around to face Shepard. "Yes, but that isn't the point. You started with nothing. You had nothing. Everything you achieved was with your own hard work – you had no natural advantages."

Miranda smiled sardonically. "For me, things were … never the same. How hard is it to learn everything you put your mind to when you have photographic memories and were manufactured to have higher intelligence? When you had no choices in whether or not to study hard or push yourself, but were forced into it? When you have no options in life but to study and master whatever is thrown at you – or worry that, once again, you'll be seen as flawed, insufficient, and thrown away?"

Shepard folded her arms. "That's how you see yourself? Flawed?"

Miranda sighed. "The Illusive Man has been a part of my life for a long time, and he's shown me a great deal of care and concern. And while I have no love for my 'father', I will not deny he put a great deal of money, time and energy in to ensuring I had every advantage in my early life."

She exhaled. "But at the same time, in the end I have always been judged on what I have the capability to do, not what I actually have done. It is very hard to take pride in my achievements compared to yours, because I do not feel I earned most of them – and because ultimately, I wasn't good enough. Not for my father, and in some ways, not enough for Mr. Harper."

Her voice was bitter, and Shepard raised both eyebrows. "Not quite sure what to say to that. On the one hand, Lawson – who gives a shit? The only person you should be trying to prove anything to is yourself. The only difference between your dad and mine is in details – we both got sold off. Worrying about that won't get you anywhere. I did it for a long time...and I could have done other shit, things to make me happier. It was only when I finally let go of it that I realized it doesn't matter."

Lawson gave her a look, and Shepard sighed. "I guess the closest thing I had to a father figure was David Anderson. The closest thing I had to a mother was Rachel Florez. I wanted to impress them both. I wanted to prove they were right for believing in me. But the thing I remember about both of them is that they never sat down and told me 'you must do this or that or we will be through with you'. I excelled at what I studied because I wanted to be the best – and yeah, I thought at the time if I was the best people would care."

Miranda nodded, and Shepard shook her head. "But that was me missing the whole fucking point. In the long run, Rachel turned out to be a piece of shit. In the long run, I found out that being the best at everything I tried didn't make me any fucking happier at all. It just made me a better tool for the Alliance to use. You gotta find your own reasons to value yourself, or you'll never be happy with anything."

Shepard sat back, puffing on her cigarette. "As for the shit about coming from everything and me coming from nothing..." She shrugged. "That's true of a lot of people. President Windsor once basically told me the same thing when I said I wasn't comfy with being on the same social level as he was. I don't judge people by where they came from – only by what they can do. Liara came from the highest levels of asari society and it didn't do her a damned bit of good. She had a miserable childhood – less physical abuse than mine, but what can be more fucked up to a kid than being made to feel like she's trash by her own family?"

Shepard puffed on her cigarette again before putting it out. "The fact that some slimy fucker bred you up in a lab to be 'perfect' doesn't matter much to me. You are making your own choices now. If that means you can perform higher than most humans can, then I'll expect more out of you than the rest of whoever I bring into this mess."

Shepard met Miranda's eyes. "But at the end of the day, who you make yourself into – and what you want outta life – is always gonna be more important than where the fuck you come from. If that wasn't true I'd still be slinging red sand with the Reds. No one gives a shit about how hard you had it, or I had it – they just want results."

Miranda tilted her head. "An interesting viewpoint. The Illusive Man said I should value my talents and special abilities and use them to the fullest. That a part of my … unique value was the very things that make me question how much recognition I deserve for what I have accomplished."

Shepard leaned back. "Well, what _have _you accomplished?"

Miranda blinked. "Aside from pulling together and leading the Revenant Cell and your resurrection? I was in charge of the fire-team that recovered your body from Omega. Prior to that, I organized the recovery of various Cerberus assets in the aftermath of the destruction of Cerberus HQ and worked with Jacob Taylor to derail a terrorist threat."

The dark-haired Cerberus operative folded her arms. "Up until that point, I mostly worked with various cells as a floating resource, aiding in gathering information, coordinating operations, and on occasion engaging in infiltration and surveillance through … alternative methods."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "So, strong on organizational stuff, information gathering, all that kinda thing? Like an AIS agent?"

Miranda gave that concept a few seconds of thought before nodding. "That is a good way to characterize it, I suppose. While I don't have the level of combat experience that as AIS agent does, of course, I can hold my own in combat – pistols, submachine guns, and assault rifles, plus info-war and biotics. I heal faster and tire more slowly than baseline humans, and my reflexes are augmented."

Shepard looked at the package of cigarettes, but decided not to chain smoke a third. "Sounds to me like you could be nasty in a fight. But that's not all an XO has to do. The hardest part of leadership for me was letting other people do the job. Some of it was, for a long time, that I was … not trained right. No one taught me how to lead the right way."

Shepard stretched. "But a lot of it was that I knew I was better and more likely to get the job done than anyone else. I didn't like my people getting hurt."

Lawson nodded. "Hence why you so often lead from the front." She tilted her head. "I do not know how much use as an executive officer I will be. A good deal of my time, I expect, would be spent on correlating intelligence information from the base when we are out on patrol or on assignment, and assisting Doctor Sedanya with the cybernetic aspects of your needs. I always thought an XO would have most of their day expended on maintenance of the crew."

Shepard waggled a hand. "I've been a line XO for a division, and – very briefly, mind you – for a ship. One thing stays the same, you try to filter bullshit from reaching the CO. Pressly was...great at that. He was always thinking two steps of ahead – of what you'd need, of what you forgot about. I was more details oriented in just making sure shit didn't blow up. There's no 'guide' how to be a good XO, anymore than there's a valid guide on how to 'lead'."

Shepard picked up the Vindrasian and poured more into her glass. "But someone as details oriented as you should do fine. You don't drink?"

Miranda gave a faint smile. "Not often. One drawback of my metabolism is that it tends to affect me more strongly – and quickly – than others. You, on the other hand, have a large number of filters and other systems that will stop you from becoming drunk … quickly, at least."

Shepard snorted. "The advantages of a fake liver?"

Miranda shrugged. "It's cloned. But it has cybernetic supports, for filtering purposes and to maintain stability. You still should not drink anything outre...such as krogan ryncol."

Shepard nodded, sipping the scotch slowly. "What do I have to do tomorrow?"

Miranda clicked her omni-tool, bringing up a small scrolling screen. "Fitting and testing of the bio-amp, installation of the bio-amp software links to both your omni-tool and your onboard cybernetics. Then tuning the cybernetic devices to the proper resonance, and checking to make sure everything works."

Miranda smiled. "After that, some armor fitting and options on how you want that set up. We'll probably need to work on your weapons as well – Jacob retrofitted your Sunfire pistol with modern thermal technology and a higher-powered MA rail, but you may want to make modifications yourself. And you will want to determine your own weapons loadouts. We also need to demonstrate some of the features of your new form and … well, as I mentioned, testing."

Shepard nodded. "And after that?"

Miranda folded her arms. "Reviewing ship and base personnel for your selection, and waiting for a signal from one of the wildcat colonies suggesting it is trouble. To be honest, Shepard, what happens is entirely up to you – you have the dossiers on possible useful recruits, the ship is ready to go at a moment's notice once we get it fully staffed, and if you chose to do something unrecommended, such as make contact with the Alliance or Council, I would provide you with various options to ensure that didn't end badly."

Shepard inhaled sharply, before taking another drink. "I'll think about it." She smiled. "I don't mind you coming around to talk, but tell Chambers if she pulls any psych shit on me she'd better be a bit more civil with it in the future."

Miranda smiled wider. "I'll be more than happy to convey that to her."

O-TWCD-O

Making her biotics work again – properly – was a trial that took up most of the next day.

Shepard had to endure an hour of 'electronervous adjustments' – which sounded like a fancy way of being electrocuted – to tune her cybernetics to the same voltages as her own remaining nervous system. Most of her spine was still intact, if supported by cyberware, and nerves had been threaded through her body, ending in nerve interface caps for most of her cyberware and a thin network of pressure and temperature receptors for the skin.

She could still feel pain – especially on the areas of her body not converted entirely to cyberware – but one of the first tricks Miranda demonstrated to her was something called a pain editor, which could selectively shut down parts of her nervous system that reported pain in the first place.

"It's not entirely safe to use, Shepard – after all, pain is the body's method for warning you something is wrong that needs attention – but if pain becomes a distraction you can certainly cut it off."

Channeling biotics through cyberware felt strange and disconnected, which she supposed made sense. At the same time, her biotics – once they got everything working right – had a lot more snap and speed to them, and the tingling burn she often felt after even a few warps was gone entirely.

From there, they moved onto testing her biotics, in a specially constructed facility in the medical wing.

Her power was also a lot more than she remembered. The best warp she'd ever thrown before her death in biotic testing had burned through two inches of steel in thirty-five seconds, and that was with total concentration on a tightly focused area. It had given her shakes and a headache for two hours and pain down all the nerves in her arm for a day.

She literally turned a three inch segment of hardened battle steel to slag in half that time and didn't even feel the effort when it came time for her to test her power, under the watchful eyes of Miranda and Sedanya. Her lift and throw capacity were not much stronger than before, but her pull was. Her barrier was much stronger, and her kanquess was even faster, and the nova it generated buckled the reinforced walls of the testing area in medical when she flared it.

When she was done testing, Trellani had shown up, dressed in a black dress with orange highlights, and spent several hours patiently teaching her a few more biotic skills she'd never known. According to Trellani, most of them were limited to the Temple of Athame, and rarely taught even to non-temple Asari, much less aliens.

The nastiest of them was the blade of force she'd seen Liara and Benezia use so handily and could never master. Her own blade was thinner and weaker, but it could still gash a heavy steel plate down to a depth of three inches.

Shepard had asked about that technique, as she'd seen Balak pull it off as well. Trellani's response was that the batarians had captured several lower-ranking priestesses in the past and probably tortured the details out of them, although based on what Shepard remembered of his use of it, he wasn't much better than Shepard herself. Trellani demonstrated the ability to slice through a foot-thick chunk of metal with the blades of force, although it appeared to fatigue her slightly.

Trellani also taught her more about the singularity, and although Shepard's remained weak and unstable, both Miranda and Sedanya were highly impressed. "Very few non-asari can generate even a weak singularity effect and hold it for any amount of time, Shepard."

She shrugged. "Well, I certainly couldn't before you crammed me full of extras, so I don't see it as a big accomplishment on my part. This will come in handy for flushing people out of cover."

Trellani's teaching method was strange and somewhat uncomfortable, as she could somehow use a shallow link to 'push' memories – shorn of any personal viewpoints – into Shepard's head to demonstrate a technique. There was never even a hint of the matriarch's emotions or memories in such connections, and Shepard had asked, when she was resting, how much skill that took.

Trellani's features twisted into an amused smile. "It took me two hundred years of meditation and practice as an under-priestess to master the ways of the Shallow Waters. Most of the Clans rarely rose high in the Temple, and in those days my goal was to be the first not of the Thirty" – she paused, clenching her teeth for a moment, then continuing – "...to become Solarch."

Shepard nodded. "You ended up the third-highest priestess, though. And you were connected to Benezia."

Trellani sighed, an expression of pain crossing her features. "Lady Benezia was my … there is no good human word for it, but a combination of mentor and patron would fit best into your language. When she encouraged me to explore the Writings of the Temple, I did so eagerly. I suspect it was my own mastery of ancient asari language – a skill most in the Temple disdain to pursue – that lead to my own undoing. I discovered truths about the Temple that broke not only my faith in Athame, but in the Thirty."

Shepard arched an eyebrow as she waited for Lawson to finish running the results of the last tests. "And what was that?"

The matriarch's gaze met hers heavily. "Is not your soul occluded enough with the crimes of your own people, that you would hear of the failings of mine? Suffice it to say it was vile enough that I sought to flee – and the price I paid for the knowledge was the obliteration of my loved ones, family, and followers."

Shepard bit her lip. "And you ended up with Cerberus? That seems a stretch. Trusting an organization that hates aliens...doesn't seem like the best move."

Trellani's expression eased. "There are choices we all make when we are swept far out of sight of the shore, Shepard. Mine are not what matters at the current moment. I will say this – few can understand Jack as well as I do, and I even I do not know everything about him. I joined him because he offered me a way to achieve my own goals – as he has done with you."

She gestured to the facility around her. "All of this is, to him, a gamble. A gamble that you will serve the needs he has put you to. Make no mistake, human – in the long run, it does not matter whether you decide to join Cerberus or flee from it. Just by once more drawing breath and agreeing that the Collectors are a threat, you do his bidding – and allow him to focus on other plans."

Shepard frowned, and turned back to the testing now that Miranda was finished, but the words stuck with her. She knew that Harper had researched her, down to the point they knew which scars to keep and get rid of, what music and clothes she like, even just how to pitch their little offer in a way to make her likely to accept.

Did she actually have any choices in this? The anger in her head over losing Liara, the wondering about just how fucked up the Alliance was, the worry over the Reapers – and the idea that hundreds of thousands of people might be Reaper slaves already – all added up to one direction. She'd have to work with Cerberus.

But that flew in the face of what she should be doing, didn't it? She flung more warpfire, testing her endurance, as her thoughts raced.

She didn't stand for law, or the concept of law. The law hadn't done her any good, hadn't saved her. It hadn't protected her. She hated criminals because they hurt those like she had been, not because they broke the law.

Cerberus had hurt people who were weak. Even if Harper had cleaned out the ones who thought mass experimentation on aliens was nifty, she doubted he had gone entirely clean. There was a bit too much effort on giving her no real connection to Cerberus. Miranda's little history of her own activities was so clean-cut that it was clear the nasty stuff was probably handled by others. Like that hard-ass security guy, Ezno, or Trellani.

Still, opposing Cerberus – especially if what they wanted from her lined up with her own goals – just because they had done bad shit in the past wasn't a logical thing to do. She had done bad shit in the past and changed. She didn't think the same was true of Harper, but he _had _owned up to the responsibility of what Cerberus had done, even if he'd added a lot of bullshit caveats.

She moved through the kanquess as requested, as Miranda did more scans of her body, and considered. The easiest thing to do was go along with everything for now, and keep an open eye out for things she didn't agree with. Maybe she could talk to Vigil about finding out what Cerberus was really up to, or even Tali.

If they were mostly on the up and up … then she was willing to let bygones be bygones, and if she ran across Richard Williams she would crush his fucking skull and call that payment completed. If Harper was trying to hustle her, well, she'd figure out how to deal with him after she'd polished off the Broker and figured out about these Collector things.

"That's it, Shepard. We have enough data for final adjustments, now."

She nodded, and then frowned. Usually after hours of biotic exertion her nerves would be screaming with pain and she'd feel like she was starving. She wasn't even sweating now, and only felt faintly hungry. "I must have a lot more biotic reserves than I used to."

Miranda nodded, coming out of the small room off to one side of the testing chamber where she'd been running the scans and observing results. The smell of burned metal and ozone hung in the air along with wafts of smoke, and she wrinkled her nose as she walked up to Shepard. "Yes. Your node system was augmented, but the blueware means you channel your biotic energy much more efficiently."

Shepard arched an eyebrow."If the shit is that good, why doesn't every biotic use it?"

Miranda sighed. "Blueware cybernetics is often … disruptive to the body. It causes a great deal of extraneous neural and nervous feedback that must be compensated for, long term nerve degeneration that has to be repaired constantly by expensive nanotherapy, and requires a large amount of eezo. I'd say a third of the cost of bringing you back to life was merely the blueware components alone – and keep in mind that because of the blueware, you are also extremely vulnerable to things like EMP explosions and certain magnetic attacks."

Shepard nodded. "But the advantages?"

Miranda smiled. "Less use of the body's bio-electrical field, higher discrimination in biotic effects, and much greater reserves by dint of the software in your bio-amp being able to manage the field effects at all stages – generation, propagation and discharge – rather than just the last. You won't go through your reserves as quickly and will suffer much less nerve pain or feedback effects."

Miranda held up a finger. "But be aware you still need more food than normal. Your hunger may feel muted now, but we don't have a good understanding of the mechanisms behind what drives hunger sensations in high-conversion cybernetic people. If you feel hungry at ALL, consider that the equivalent of nearly starving."

Shepard nodded. "Guess it's time for a burger, then."

O-TWCD-O

Fiddling with armor and guns after lunch was more interesting for Shepard.

The base armor they'd built for her was, as she'd already seen, a bone-white set of Spectre armor, with slightly different outlines and no cape. They chose the color as it was one-eighty away from the colors that Shepard normally wore, as a way to blur her identity.

The armor was modular, and had sections that could be added or removed for various types of missions – extra shield generators, stealth packages, and the like. It was more advanced in other ways – it linked to her cybernetics, interfaced with her weapons via smart-linked wireless sensors, and had built in omni-armor generators that could cover the torso, back, shoulders and shins.

Both arms could generate omni-shields and omni-blades, and each forearm contained a powerful short-range plasma flamethrower. The suit was designed especially for her body and fit like a glove, and the HUD was actually interfaced with her cybernetic eyes.

The helmet was different – white armor framework with a mirrored faceplate shaped like a stylized skull, with a slightly longer back section. Miranda said that was to confuse observers into thinking she might be asari instead of human.

The armor worked well, although Shepard opted for heavier shielding given Miranda's earlier warnings about taking damage. The fact that someone had developed a kinetic barrier that could work with instead of disrupt a biotic's barrier power was a big shock for Shepard, but one she definitely approved of. Not having to maintain a barrier all the time would give her more power to use her biotics for other things.

The self-sealing features of the armor were highly useful, as was the built-in medical computer and real-time link to medical displays, both on the base and her new flagship. Sedanya and Miranda could even deploy some limited repair functionality remotely, from a small reservoir of nanite agents and medical omnigel in the suit proper.

The weapons lineup needed work, and she'd ensconced herself in the armory omni-foundry with a couple of plates of food, a package of cigarettes, and her notebook. Taylor had wandered up from Security and asked to watch her work, which she had no problem with. She'd fiddled a bit with the Sunfire pistol, but Taylor had gone ahead and done a very good job of getting it up to modern spec, so after tinkering with the sights a bit set it aside.

The sniper rifle selection was impressive, but most of them were too heavy for her tastes. She ended up doing some minor modifications to a turian sniper rifle with semi-automatic fire and heavy-penetration APP rounds, mostly upgrading the TeV rating by boosting the launcher accelerator rails and adding fluidic shock balancing to it.

A good assault rifle wasn't hard to find – the Cerberus techs had built up the old Mattock rifle into a terrifying new incarnation with new technologies they called the Harrier. Choked out to twice its previous caliber, fully automatic and with self-adjusting recoil dampers, the weapon was already vicious. Shepard lengthened the barrel extensively, implanting much stronger accelerator rails, and retrofitting the ammo block loader to accept much larger sizes. She adjusted the ammo caster to throw a more dart-shaped shot from the gun and increased the rate of fire by adding an additional cycler to the rail recycling system.

Taylor whistled. "That's going to have some monstrous kick to it."

She shrugged. "I'm more concerned with accuracy – full auto is nice, but the main fire pattern will be short bursts. I want them fast and tight, though – and to hit hard enough to rip up whatever they hit. I might swap in phasic rounds at some point, but .. we'll see."

The biggest project to do was upgrade her ODIN. She'd come up with a crazy idea for a new-model ODIN style shotgun before she'd died, but the technology to make it work hadn't existed back then. It still didn't, for the most part, but she could adapt a few things.

She reconfigured the entire casting system, opting for narrower but thicker wedges of uranium hexafloride, and slapped in a thin magnetic film discharge spinneret at the barrel. The wedges would still be super-heated by the ammo-caster, but they would be sliced and dispersed. They would then be coated in a thin film of phasic magnetic iron, giving them more shield-penetrating capability.

She lengthened the barrel some, adding in a more powerful acceleration rail and a fully automatic recycler. Then on reflection, she tore that down and instead went with two separate rail systems, each linked dynamically via a small hot-swap modification to increase the rate of fire.

Taylor had blinked at that. "That's...an interesting use of the rails. I'm starting to see why your designs sell so well."

Shepard paused. "Huh?"

Taylor chuckled. "I'm guessing someone told you that your old weapons officer had started a company with the people on Intei'sai, selling a handful of your designs. I think the turians made a mod of one of your sniper rifles, and the double-action pistol you invented is now the stock sidearm of the Alliance, called the Shepard." He smiled.

She snorted at the very idea. "Well, I'm glad Colms didn't end up making a big bomb, but I wonder why he got out of the Alliance in the first place?"

Taylor shrugged. "From what I gather, his big Kyle torpedo got cut in the funding appropriations. I mean, yeah, it works – we took the idea and installed the launch system on the new Normandy, for example – but the cost of each torpedo was ruinous – and the facility to compress neutronium was an expense the SA couldn't afford long-term. The technology is still there, but for the cost of five torpedoes you could built two frigates and a wing of fighters."

Shepard nodded. "So he got fed up and left?"

Taylor shrugged. "I guess. Didn't really keep tight tabs on him, to be honest, but I used the handgun quite a bit and modded some of the innards myself."

Shepard nodded, flipping to a different page in her battered notebook. "I had a lot of time on my hands and I liked thinking of new ideas. It's about the only … creative thing I did, I guess. I'm sure most women would be focused on something else."

The black man's large shoulders shrugged as he watched her layout the rail supports for the new weapon. "I dunno. I think you gotta focus on what you're good at. You're good at this and you enjoy it, so why not do it?"

She smiled as she dropped shield-goggles over her eyes and gestured for him to step back as she began spot-welding components together. "You'd be surprised, Mr. Taylor, the stupid shit I was subjected to over the years by the media. When the ODIN fiasco blew up it just added more negativity to my image, and it pretty much fucked John Oracal over and out." She sighed. "Wonder what he's up to?"

Taylor chuckled. "He financed Colms and his little company, and he's on the board, I think. There's some other patents of yours that technically he can't produce – like the ODIN – but he got a dispensation from the Alliance about a year ago to produce a version of it for Vanguards to use."

She nodded. "Well, I haven't had much chance to glance over specifics for designs, mostly looking at various new technologies." She paused to narrow the weld on one tricky section of the rail before finishing and pulling off the goggles. "I'll say that it's more about thinking about a new way to do the same shit than just throwing bigger or stronger components or rails into a housing."

She lifted the entire assembly, moving it over to the main workbench, and Taylor leaned back against the wall. "There's something to be said for big guns, though."

Shepard smiled. "I used to think that way too, until Admiral Ahern clarified some things for me." She began slotting in segments of the rail assembly into the framework of the new ODIN shotgun. "The biggest problem is that a gun that can't hit the target is useless. I used to use a lot of big guns, and I wasn't real effective with them."

Taylor nodded. "Maybe so, but the game has changed for you now. You have the arm strength of a krogan and the targeting software to compensate for feedback and recoil."

She nodded. "True, but the big guns aren't going to be as useful to me in the situations I expect to be headed into. I doubt I'll be involved in large scale battles where I need suppressive fire." She scratched her head, and then on a lark, pulled out two more components from the cabinets under the foundry workbench.

Taylor blinked. "...you're adding an omni-bayonet to the shotgun?"

She grinned. "Sometimes you go with what a master tactician tells you. I built a custom ODIN for Ahern when I got training with him, and he wanted an omni-bayonet on it. Maybe it will come in handy for something."

Taylor shook his head, folding his arms again. "I'll withhold judgment on that, but it sounds like sticking a flamethrower on a dreadnought, ma'am."

She laughed. "That's what I said!"


	8. Arc I : Usual Conspirators

_**A/N**:  
_

_I was working on this chapter in conjunction with the other chapter. I finished up last night when I couldn't get to sleep to due to pain.  
_

_This chapter jumps around to cover some different players. As AlwaysKnownAsMatt has grumped about, some of it is infodumpy - when my head is not so foggy with painkillers I can try to clean it up. Originally I'd hoped to include some of this into ATTWN but the changed structure of that didn't allow for it. _

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

* * *

_'The only truly limited commodity is time, for it can only spent, never purchased.'  
_

_\- volus Book of Plenix  
_

* * *

"Still playing the silent routine, huh?"

David Anderson sat quietly in the padded room, reading a copy of the Bible, unaware of the observers watching him through the ceiling of his cell.

"Yes, sir. No changes today. Woke up, ate, an hour of isometric exercises, read the Bible for two hours, took a nap. Woke up for lunch, more isometrics, and is now reading the Bible again."

The AIS agent on the haptic screen on the wall of the observation room frowned, his dark brown eyes narrowing in thought. "I suppose I should be thankful of that. Another four months, and we'll have had him long enough to get the Commissars to sign off on memory readjustment."

The man in the observation room merely gave a shrug. "Given his exposure to the information in question, I'm not sure why we went this route. When Admiral Chu learned from Kyle about the project we didn't go through this rigmarole, Mr. Parker. I know I've asked this before, but I'm afraid at this point I'd really like to know WHY we've kept him locked up like this when he clearly isn't crazy."

Parker tilted his head. "Ethics at this late hour, Doctor Barnes? After your long participation in other, more unsavory things?" His voice was amused, but had an edge of irritation to it.

Barnes snorted. "Not at all. Ass-covering and curiosity. I have a Red Note from the Lords of Sol authorizing me to do whatever the AIS tells me, but I still would like to know so that I can have my own story straight if this blows up. I've been involved in some very dicey elements of certain projects and I am not about to walk blindly into whatever you people have planned."

Parker smiled coldly. "Very well, Doctor. To answer your concerns, Admiral Chu did not manage to contact anyone else before he was apprehended, instead attempting to verify what he'd been told. We went in and did the mind wipe before the idiot in charge even bothered to try and find out who had told Chu about NOVENSILES in the first place, and thus we had no clue about Kyle's knowledge until much later. We're not making the same mistake twice."

Parker leaned back slightly in the chair barely visible in the small haptic screen. "It took us a good six months to monitor everyone Anderson could have told and see if we picked up anything. After that, we could have altered his memories, but the call was made on high to avoid doing that. They spent three months trying to break the man with truth serum and got nothing out of it, but the cover story we gave – complete mental breakdown – isn't something people get over in a few months."

Barnes arched an eyebrow. "So we're keeping him locked up to fit a cover story?"

Parker smiled. "We've genned up recordings of him ranting and raving, claiming Shepard was assassinated by the asari, or other such nonsense. Faked up brain readings of severe mental imbalance. Suggested that his alcoholism of earlier years may have played a part. The best part was that his fiance had been away, busy with her new job on Grissom, for the past couple of months – she ended up blaming herself for 'not seeing the signs'."

Parker leaned back a bit further. "The man demolished a good portion of his house and broke two fingers in his hand when Shepard died, then drank enough to give himself alcohol poisoning. A bit of careful poking around in his history shows he had a similar drinking fit when Shepard had her little incident on Torfan."

Barnes compressed his lips. "Hence why you wanted the reports I was giving on his mental state and the signs of liver failure. Interesting. And since Alliance law requires two years of monitoring and conventional therapy before we try neurochemical adjustment – "

Parker nodded. "Exactly. When he comes out of it, he'll have lost his memories of anything much past Shepard's death. In case he left himself some kind of notes or hints at what he found on the omni-tool, we have left it in his possessions at his home – but removed all the incriminating things except oblique references to the already discredited L2 project. The alterations will also include a subconscious mental command to report to the AIS anyone who contacts him and mentions certain keywords – such as NOVENSILES."

Barnes gave a brief, cool smile. "I wish you'd told me about this aspect of things earlier. I could have been of some assistance."

Parker shook his head. "We couldn't risk it – there was every chance there may have been some infiltration of the Institute by outside parties, and the security review took longer than expected. Even so, the only reason I'm telling you all this now is that you'll have to change up the next few weeks of mental reports to show he's getting worse, not better."

Barnes nodded. "I understand. Assuming he makes no alterations in his activity, should I go ahead and prepare the alteration programming now … or wait for a court date?"

Parker hesitated. "Go ahead and have everything ready to go, but we may want to get a court order and talk with his fiance first. The appearance of doing things by the numbers, after all, is the best way to avoid suspicion. I trust that, if they wanted to see him in person, you could administer something to unbalance him?"

Barnes snorted. "I could make the poor man foam at the mouth and try to kill anything he sees with the drugs and techniques I have on hand, but they might actually cause real damage to his mind if used for extended periods of time. I can guarantee, though, that he won't appear sane to anyone who sees him for a span of at least two hours."

Parker nodded. "Good enough. Get that ready and I will contact you again in a week."

The comm-link faded to silence, and Barnes shook his head, glancing one last time at the image of Anderson, quietly reading the Bible. Out of curiosity, he had the monitoring system zoom in, and saw that he was reading the Book of Job.

Barnes gave a slow smile at that.

O-TWCD-O

Donnel Udina sat in his luxurious office, rubbing the small of his back and wishing very much he could be anywhere else at the moment.

With a grunt, he sat back squarely in his chair, staring with undisguised distaste at the two people in expensive suits sitting across from him. His voice, when he spoke, was cool and distant.

"Senators, I assure you I have a full understanding of what the Addison Administration thinks it wants. Thankfully, I don't answer to said administration. What I very strongly doubt is if said administration understands the larger costs of following through with the stated ideas you've put forward, or the consequences they will produce. I am not going to undo the work I've done in the past few years on short-sighted political stunts."

Senator Jelia Stephens quirked her perfect lips, her dark green eyes gazing at him almost in amusement. "Then who exactly do you answer to, Councilor Udina? Do you think you are somehow above the lawfully elected representatives of the Systems Alliance? The woman who gave you that position is dead, and the President who affirmed it is a disgrace. The party you once championed holds less than five percent of the vote – and falling. Your job is to represent humanity, not push your own agendas."

Udina smiled thinly at her. "Your words, Senator, only drive home my point. Allow me to explain why you are so very wrong and ill-informed. First, I answer to no one but the President of the Systems Alliance. That much is Council mandate. You can have the President relieve me of my job at his leisure, but I suspect you have already tried and failed to win over President Huerta with your errant stupidity. He has, no doubt to your chagrin, upheld most of the policies President Windsor started – and dislikes the concept that the representative of humanity to the Council is beholden to the whims of the electorate."

His voice rose in pitch. "Second, your 'economic plan' is political suicide. Raising tariffs at this juncture would violate the agreements we reached when we were given additional allotments under the Treaty of Faraxen to expand our ships. Violating those would induce claw-backs in our fleet size, which would not only cripple our shipbuilding industry and military industry – throwing millions out of work – but would generate counter-tariffs from the other races. I can assure you they would place these tariffs on goods we cannot produce ourselves, causing additional economic decline that would far outstrip any gains from tariffs."

The second senator snorted. "Udina, haven't you been paying attention? We don't want a big fleet. And we don't want the big military companies wasting on tax dollars. If that means we have to choke the beast using extreme methods, we will."

Udina gave the man a narrow smile. "Which lets me know, Senator Dawkins, that you have not the slightest idea _why_ there has been such a run-up in military spending. You two may have had the intellectual capacity to note that every other Council race, even the volus, has increased military buildups in the past two years."

Senator Stephens nodded warily. "Yes, we have. But the core platform we champion still calls for reductions in useless military spending. The geth are almost broken, Councilor, and still we are burning GDP on the fleet when our own colonies suffer. What other races do is hardly our concern."

Udina rolled his eyes. "Senators, you do not possess the security clearances required to understand why a military buildup is continuing – by all races. The Prime Minister does. If you insist on pushing through these packages in the Senate, I suspect you will find that many other parties will band together to stop such a push because they are not as short-sighted, and that the Prime Minister himself will oppose your packages."

They both frowned, and Udina continued. "But perhaps most importantly, the reason I'm going to dismiss everything you say or want is simple. You people, if you are lucky, will hold your offices for ten years. If you make a bollocks of the economy and enrage our fellow Council races, you will simply retire from public service, and make vast fees selling your so-called 'experience' to gullible PICs and selling memoirs and speeches on the extranet. I, on the other hand, will be expected to clean up your messes. Sadly for you, demanding that I accede to your demands without offering me either a compelling reason to do so nor having the power to enforce your demands lets me know that you are basically desperate."

He smiled narrowly. "So unless you have anything to offer to convince me, the door is that way."

Senator Dawkins folded his arms. "You are making a big mistake. Huerta's numbers are down, and he won't be re-elected, that much is certain. And Terra Firma will not forget your intransigence in the future."

Senator Stephens, on the other hand, was giving Udina a speculative look. "You are far too canny a politicians to dig your heels in like this without a reason. You know something."

Udina's smile flickered into something almost gloating. "Suffice it to say, Senators, that one advantage of being in the position I am in is that I have a more unrestricted level of access to the High Lords of Sol." He leaned back. "Your party will attempt to force a procedural vote on the budget adjustments for the Systems Alliance military next month – everyone knows this. You have the votes to win, the Secretary of Defense is in political trouble and the Addison Administration feels it can do a cabinet reorganization, come out stronger in the polls, and move its agenda."

Udina shook his head slowly, and withdrew a piece of paper from his own suit jacket. It was thick card stock, elegant and a dark, feral red, with finely scrawled calligraphy upon its surface, along with a heavy wax seal. He laid it on his desk and inclined his head. "You will find, however, that your agenda has failed to take into account one source of disruption."

Stephens paled. "A Red Note from the High Lords?"

Udina folded his hands together. "Understand, Senators – I did not have to divulge this information. I could have happily let you build your little coalition, make your edits, push your package – and watch you get humiliated on live broadcast. The main reason I'm letting you know this is because I do not want the other Council members to even hear of this … idiocy your political backers have pushed."

He tapped the note. "The second reason is that we don't necessarily have to be at total loggerheads. Some of the Alliance Blue members want the existing funding for the Navy and Marines re-purposed to provide protection for wildcat colonies. If you focus on slashing that ridiculous concept, you will still achieve significant savings – and in a way that does not trigger a tariff war, endanger our security, or irritate the Lords."

Dawkins frowned. "That will alienate some of our own voting base. There's a lot of concern about these missing wildcat colonies."

Udina scoffed. "We know what happened – pirates. The entire Traverse is now full of more of them than ever. I've long mandated the wildcats were going to be a drain with no return, and if they are now paying the price for demanding 'independence', then good riddance." His voice hardened. "More to the point, I would suspect the majority of your constituents are more concerned about reducing the budget than where such reductions happen, given they live on Sol and pay the highest taxes."

Dawkins opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as Stephens touched his hand gently. She inclined her head to Udina. "We'll have to consider all of this very carefully, Councilor. We will be in touch once we have decided upon a course of action and conferred with our colleagues."

She stood, and Dawkins did as well, departing after a few more empty pleasantries. Once they were gone, Udina cleared his desktop before savagely tapping a button on his commlink panel.

"Amanda, no more visitors today. If anyone asks, I'm occupied on a fact-finding mission and out of the office until tomorrow morning."

His public relations secretary's perky voice was apologetic. "Understood sir – but you have a call on line five. The secure line."

Udina frowned. "Alright. I'll take it." He tapped the comm panel. "Udina here."

The voice that sounded out of the panel was smooth, an almost exotic feminine vibrato. "I trust our information was timely and useful, and our gift had the intended effect?"

Udina scowled, and tapped a control to trigger his security fields in the room. "Yes, although the idea of forging a Red Note remains utterly insane. And I still don't know who exactly you represent, Ms. Brooks."

The woman known as Ms. Brooks gave a gentle laugh. "As I said in our first communication, we're simply concerned citizens who are a bit more savvy in our grasp of how galactic politics works. Derailing that package was critical to maintaining good relations and continuing the military buildup. And as we both know, the day that build up will be needed for more than geth is always getting closer."

His eyes narrowed. "I agree. But most 'concerned citizens' are not capable of knowing what the opposition parties are planning, or being able to forge a Red Note so well that my own detector thought it was authentic. Nor do they have access to the level of security required to know why the buildup is occurring. I am not ungrateful for your assistance, but the fact that you will not identify who you represent is very concerning."

Brooks gave an amused sigh. "Councilor Udina, I ask you to simply have a little more patience. In a few weeks, we will need a favor from you. It will not require you to compromise your position, utter any public statements, or commit any direct actions – merely to listen to someone for a few minutes. At that time we will be willing to explain who exactly we are."

Udina frowned. "Which is all well and good, up until the point this may turn out to be some kind of stunt pulled to frame me for corruption."

Brooks sighed, this time in a less amused fashion. "Councilor, all we've asked you to do so far is turn down bills attempting to reduce the SA military and acts that would alienate – no pun intended – the other Council species. In return we've provided you with a great deal of useful information already, information that you've used to bolster your position and win favor from the asari Councilor, the quarians, and several powerful Senators. There is nothing illegal in what you've done or said – you were careful not to actually say the note we gave you was an actual Red Note, after all."

Udina pursed his lips. "So, in other words, I should trust you blindly." His voice was sarcastic. "That is not exactly something most experienced political operators at this level of the game we play tend to indulge in, Ms. Brooks."

Brooks gave a trill of laughter. "No, I don't suppose it is. I can lay your fears to rest in one regard, however – you'll have a visitor in a few minutes. He happened to be in the area on other business, but I thought seeing him in person could lay rest most of your fears. He can answer a few questions. For now, we'll contact you when we have more information."

As usual, the commlink cut out on her end, and a moment later he got another message in his inbox, giving him a new TTG number to call the next time he needed to talk. Whoever he was talking to had excellent operational security – his one attempt to trace the given TTG number had revealed it was out of service, and when the C-SEC agent he'd asked to look over the number tried to run a trace on who had used it or what had connected to it in the last thirty days, the fact that the number had been used by Udina didn't show up.

Given that the TTG system was routed through powerful computers on the Citadel itself that supposedly protected even Spectre-class communications, that worried Udina more than a little. He

sighed.

A quick glance over the news boards revealed nothing was happening that was out of the norm. More riots in turian space by batarians. Outbreaks of some kind of plague on Omega. Another idiotic stunt by Aish Ashland.

For the most part, the past two years had calmed a great deal from the chaos at the time of Shepard's death. He recalled that with a pang. He found himself often wishing Shepard had not died, if only to hear her irreverent and Neanderthal take on politics. The fact that she'd so studiously been researching the courses on politics he'd suggested to her before her death had often lead him to wonder what she could have become if not for the tragedy that claimed her life.

The geth had paid for what they had done – although conspiracy theories still abounded that it had been Aria, or P., or the asari, or the volus, or even bitter Alliance soldiers, who had really destroyed the Normandy. The fact that most of Shepard's people were now missing or refused to serve the Alliance had raised more than a few eyebrows over the years, and the fact that von Grath would go to such lengths to recover her body had started a truly ridiculous rumor that the two had an affair.

Udina hated the media sometimes. He was thinking about how to deal with his next unhappy meeting with Westerlund News when his secretary lit up his comm-panel.

"Ah...Councilor? I know you said no more visitors...but...there's a Commandant here, requesting to speak with you. He says it has to do with …. a Ms. Brooks?"

Udina paled, but sat up straight in his seat. "Send him in, Amanda." He blanked his desk, and exhaled to steady himself, hoping he didn't look nervous. Commissars made anyone with a brain nervous, and a Commandant was even worse than a regular Commissar.

It was times like this he truly understood why Anderson had become an alcoholic.

A few moments later the door opened, and the heavyset form of a Commandant strode through. Udina recognized him instantly as he stood to greet him.

"Commandant Chisholm. How may I be of service?"

Chisholm's scarred face twisted into a smile, as he glanced around the office. "We've both moved up in the world, I see. I'm here because a mutual friend wished to assure you that your recent communications and actions with them were on the level and that this whole thing wasn't some kind of setup."

Udina nodded slowly. "The … information I've been given is very high level and not available to most groups outside of the Ministry or the very upper echelons of Alliance Military command – neither who have any reason to support me. And some of what I've been given is … unorthodox in nature. You can understand my concern, I'm sure."

Chisholm laughed. "Then let me put you at ease. The elements you are dealing with are well known to me, and this is in no way, shape or form some kind of operation designed to frame you for corruption or drive you from office. Ms. Brooks happens to be affiliated with the Alliance Military, and the information you've been provided has in some cases come from Commissariat or AIS sources."

Udina's eyes narrowed. "And why am I being fed this information?"

Chisholm walked across the room. "Councilor, the past few years have been extremely disturbing in some ways to certain elements of the Commissariat. A President was nearly killed , two cabinet administrations have fallen. A major political party was found to be corrupt. Some of this could have been prevented if the Commissariat had a freer hand, but our powers and actions are sharply limited by the Court of Lords."

Chisholm paused, looking over his shoulder at Udina. "And frankly, some of the actions we've been told not to act on in the past few years are troubling. If we have to employ unorthodox or irregular channels to counter these … shall we call them _problems_ … then we will. You are one such channel."

Udina folded his arms. "I see. You suspect the High Lords do not wish to continue the military build up?"

Chisholm's smile turned wintry. "Let us say instead that we've found evidence – evidence we can't act on – that some of the Lords may be taking a stand the Commissariat feels is unwise. We can't directly oppose them due to our own conditioning, but the nature of that conditioning will not let us merely fall silent and do nothing in the face of a clear and present danger to the Alliance. Hence..."

He gestured at Udina, who nodded slowly. "A curious – and frustrating – situation to be forced to deal with." The sharp gray eyes snapped up towards the Commandant. "And who else is involved in this little action of yours?"

Chisholm chuckled. "For now, Councilor, we prefer if you only know the barest amount of information. Like Ms. Brooks said, in a short amount of time someone will be in contact with you, someone who will explain a great deal more – and show you something that will change the entire political equation. But until that point we merely ask you help us maintain a positive status quo."

Udina nodded slowly, and the Commandant smiled widely. "In that case, Counselor, I will take up no more of your time. Go with the Grace of our Father." He stepped out of the office with a brisk pace, and Udina leaned back and exhaled.

"...another shit-storm. Wonderful."

O-TWCD-O

In a different, more elegant part of the Citadel Presidium, Barla Von considered the numbers before him carefully, his mind working hard.

People often assumed the Shadow Broker's true power was the network of spies, informers and assassins he wielded, operating all across known space. And, to the brutish sort of valuations practiced by those not volus, there was probably a certain truth to that. But that was only part of the Broker's power. The other half of the equation was the Broker's skillful influence, manipulation and understanding of economic markets.

No military construction would happen without a flow of resources and capital. A new project to gather intelligence would need expenditures of cash and bases set up to operate from. Expanding trade routes, colonization plans, new merchandise coming to market – all of these had subtle but noticeable effects on the galactic trade system.

By watching certain companies, by monitoring trade lanes, by keeping an ear to the merchants and free traders, the Broker had often gathered intelligence missed by more conventional intelligence agencies. It was not as if these agencies ignored such things – merely that they rarely had specialists who had the sort of penetration and resources the Broker did.

Barla Von had long ago learned the two halves of the operation fed one another, providing useful information that the other side could build on. It gave the Broker not only unmatched insight, but powerful amounts of income and capital to work with and expend on various projects.

And to Barla Von, it really all came down to money.

There were those who sneered at capitalism and commercialism. It was, of course, never those who profited from such, nor those who could take advantage of what capitalism offered. Ultimately, it was criticized by those unwilling or unable to improve their own lot in life, and who demanded someone do so for them.

Among the many differing reactions of alien species, that impulse among the underclass to hate their more successful betters was almost universal. Only the turians could be said to be free of it, and that was more due to their bizarre outlook on 'values'.

To Barla Von, every _thing_ – skills, abilities, materials, land, people, information – all of these things had a value. And anything with a value had those who would value it more highly, or less highly, leaving the possibility of a profit.

To rail against the inequality of the system as empowering those with the most money was pointless. History – of all races – was filled with stories of those who'd come from nothing to build up vast fortunes and power. While it was certainly true that power tended to flow to the hands of those most capable of wielding it, that didn't exclude it from anyone with the will to succeed.

From what little he understood, Matriarch Lidanya had come from nothing and was now rumored to be the choice for the heir of the most powerful of the Houses of the Thirty. While some societies were less egalitarian – the salarians and batarians in many ways, and humans in some – no race barred the chance to advance, to be successful with one's own skills, to anyone.

Therein lay what so infuriated those who had no power. It required both hard work and the ability to improve one's own self. Barla Von remained convinced many of the so-called 'unfortunates' of the galaxy lacked such an impulse.

Some argued they had no chance to gain useful skills – with no money and no opportunities, how could they? Others argued the old saying of 'the rich get richer' as if that were some kind of bad thing. Ultimately, no one wanted to face the ugly reality of life – some people were successful, others weren't.

Expecting some sort of divine hand to lift a person who was unsuccessful up to where they could be was the worst sort of indulgence. There were a large number of out of work batarians now, shuffling about the Traverse. They wanted 'living assistance' from the Citadel, because they'd been driven from their homes and had nothing.

Did these fools think that handing them cash would solve anything? They would expend it all and ask for more. A few batarians had banded together to start various companies – mercenary bands, manual labor groups, repair teams – and had already begun to prosper. Those who simply sat in refugee camps and demanded someone fix their problems for them never would ascend to power or wealth.

They did not have the proper mindset.

The quarians were an excellent example of this kind of crippled thinking. Their communal ownership of everything of limited availability rendered the very concept of an economy into a mockery, more controlled by tradition, by posturing and popularity, than by talent or even need. This left them completely inept when it came to suddenly being forced to deal with galactic economics and produce a functional economy that relied on more than barter and 'the needs of the many'.

Pagh. Useless eaters. Barla Von could admire a hard-working manual laborer, after all – they were quite often the foundation of the wealth the worker's betters would build. One could not sneer at the working classes, because without them the rich would have no tools to build wealth. But there was a long walk in the cloudbanks from that and pandering to the incapacity of some to see that not everyone could be on top.

He tapped another series of spreadsheets, making minute adjustments to an equity package, and refocused his thoughts.

He understood, on a purely intellectual level, why some felt this way. It wasn't a particularly volus way to look at the universe, of course, but he could do it. The volus placed value on everything, and never formed a real government of any kind. Everything was for sale, and laws were mutual agreements that everyone found worth supporting. Early volus history had its share of conflicts and troubles, but the volus had never undergone the kind of convoluted gymnastics other races had to justify why they acted as they did.

Above all else, Barla Von prided himself on being an excellent judge of both innate and potential value. Something that was seemingly worthless now might have future value, or value in the eyes of parties not yet aware it was for sale. Those who rejected such a world view could never hope to compete meaningfully with those who embraced it.

The turians had dominated the volus for centuries by dint of pure military power and force, by having greater technology and a wider market of goods, and by being critical to the stability of the Citadel governance scam. The asari were the economic and cultural muscle. The salarians provided science and intelligence. The turians were the manpower and firepower. The system was balanced, albeit precariously, as each could do significant harm to the other.

The humans and quarians threw that equation out of balance. The quarians were inept traders and hopeless at managing money, but they were fiendishly spartan and had a long acquaintance with making do and stretching value. Their technology was often radical or even unorthodox, but it worked. And the communal nature of their culture, for all its drawbacks, had one keen advantage – they saw themselves as apart, and took no sides.

The humans were less predictable. More than once they'd surprised him with innovative ideas in science, trade, or even military tactics. Their grasp of economics was beyond laughable and their government was the most curiously twisted mix of central planning and free-market he'd ever seen, but it worked – for what the humans wanted it to do.

The re-balance of the Council had a curious effect on the volus – they had a chance to finally wiggle out from under the thumb of the turians. Pulling out of the turian markets entirely and throwing cash into the quarian markets had, of course, destabilized the Hierarchy. The asari had stepped into help, albeit with caveats and loans rather than actual assistance, but the net effect was the turians were unable to bother with trying to control the volus due to internal conflicts and economic issues.

The drawback was simple: the volus still didn't have the muscle to impress other races. And no matter how much Barla Von hated the idea, the galaxy was only going to be impressed with military power, not monetary power. The addition of the vorcha to the Vol Protectorate had paid off, but that still left the volus with a need for a command-tier of soldiers.

Mercenaries were not a dependable option. They could be bought, true – but that only meant they could be bought again by someone else. They needed an option for flexible, innovative soldiers who owed the Volus something and would be loyal when trouble came. And VDF was simply too small – most volus did not have the interest or aptitude for combat, especially ground combat.

To obtain such, Barla Von was going to have to give away perfectly good money on a black hole of an investment.

Given his beliefs, it was with a great deal of innate distaste that Barla Von viewed the proposal in front of him, an offer from an non-Alliance human banking concern. The various wildcat colonies that seemed to always flow out of human space were being pressured by many things : rampant piracy, a hostile Alliance, stricter enforcement of Citadel regulations on unlicensed trading, and of course, the handful of colonies that had been mysteriously vanished.

The financial supporters behind these wildcat colonies were mostly extremist groups. Outre religious systems, intra-racial elitists, cults and worse. Few if any of the wildcat colonies existed on anything but a bare subsistence level, their so-called capital of Horizon only having any development because it had once been a real Alliance colony.

As a result, their finances were less than stellar. However, the latest batch had, through some convoluted swindles and less than reputable elements in organized crime, managed to set up a banking concern. The so-called Freedom Frontier Bank was designed to allow wildcat colonies to pool resource and leverage investment income into their fledgling colonies.

Barla Von was going to dump a great deal of money into this money pit, against his better judgment, because both the Vol Protectorate and the Shadow Broker wanted him to.

The volus reasoning was clear. If they could convince these humans to join the Vol Protectorate, it would extend Vol space by a fair amount – and give them unrestricted trade lanes into the Traverse. While some volus merchants were wary of Aria, she'd stabilized her power in recent months to an impressive degree, aided by the actions of both the Sisters of Vengeance and the strange vigilante known as the Archangel.

The Broker network had been nearly decimated both on Ilium and on Omega itself, and attempts to rebuild it had only wasted time and money. And lives, he supposed, although that wasn't as bad as losing money. The long and short of it was that it looked as if Aria's empire was gaining permanency, and the volus weren't about to ignore an untapped market. If they could even obtain slight discounts on Aria's eezo, reselling it to the quarians at a markup would generate enormous profits.

But in order to complete such things, they needed secure trade lanes. Hence, supporting the wildcats. The volus lack of government oversight – and their hatred of the kind of arcane tax thievery the Alliance practiced – would allow the volus to hopefully convince the wildcats that throwing in with the Protectorate could only benefit them and not cost them their precious personal liberty.

If the wildcat colonies could also provide an officer tier for the volus-vorcha forces, humanity had proven quite formidable when it came to war. Such an added value would offset almost any cost. Barla Von disliked it but could understanding the reason. Risk mitigated reward.

The Broker's reasons for wanting the investments made were more … difficult to grasp.

Barla Von did not know much of what the Network did. He found it both unwise and frankly disturbing to be involved in most of the operations the Shadow Broker conducted, and after dealing with crazies like Tetrimus, Wrex, Tazzik or his old security Chief, Shields, had long ago decided the majority of the Broker's agents were all extremely terrifying and rarely if ever asked them questions about where exactly the money he made for them went to.

The less he knew, the less value he had in the eyes of those who might wish him harm, or to capture him. His security was elaborate, multi-layered and vicious – but as the saying went, the unseen pit is the one that kills you. He preferred to keep his interests firmly on the financial sides of things.

But even he knew the Broker had some kind of knowledge about the strange vanishings of human wildcat colonies. Six had vanished – and each time, the Broker had pulled agents out just days before the vanishing. Barla knew this because he'd paid for the transports and lodging of such agents.

So, if the Broker knew who was behind the colonies vanishing, why invest in them? The property rights were murky enough as it was, and all six of the empty colonies were under heavy Alliance lockdown. Already there were murmurs that the Alliance would auction the worlds off, but none of them were worth much. They all required heavy terraforming, weren't that mineral rich, and the only value most of them really offered was that no one else wanted the places.

Still, speculating wouldn't change anything. He finished his adjustments to the package and sent it off to the human bankers. It was a large financial assistance package, with multiple riders attached of various economic and financial incentives for responding in a certain fashion.

The most basic was just a few million credits, as a 'goodwill and charity' gesture. If the bank would agree to convince wildcat worlds to accept diplomats and observers from the Vol Protectorate, though, more credits would be added, as well as a line of low-interest credit good towards purchasing survival equipment, foodstuffs, and bulk materials.

If the worlds actually fell inline with and accepted Protectorate rule, a rider of fifty million credits for 'colonial development and defense' was attached. The Vol Protectorate would dispatch ships to protect wildcat worlds – both from conventional pirates and 'unwanted Alliance tax piracy'. They would use their financial clout to attempt to influence Alliance policy.

The biggest part of the package, though, was contingent on the Freedom Frontier Bank actually joining the Vol Court of Corporations, and to allow volus investment on the worlds as formal colonies of the Vol Protectorate. In that case, Barla Von had been instructed to push out interest free loans and grants, as well as materials 'offerings' and shipments of security mechs, defense infrastructure, and terraforming equipment.

Final value? Half a billion credits.

The Broker had put up a third of the money – through intermediaries and front-companies, of course, operating on the Vol Court of Corporations. Elkoss Combine had put up half, seeing a large market for selling all manner of survival gear, weapons, ships, and more.

But Barla Von remained troubled by small details deep within the package. Unlike most volus contracts, which featured heavy claw-back penalties for breaking the agreements, and risk-mitigation features designed to pad and break bad investments, this one had no investor protections.

There were also large insurance packages taken out on the loan balances, but not for the material goods. In essence, it was nothing more than a huge, unlimited, no-strings-attached handout – something that flew in the face of every volus concept.

Never give away anything without a return in value.

It troubled the volus banker for two reasons. First and more dire, it suggested someone either had some information he did not about the situation, or that someone had been given bad information. Either way, he was dealing with a situation where he couldn't accurately access risks. If the situation was somehow a net benefit, he would miss out if he didn't also invest right along with everyone else – but then again, if it was designed to fail, he would lose money short and long term.

Both were intolerable, but the second thing that bothered him was not just the Broker's involvement, but his mystifying statements about why he was doing it. When he'd been given the assignment, he'd questioned both its necessity and value, and the Broker had answered in a short phrase.

"Risk is only an issue for those who fail to know what they are doing."

That implied that – as usual – the Broker expected to profit no matter the outcome. But it didn't mean Barla Von could profit as well.

He supposed, as he finalized the transmission, that in this instance, not knowing meant he couldn't be sure of what would happen. Adding his own investments to the mix might pay off, or they might not – but if the Broker was gambling that the colonies would be destroyed, then the Broker was attempting to weaken the Vol Protectorate.

Barla Von understood very well the dangerous position that put him in. As one of the High Proctors of the Vol Banking System and a chair on the Vol Court of Corporations, he had a fiduciary and even patriotic duty to inform the Vol Protectorate that they might be playing into a trap. On the other hand, he had no proof – and betraying the Broker would only end in extremely rapid death.

With a sigh, he leaned his stout form back into his chair, musing quietly. The idea of missing out on a lucrative investment opportunity irked him badly, but so did blind risk. He would wait and see, gambling on the outcomes that made the most sense, even if that boded ill for his people.

O-TWCD-O

In the storm-racked night of Ilium, Tazzik stood over the twisted, broken corpse of yet another Broker operative, grimacing at the mess her corpse had made of the expensive carpet.

Behind him, a Broker ops team was spreading out, looking for clues. Waste of time, in Tazzik's opinion – the Sisters hadn't fucked up so far, they were hardly about to start now. Their latest kill, that of a critical information broker and investment mogul, Tynasa Eresil, was pretty much the death knell to the Ilium operation.

Tynasa was a clanless asari who'd built up a fortune in junk bonds, quack science, and convincing foolish humans she could give them 'biotic oneness' with some crazy mix of siari, red sand, and mind-altering substances. One part cult leader, one part salesperson, she'd built up a media empire and a brand that was sold across asari and human space.

Her investments and business cunning were legendary, and she'd long ago seen the profit in joining forces with the Broker. Below Tetrimus, Tazzik, and Barla Von, Tynasa was possibly the most powerful of the many Broker agents in the entire network.

Now she was a twisted wreck, dead – along with her human lover and most of her security team. Tazzik lit a fresh cigar and glanced over at where the techs were scanning the melted hole in one wall.

"Anything?"

The lead tech, a male quarian, spread his hands. "Nothing of note, Master Tazzik. As usual, software shows no penetrations, but physical examination of the hardware reveals it was definitely hacked. Someone breached her security systems and wiped all the data before deactivating the cameras – and the killed the backup generator before cutting the main power."

Tazzik walked around the ruined corpse gingerly, gazing at the wall. "And this?"

The asari next to the quarian tech sighed. "Warpfire. Whoever is doing this is incredibly powerful, there's vaporization patter on the corpses. They struck hard and fast with a paralyzing nerve agent – it wasn't effective on the two turians outside, both were killed at close range with some kind of very high-powered shotgun blasts. From the constriction, I'd say they were hit with a stasis effect first, then basically executed point blank."

The asari gestured to the bodies. "The two guards, Cina Tynasa, and her paramour were probably unable to move. The attackers melted the wall, shot the two guards – heavy pistol, clean kills. The human female looks like she was an unintended casualty – she must have been leaning against the wall when they vaped it."

Tazzik took in the nearly bisected and hacked corpse. "And a warp sword for Tynasa. They don't usually butcher their targets this way."

The quarian nodded. "Bruising on the arm where Mistress Tynasa's omni-tool bracelet would have been here – they took it. It's possible they interrogated her and something she said infuriated the killers. Other than that, again, nothing. No traces of any kind of biological matter. No camera pickups. No one saw anything. Nothing on the traffic net. They boosted an abandoned car and drove it nearby, then drove it to a deserted area of Westside. The car was doused with some kind of mix of oxidants, hydrogen peroxide, and home-brew black nano – by the time our people got to it there was no telling what had been in the car."

Tazzik nodded , blowing out a cloud of smoke. "That means the only remaining high-level agent on this world … is me." He gave a small, amused smile at that, while the team looked around nervously. "Very well. Set a fire. Bribe the police, call it an electrical fire and that everyone was overcome by smoke inhalation. Suppress any kind of rumor that the Sisters were behind this."

He turned away, stepping through the luxurious rooms of the palatial estate Tynasa had built for herself, absently wondering if he should stick around Ilium or pull up stakes. Without any other agents on world, managing data traffic and reports alone would take up all his time – and he was never good at that sort of thing anyway.

The weakness of the Broker Network was the need to maintain absolute communications security. The LINK, by its nature, couldn't be hacked or traced. It was a vast system of various point-to-point laser communications links, connected at various points with FTL drones using one-time pads and a complex algorithm for what messages routed where. The LINK itself scrambled all routing information and relied on possession of specialized hardware linked with carefully protected orbital satellites and deep space beacons to confirm a valid user.

The bottleneck was at some point, the LINK had to have a direct connection to HQ. For years, that had been routed through Ilium, given the masses of data traffic and comms signals to bury any Broker traffic in. When the Broker had made the decision to being moving out of the galaxy, the world the Broker Flagship orbited had changed, and the hub of communications now actually routed through Irune.

That move had occurred less than twelve hours before Old Silver had died. Tazzik could not help but think that couldn't be coincidence. He'd tried several times to point this out to both Tetrimus and the Broker himself, but had been ignored.

A common trend, since the debacle at Omega. Tazzik rubbed his replacement shoulder as he walked out the front door of the richly decorated mansion towards his waiting aircar.

Tazzik's mind was agile and clever, but he'd never been like most salarians. Bred as part of a special program to create super-soldiers, Tazzik was the only survivor of an egg clutch of six hundred. Seen as a fundamental failure, he'd been slated to be converted to Shieldbreaker fodder when the Broker had expressed an interest in the project, and had ended up sold into his service.

The long conversion into the killing machine he'd become had taken years, but Tazzik didn't mind. He wasn't raised as a salarian. He didn't share their viewpoints, their outlook on life, or their love of sneakery and spying – although he, like most of his people, was not a bad hand at such. Tazzik had been raised under the tutelage of a being that gloried in power, combat, and superiority, and he took those lessons to heart.

Along the way, he'd come to enjoy the challenge of killing the unkillable, stopping the unstoppable, and all of that. Fear and terror were his tools – that and the sheer brutality of his kills. For years, the Broker had approved of his bloodlust, and given him marks and targets to engage in it.

In recent years, though, he'd seemed to lose the Broker's favor – even before Omega. Tazzik was best in situations where he had a single, straightforward goal and no complicated side factors or elements to deal with. Capturing Okeer had gone poorly from the get-go, and going after Cerberus data caches had nearly gotten him killed fighting the Odd Couple. And then the stupid fucks had shown up again on Omega, this time with a party of Dancers and Shepard's entire fighting force, plus the Black Blade of the Vasir.

He loved a good fight, but he wasn't ever going to be able to fight off that kind of bullshit by himself. Of course, Tetrimus had – and made it look easy. The only reason the stupid old bird had gotten hurt at all was in explosion near his ship when he was getting away.

Tetrimus, for all his power, was still a crippled old freak. He was mocking and dismissive, so secure in his own power that he tended to see everyone except the Broker himself as a lesser being. Maybe the experiments and cyberware had driven him crazy at some point.

Bottom line, though, Tazzik wasn't going to pretend he was invincible or immortal. And he was not ashamed to admit when it came to running around in the shadows, there were others better suited to the task.

With that though firmly in place, he commed the Broker once he was secure in his aircar, headed back to the central facility he tended to operate from on Ilium. The transmission was baffled through half a dozen cutouts before being tight-beamed to an orbiting FTL booster, and then flung across the comm nets towards Irune, and from there to the system the Broker's flagship was in now, hiding in yet another storm-racked gas giant.

"Report."

Tazzik squared his augmented shoulders and gave the Broker the rundown, including what the forensic techs had said. When he was done, the Broker was quiet for several seconds before speaking.

"Ilium is now a complete loss. There are still forty seven mid-level and almost a hundred information level contacts, but these are useless without coordination and oversight. Inserting new level 4 and 5 contacts has been stymied at every turn."

Tazzik nodded. "The way I see it, boss, the only target left, really, is me."

The Broker's basso rumble was even deeper than usual. "That is not an acceptable outcome. These Sisters have proven to be extremely competent. You are not especially protected against biotic attacks, as you learned on Omega. If you were overpowered and captured, the results would be unoptimal."

Tazzik puffed on his cigar. "I was actually pretty much thinking the same thing. If this was that Archangel nut, I'd stick around and take my chances. But these two don't fight straight up."

His voice turned sly. "But I got a good idea on ow to make this whole messy egg pile into something that will let us break even."

The Broker said nothing for a second. "I am surprised you are not protesting. Proceed with your idea."

Tazzik glanced out a window at the purple-tinted skyline of Ilium, then cleared his speaking passage. "The Sisters are out to kill you, boss. That's been what's on the notes the whole time. The only chance we ever had to take them out was either trace who they were working for or set a trap. And every time we set a trap, they knew."

The Broker's growl was impatient. "This is obvious."

Tazzik's smile grew. "But here's the funny thing, boss, something I think you and the old bird overlooked. You've been assuming the whole time there had to be a leaker, or a traitor. Then why the fuck are they on Ilium and not Irune? They can't trace you from here unless they capture me and take me alive, then make me talk. And I'm not stupid enough to know somewhere in all this fancy crap you've installed in me is a killswitch if that happens."

The Broker's voice rumbled more softly. "Is there a point to this conjecture?"

Tazzik puffed again. "I don't think they're trying to trace you from here at all, boss. I think they're trying to draw someone out. They take out everyone supporting me till it's just me. What's my most likely move, facing a pair of biotic broads who like to strike from stealth?"

The Broker was silent, then spoke. "You would withdraw off world. You would not be fool to move to anywhere secure...and I would dispatch Tetrimus to deal with the situation. I was already planning to do so."

Tazzik's smile turned into a full blown grin. "Yes. And doing that is just what they want. Taking me out is hard. I don't doubt they could get the drop on me, but in a one-on-one fight I can handle just about anything. But like Omega taught me, biotics don't play by my kind of rules. I've got enough anti-biotic toys that I might ruin their day, but a pull at the wrong time or some kinda freaky barrier shit that knocks me off a tall tower and I'm fucked."

He put his cigar down. "So I bail, the old bird comes in. He's his usual self – walking around all badass, banging his cane, basically calling them out. What the shit is HE gonna do if they have some way to nullify his biotics?"

The Broker was silent for several seconds. "Then what do you advise?"

Tazzik exhaled. "Like you said, this location isn't salvageable short term. With the Network so torn up, the Thirty are making inroads every day. They're already pitting the factions of the clanless against each other, and buying up properties like crazy. STG and AIS too. Given what we know, it's not worth trying to rebuild here."

He inhaled. "But if we could figure out some way to make 'em think Tetrimus was coming, set it up as a trap, then we'd have a shot at taking them out. And I don't mean a conventional trap, I mean something big and ugly, like a fusion plant explosion or 'accidental' kinetic bombardment."

The Broker mused on this for several seconds. "The drawbacks are considerable and lengthy, and if my original surmise is correct, and they have an agent in the Network – or are part of it themselves – then they will no doubt find out."

Tazzik's smile didn't fade. "That's why we can't be the ones to set up the trap. I'm thinking someone like the Shifter should do it, move people in under the cover of setting up shop. Don't put any details on the Network at all, just that we're going to be 'reorganizing' and that I'll be pulling up stakes to oversee bullshit on … " He paused, thinking, then shrugged "...Bekenstein or some shit. Let Tetrimus drop a few hints to the lower-levels here he's gonna try and run down the Sisters."

The Broker's voice was the low grinding sound that was amusement. "And when they go after him, a massive attack to destroy the entire area. That has all the trademarks of your tactics. I can think of improvements, but the basic concept is sound. How long will you need to extract from Ilium?"

Tazzik thought about that. "The Sisters usually spend time researching each hit, it looks like – and I don't follow a pattern of where I move. I'll upload all my files tonight and be ready to move in the morning. If you gen up a flash clone of me and slot it with a walkabout chip, slap it in a set of bulky armor, and get it here in a few days, they may not even realize I'm gone."

"A very expensive decoy."

Tazzik leaned back. "It keeps them here. I really don't want these bitches running to some other op we have and shredding that like they did here, or worse, linking up with that nut gutting people on Omega."

The Broker rumbled. "We may have a potential solution to the Archangel problem shortly, due to the plans of our allies. I'll speak of it more when you return to the ship. For now, implement closeout procedures and do a completely level nine purge. Also, how many female asari do you have on your personal staff?"

Tazzik blinked. "Four. Why?"

"Execute them all, tonight. Just in case." With that the Broker disconnected, and Tazzik sighed.

O-TWCD-O

"The situation has stabilized in the past six months, although there are still issues to be worked out to provide a more final closure to this distasteful incident."

The voice of Thana T'Armal echoed across the Temple of Athame, as she stood in the middle of the Council of Matriarchs. Dressed in shimmering blue and black silks cinched tightly at the waist, draped in a heavy black shawl, she looked more drawn and tired that Uressa T'Shora remembered from the last meeting of the Council.

Even so, her voice was still strong. "The economic hardships suffered by the Alliance, the pullback of their government into more staid isolationism, and the recent xenophobia demonstrated by their Ministers, has meshed well with our demands for tighter immigration controls. Last year, almost seven hundred thousand clanless ventured into the Systems Alliance. This year, only fifty four thousand have done so, and the so-called 'Alliance asari' are not as open minded to the idea of continued immigration after that pack of Triune cultists was found on Watson."

The various matriarchs murmured, a few gentle touches of hands on wrists or subtle motions of siari rustling the quiet of the chamber before it fell to silence again. Thana's eyes narrowed as she gazed upon them. "The resultant trade concessions and reduced flow of humans from the Alliance to our own borders is but a short term effect, one we can reverse in the fullness of time. The Exodus movement is over, the … unstable elements of society removed from our harmony."

Matriarch Wesha T'Cathus, one of the youngest of the Council, stood to speak, and Thana inclined her head regally. "Our thanks to you, Highest, for your leadership and council in this dark period. But I am reluctant to dismiss the storm as over merely at the calming of the tides. The core reason the clanless fled from our unity into the morass of ever-shifting values and the fractured culture of the humans cannot be chalked up to mere economic distress."

Thana folded her arms. "I am aware of this. However, at this time, I see no better course of action than what we have planned, which is incorporation of human populations in our own worlds in the short term, slowly weakening the Alliance in the long term to become a vassal state."

Wesha bowed, but made a sign of siari disagreement. "While this strategy was decided in the fullness of council, the problem with such a plan is that it requires the humans not to leverage the asari who have joined them and taken up their ways."

Matriarch T'Vurth gave a low snicker. "That shouldn't be a problem. Humans are fascinated with us."

Wesha smiled. "This is true. But my sisters, the case can also be made that the Alliance has proven it can defy our expectations in large ways. We expected they would buckle after gracious Matriarch T'Shora saved them from the turians, but they recovered their footing. We expected them to merely become technological vassals, but they have instead made great leaps in technology on their own and in combination with the turians and salarians. We expected them to be powerless pawns, yet they are now on the Council. It seems … unwise … to assume our current plans will follow our expectations."

Matriarch Yulsanis T'Purice, ancient and older than any of them, stood slowly. "We have seen many things we did not expect in the long dance of years under sun and moon. Yet as always, tides end up upon the shore – where else are they to go? The humans are unpredictable – but only in the short term. In longer spans, they are very easily predicted. Their masses want security, the obliviation of responsibility, comfort and entertainment. Their rich want status, influence and admiration, their leaders want to remain such and to safeguard their own elevation. They are not like us. They do not sublimate their needs for the good of all like the turians, or even the harmony of all as we do."

The old matriarch coughed, then continued in a slightly stronger voice. "Thana's plan relies on the greed and short-sighted fixation of humanity. In time, they will want to come here – especially as their government tightens its grip in the face of problems. In time, the asari there will become less mysterious because they are familiar. Humans are creatures of adventure, of sensation, and of belief in their own destiny – the idea they are being steered is nothing that occurs to the masses."

Thana smiled. "Precisely, wise Yulsanis. It may take fifty years or a century, but eventually they will cling to us all the tighter for the short separation. They cannot trust the salarian. The volus have already delivered the turians into our hands and are now probably going to economically backstab the quarians, who are divided and powerless in any event."

Wesha shrugged and sat back down. Swallowing, Uressa stood, politely waiting for Thana to acknowledge her before speaking. "Beloved sisters, the plans and wisdom flowing from this Council is, as usual, deft and sinuous. But I fear it ultimately steers us to a path that is destructive to our unity. Humans should be beloved cousins that we nurture and provide protection to, not utilize for their value at stabilizing the clanless."

Thana sighed in irritation, but this time it was Matriarch Iasela T'Vaan who spoke. "Again with this argument? Matriarch Uressa, again I remind you – it was your personal decision to take the Second Fleet and stop the turians. To defy both this Council and the Citadel Council in that action. Your compassion does you great credit, but you are deliberately ignoring the truths that lay bare to the rest of us."

The old matron folded her arms. "Humans are lead by a corrupted mirror of the Thirty, who haven already proven willing to inflict almost turian levels of self-destructiveness in the name of 'stability' and 'justice'. Their Commissars are even more dysfunctional than the most twisted Justicar, and their system of governance locks most of their people into paying taxes for benefits they can't even use. They are going to eventually do something stupid and the Council will have no choice but to sanction them as we did the krogan, or even the rachni – and then it will be too late to save them."

T'Vaan huffed. "Better that we take them under our caress now, even if that robs them of their own choices and paths, than let them take the wrong ones. I did not let my daughters choose their own way because they lacked the wisdom to do so. Why is this any different?"

Uressa folded her own arms. "Because we are planning to subsume them, to make them into little more than a caste of sexual pets and military fodder? Because we are willing to risk them turning against us and becoming the spear-tip of the salarians or even the turians if the humans figure out our intentions? I will not belabor the point that the humans deserve better after proving their valor and bravery at the battle of the Citadel, or bleeding alongside the turians to stop the geth while we observe."

Thana held up a hand in a sign of siari calm. "Your points are taken, and heard, Matriarch Uressa. We did not come to this decision without a great deal of discussion, and your objections have not changed. And if the humans had been content to follow along the path we wished, such an accommodation would very well be possible."

Her voice hardened. "But I do not forget for a moment that that Trellani is still out there, still in possession of knowledge that could turn the entirety of our own race against us. The Broker is convinced she is now allied with Cerberus – and may have been for some time even before its alleged destruction. The convolution of certain economic markets, not to mention the actions of Hades, prove well enough it is not dead ."

Thana lowered her hand. "I make our reasons plain and bring this up only to restate the course we have already set. The Exodus has stopped. Our task – to stabilize the clanless, to rebuild the power of the Clans, to widen our own numbers – is the next step. Increasing human numbers in our own worlds is a part of that step."

She smiled. "There is always time to reconsider longer term actions and plans for the Alliance as a whole. No one is suggesting that we disenfranchise our cousins. Their inventiveness and drive may be a boon to us in the long term once we make adjustments to their culture and outlook. But to suggest that we simply stand away and let them flail about without our guidance is cruelty, no matter how kind the intent may be."

Uressa nodded, but still stood. "Your words are taken at face value, Sea Lily, but one question still remains, one you yourself just implied – what if Trellani tells them what we plan? Will we then turn aside from this ideal?"

Thana gave a serene smile. "You, of all people, should pray that never happens. If it does and the humans become a liability, they will have to go the way of the krogan. Our job – the holy task of the Thirty – is to guide and protect the asari, and ensure we are supreme – not other races, not even our cousins."

Thana's voice was hard. "As the Writings say, if there is that which taints the waters, it must be cast upon the shore, lest all be poisoned."


	9. Arc I Ending : The Butcher

_**A/N**:  
_

_Medical condition is improving but not fully recovered - nerve pain is still there. Plus, my mother may have lung cancer - thankfully, it was picked up on a routine scan to make sure she was fully over her previous cancer and they think they can deal with it with little trouble. Still, it has left me occupied and distracted.  
_

_I needed to go over some of what was in Shepard's head, but I'm not 100% happy with the way it turned out. At the same time, it's pretty much the best place to end Arc I on and move on with the actual story. Given that it took quite a while to even put this together I am not sure when the next chapter will come out. _

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

* * *

_'Now we're being hunted on Omega, on Ilium, and in open fucking space?'  
_

_\- Captain Thtek Erala, salarian 'organ facilitator' for Eclipse_

* * *

After spending a day hurling biotics, modification of guns and armor, and then hours going over personnel reviews, Shepard retired to her quarters to listen to music and try to sort herself out a bit.

She wondered, as she lay on the extremely comfortable bed in her rooms, if she was still in a sort of shock or not. Surely, after realizing she'd lost not only her life, but that of her wife, some of her best friends, and hearing that her government was adrift and her father figure was in a nut house, she should be … affected.

She should be a weepy, useless wreck. Instead she just felt disconnected. As if she couldn't make herself believe it was real. The venting she'd done her first night 'awake', after seeing that horrible video, had just left her feeling empty.

The rage was there. But not the depth of sorrow she should have felt. Was that a good thing?

She sighed, closing her eyes. Thinking about it wasn't going to change anything.

The door chimed, and she sat up, brushing her hair back with one hand and stepping out of the bedroom into the main area. She glanced at the clock, it was just past 2300, and frowned. "Come in."

She didn't know who to expect, but it wasn't Kelly Chambers. The psychologist walked in, wearing a black Cerberus jumpsuit, and glanced around. "Evening."

Shepard frowned. "What do you want?"

Kelly gave her a thin smile. "Coming to check up on you, see how you're doing, and making sure you're adjusting. Miranda seemed to think you were okay, but she's got her own issues and wanted me to double check. So I thought I'd run through some things I wanted to go over with you...ask some questions. That kind of thing."

Shepard sighed. "More shrink bullshit? I figured you'd be along sooner or later to pick my brains, but it can wait until the morning."

The redhead shook her head. "No, not really. I mean … Shepard. You _died._ If you're going to stand here and tell a trained psychologist that you're hunky dory with that then I have to wonder if we didn't fuck up somewhere in fixing up your brain."

Shepard gave her the tiniest of smiles. "Maybe I'm not fine, but I don't really feel like telling you about my dreams and shit right now. The last time we talked you decided to call me out on not trusting you guys, as if Cerberus was all about cupcakes and flowers." She folded her arms. "Color me skeptical."

Kelly tilted her head. "Look, I'm sorry if I pissed you off when we first met, but that's my job."

Shepard gave her a hard look. "Your job is to piss me off?"

Chambers shrugged. "My job at that time was to engage you emotionally – which I did. You were, and in some ways still are, in a state of shock. And not to be a bitch about it, but you've spent a lot of your life hiding behind mental defense mechanisms, and we don't have time for that right now. A lot of what I do is useless if I'm not overt with it. It's not going to help you if I'm just observing, because you have this tendency to internalize your emotions and refuse to engage in constructive self-analysis. Some of what I do will probably always piss you off because you don't like psychologists."

Shepard nodded sourly. "And why should I? Most of 'em were fucking useless, and they weren't exactly trying to make me feel better after Torfan."

Chambers sighed. "I won't argue that. Most of the psychologists and psychiatrists in your life so far were only there to play CYA for your mental state in case you lost it completely and shot a civilian or something. They couldn't address any of your issues because you were a Z."

Shepard folded her arms. "Yeah, Jiong explained that to me. But at least when he talked to me about how I was doing and felt, he didn't try to fucking guilt-trip me."

Kelly's lips twisted in a smile. "Your Commissar, huh? Let me guess. He ran some kinda jazz on you about how 'psychology works', a bunch of feel-good BS about how you adapted as well as could be expected, and pretty much never called you out on anything? Never called you out on the situation with your wife, or your entire world-view?"

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "He gave me advice. I found him easy to talk to. He didn't insult me the way you do."

Kelly shook her head again. "Goddamned Black Hats. Look, Shepard. I'm not going to piss on the man and say he was telling you a lot of what you wanted – or needed – to hear. But I'll say he didn't have any more vested interest in fixing your problems than the earlier pack of mental health workers did. They – the Alliance – wanted you stable, and later on, in a semblance of being happy. You're smart enough to have figured that out on your own."

Shepard was silent a long moment before nodding.

Kelly's bright smile split her features as she continued. "Well, that's not the same as helping you. It's like dealing with pain from cancer by numbing the nerves rather than fixing the problem. It will make you feel better but it sure as shit won't save your life."

Shepard walked over to her desk and picked up her pack of cigarettes, lighting one. "And you're different how? I can't imagine the Illusive Man is very concerned about anything but my ability to do the job."

Kelly leaned against the wall. "And your mental stability is part of you being able to do your job. No one has done this before, coming back from the dead – and let's face it, right now you have more on your plate than that. The mess with Commodore Anderson, the fact that your wife and several friends died, the ugly things you found out about the Alliance." She folded her arms. "The Illusive Man would be stupid to assume you can deal with this sort of thing and remain perfectly stable."

Shepard tightened her jaw, then took another puff of her cigarette and blew it out angrily. "So you think I'm going to flip out?"

Kelly shook her head. "No, I don't. I think – in the short term – you are basically repressing a lot of feelings, emotions, and internal conflict. I'm different from the docs who worked with you before because I'm not locked into a certain way of proceeding or doing things, and I'm not hindered by someone telling me how to make sure you react."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "The Illusive Man doesn't care how I act?"

Kelly waved a hand. "If you tell the Illusive Man to kiss your ass and walk away, or if you join the Dog – that's not any of my charge and has no impact on what I'll be working on with you. You have to be free to make the choices you think are right – now, and in the future. Using psychological tricks on you to make you agree with the goals of Cerberus won't work forever, and the very first thing the Alliance would do once you expose yourself as being alive again is attempt to 'break our brainwashing'. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Bottom line, Shepard, is that I'm just here to help – what forms it takes will be up to you, after I explain them."

Shepard folded her arms. "That sounds good, but what exactly can you do to help me? Laying on a goddamned couch and talking about my feelings isn't going to do shit."

Kelly sighed. "I'll level with you. There is a big difference in stopping you from falling apart and actually helping you get better." She adjusted her position."The methods I use are focused in a different direction than modern Alliance psychological theory. They're fixated on quantitative methods – lots of testing, data-gathering, theory making and statistical analysis."

She made swirly gestures with both hands and a silly face and Shepard smothered the impulse to grin. "Oh, it all sounds impressive, but they're only looking at people in abstract. Nothing is tailored to personal circumstances – everyone is expected to fit the mold, and the psychological stuff the Alliance does is never changed to fit the person. The stuff I do is always designed first and foremost to complement both the patient and what the patient wants for an outcome."

Shepard puffed on the cigarette, thinking. "Go on."

The redhead lifted one hand in a measuring gesture. "I, on the other hand, use different approaches, and tailor them to you specifically. You have trust issues, security issues, and emotional issues. You don't need me to lay you out and have you tell me about your dreams. You need clear advice on why you are going through what you are, and you need someone you can talk to who will give you practical, useful and most of all meaningful options and ways of dealing with the aftermath of … well, dying."

Shepard inhaled, blowing out smoke. "And what if I'm not interested in opening up my head to you, Chambers?"

Kelly shrugged. "I guess the bullshit answer would be you don't have to. But we both know that's bullshit. If you don't want to listen to me, then you can sit here and wonder just why in the fuck you feel empty and why you aren't a goddamned crying wreck, smoke and drink and chit-chat with the other anti-social rejects like Lawson or fucking Ezno, and do your thing. When the shit you've just gone through finally all hits you, given that you have the psychological stability of a volus at a ryncol drinking contest, you'll probably have a good old nervous breakdown."

Shepard hated the smug look on the doctor's face, but the fact that Kelly had nearly picked out exactly what Shepard was indeed feeling was pretty impressive. But that didn't mean Shepard wanted to go along with it. "If you're so smart, why am I feeling that way?"

Chambers pushed off the wall, walking past Shepard to take a cigarette out of her pack, then pulled out two glasses from the small table next to the desk, pouring scotch into each. She talked as she worked. "I could throw a lot of technical lingo at you, but the blunt way to put is is simple. Your mind doesn't want to admit it. It's a mental defense mechanism. You don't even know how to grieve, in a lot of ways, because in your mind you never had anything you valued before – so you don't know how to process losing it."

She handed Shepard the scotch, and sat down on the couch. Shepard eyed her a long moment before taking a drink. "Sounds like bullshit."

Kelly sipped the scotch with an appreciative smile before lighting the cigarette. "I think you had a fear of losing things – the respect of the people important to you, the trust of the Alliance – but you never lost anything really until Torfan. That pretty much destroyed you for weeks."

Shepard stiffened. "I'm not really wanting to talk about that."

Kelly shrugged. "Of course you don't. That's your mantra for everything that your mind can't fit itself around. Shove it down, ignore it, pretend it doesn't hurt. God fucking forbid you actually let yourself cry or someone might think you're not a robotic slave."

Shepard's hand tightened around the glass for a split second before she caught herself. She took a deep breath. "Is this supposed to be helping me?"

Kelly gave her a direct look. "Shepard, no matter what anyone has told you, the only thing I can do to help you is get you to _admit your own issues_. You have lots of them, and since you never had anyone you could actually trust who would help you work through them, you just try to shove them in a box."

Kelly puffed on the cigarette. "Newsflash, honey – you leave toxic materials in barrels long enough and they could start to leak. That's pretty much what is happening here. Leave aside that you died. That your wife is _dead_, your friends are _dead_, your father figure is in an insane asylum. Leave aside the fact that you had crazy literally crammed into your brain, that the first real friends you had tossed you away, or that everyone in your life – from the slavers, to the gangs, to the Alliance, to your wife, to even us, has used you."

Kelly gave her a sad smile. "Ultimately, even without all that, the biggest problem you have is that in order to function, you had to lie to yourself a lot. Almost every day. You had to tell yourself nothing hurt when it did. That you could endure, when you really couldn't. You lived in constant fear of rejection and failure because you never understood WHY the few people who believed in you did so, and worst of all? Even the people who cared about you the most didn't bother to understand that you needed to know why they cared, why they loved – otherwise you were sure that you'd fail them somehow."

The psychologist shook her head sadly, and took a shot of the scotch. "You can't process everything right now because your mind doesn't even know where to start. You never mourned your parents when they died, because they were pieces of shit – and that is how most people learn to deal with the passing of loved ones. You never had 'normal' relationships, so you had no grounding on how to deal with your wife – or her loss. All you can do is basically lie to yourself that you can handle it – and you can't."

Shepard was silent as the redhead continued. "To be fair, we all lie to ourselves. We lie and say being lonely doesn't hurt because we have to lower our defenses to achieve intimacy, and we get hurt when we do. We lie and tell ourselves that happy people are stupid, that optimists are delusional, and that we can make our own way, when none of us can really do that without going crazy or being a sociopath. But in your case, you've had to lie to yourself...about pretty much everything, for as long as you can remember. You never had a baseline to work from."

Shepard looked away. As much as what Kelly said stung, there wasn't any double talk or dishonesty in her words. "And you can fix all that?"

Kelly sighed. "Fuck, no."

She took another long slug of the drink, and Shepard frowned. After a moment, Chambers spoke again. "I won't lie to you. Even if I had ten years and you cooperated fully with me, there's always going to be damage. You don't have a functional outlook on friendship, really. Your mind is so conditioned to being double-crossed that your only real criterion for trust is not being double crossed. Your sexual issues are a complete mess. Then there's how you look at yourself. At best you're a high-functional social autistic, with a persecution complex and a penchant for rationalization of anything that conflicts with your worldview."

She folded her arms. "I could go on and on, but cataloging your problems won't do you much good unless you can process a method of either accepting or changing who you are. Accepting who you are means you have to stop lying to yourself. Changing who you are means you have to learn to deal with the damage and move on. I can't 'fix you' because you aren't' a machine. I can give you advice, and I can suggest goals to move towards – but you have to make the choices, and do the work. And ultimately – and I know this sounds trite – most of us pretend we'll magically become someone else. We say we want to be rich, or that we want to lose weight, or that we want to start a business. But we're lying to ourselves, because in order to change ourselves we have to define goals."

Kelly met her gaze. "I can work with you to help you decide what you want to do to address some of these things, but we have to figure out what you WANT to do first. A lot that process will piss you the fuck off, because unlike your Commissar I'm not going to sugar coat it. A lot of it requires you to trust me. Not just trust me to not screw you over, but really REALLY trust me, with shit you didn't even want to talk to Liara about. You may end up deciding you don't think you can handle … changing who you are."

Shepard sat down, drinking again. "That's a lot to ask for. Trust."

Kelly shrugged. "And I know that. I don't take it lightly. I already told the Illusive Man that betraying you is the single fastest way to alienate you, and I'm fully aware that in order for you to trust me you have to feel I'm worth that effort. But we can go over some other things first, and once you see what I'm doing actually works instead of just allowing you to ignore the problems in your life, maybe you will trust me more."

She drank again, and leaned back. "The first thing we need to deal with is helping you process the mess you're in right now. The process of grief and all that isn't something you can address quickly, no matter how many times people want to break it down into trite stages. Your mind has to unpack the reality. It has to deal with something that it doesn't want to deal with. Sitting here in this place, disconnected from everything, makes that hard to do. Talking to Tali and Joker may help with that, but ultimately you'll need to have it driven home before that defense breaks."

She puffed on her cigarette. "Then there's the whole mess of how exactly you're going to make it through day by day. Conventional psychology tells me that things like nostalgia, distance and time aren't going to cut it. There are multiple layers of problems with you."

Shepard eyed the woman thoughtfully. "And your answer? Sorry, it just sounds like you keep saying 'I can help you with this' or 'I can fix that' but not telling me how."

Kelly smiled. "I could bamboozle you with bullshit – cognitive-behavioral modeling, task-fixed reclamation schemes, reward and thought-model systems. It's just fucking words, though. There's two ways we can do it."

She held up her left hand, with the glass of scotch. "We can focus on getting you 'better'. We can try to slowly examine and discuss the damage you've gone though, and why it affected you. We can discuss the things you suffered, how they changed your outlooks. Why the choices you made were the only choices you knew how to take at the time."

She sipped the scotch. "We'll then explore exactly what you should be feeling, and more importantly, why you feel those things. Why your emotions react the way they do. Why people act how they act. Things that most people take for granted. Once we've done that, and you have some kind of framework of where you should be, then you have the tools to develop your own … well, frame of mind."

Kelly drained her glass with a grimace. "Personally, I don't think that's going to work, Shepard. You're not in a place where you can spend days and weeks reflecting, sorting yourself out, having weepy fits and punching shit and screaming at the universe for fucking you over. The other way we can do it is ...well, finish the patch job. Cover the things you need to get you through this mess, get you the kinds of support you need to endure, and then hope that at some point after you deal with the Collectors and Brokers we can back-track to a place where more conventional therapy and time to reflect and heal is possible."

Shepard thought over the words. "What does that entail?"

Kelly smiled, and handed her the empty glass. After a second, Shepard took it, refilled it, and handed it back. Kelly took another drink. "Goddamn, that's stuff is strong. Anyway. It's a … process. It's called rational emotive behavioral modification. The less fancy wording is that everyone has rational and irrational processes on a mental, every day level."

The slender woman leaned back again, puffing on the cigarette that had nearly burned down. "A lot of people end up stuck with things like self-blame, self-pity, shame, depression and anxiety because of their behaviors and tendencies. The traditional method of rational emotive work, therapy, tries a lot of different things to explain, educate, and work with a person to pick up on the signs of the negatives, accentuate the positives, and focus on questioning and disputing things that cause negative behavior."

Shepard nodded slowly. "Wordy but it makes sense."

Kelly smirked. "The behavioral modification version is a bit more … well, shyster. It argues that a good part of what makes our personalities the way they are is those very same irrational things. Some heroism isn't rational or positive. Some love isn't healthy or rational. Some deeply seated things like grief and honesty require very irrational mental gymnastics to arrive at or maintain – or move past."

Kelly sighed. "Rather than tear these things down, rational emotive behavioral modification uses them to prop a person up – to buttress the person they are or want to be with all aspects of their personality, both good and bad. It's often considered ethically wrong because it can take people to some really unpleasant ramifications pretty quick."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Like...what?"

Kelly shrugged. "Used correctly, it can allow people to accept their flaws and move on. Used incorrectly, it can allow people to justify their own flaws and work them into a completely fucked up ethical and moral framework. It's one thing to be merciless to those you hate, it's another to decide that mercy itself is injustice. Ardiente used it to condition the Sao Paulo Guard, for example."

Shepard said nothing for a long moment. She saw her cigarette had gone out, and lit another. Exhaling smoke, she finally shook her head. "Give me an example of what you think is wrong with me, then."

Kelly met her gaze. "Alright. A lot of people in your situation have a messed-up idea of justice and culpability. You had choices all your life once you got away from the sex slavers – you could have left the gangs. You had people who could have helped you with that. But you decided you liked the power of terrorizing others at the time – of not being the one who was scared."

Shepard grimaced, but Kelly continued in a harder voice. "And when you became a Marine, that didn't change – only the targets. Instead of the weak, like yourself, you went after those who preyed on the weak. But the reasons for that weren't just to protect others, no matter what you tell yourself. You liked their fear. You liked being strong. You pushed yourself to be the best because you didn't want to be cast away again – but also because you never wanted to be weak again."

Shepard gave her a hard stare. "So this is just about tearing me down?"

Kelly shook her head. "It's about making you face what you are and not fighting yourself internally over it. I'm not here to judge your choices in life, or your reasons. But I know that you aren't going to be able to internalize a lot of your own pain because it makes you feel weak – and a part of you won't accept that. Weakness in your mind leads to you being used again. You're accepting what we've done to your body after death so easily not because you're emotionally stunted – but because a part of you _likes_ the idea of being deathless, of being stronger."

The redhead scrubbed out her now nearly dead cigarette. "You aren't reacting to this in a normal way because you aren't normal."

Shepard didn't answer for a long moment, and when she did her voice was tired. "I don't even know. I won't argue some of what you said made a lot of sense. I never had a chance to be normal."

Chambers shook her head. "No, that's not it. You had those chances. You simply never took them because you didn't recognize them – but they were there. That's the core of your problems, this … and don't get too upset, but this self-pitying denialism you maintain. You made choices along the way in your life, and they brought you to this moment."

Chambers finished her drink. "You chose to not bother to try to understand your emotions because it hurt. Because it was hard, and because you worried if you went to Anderson or Florez with your questions they would think less of you. You let yourself be dehumanized and brutal because you liked being feared. It gave you power, when you were once powerless and helpless. You chose to go along with what Liara offered you – not because it was the best thing for her, but because you were lonely and needed someone to cling to."

The psychologist folded her arms. "Now? That's all gone. So it really comes down to how you plan to live the rest of your life. You can chose to ignore the pain and emotions and emptiness. The more you do that, the more you'll end up channeling that into every action. You can chose to face it all head on and simply deal with it. If you do that, a lot of what you probably considered changes to the person you were will fall away, because they weren't built on truly understanding yourself or fixing your issues. Or you can choose to deconstruct it and fix it, which will take a lot of time we don't have. The first is stupid, the third out of reach, that means the second is the only approach that works."

Shepard drank, then shook her head. "And this has nothing to do with Cerberus wanting to use me?"

Kelly shrugged. "I've studied you enough to know you hate being kept in the dark, hate being lied to, and hate being manipulated. I consistently advised the Illusive Man not to do those things, ever. His idea of how you should be treated psychologically was simply to keep you busy and distracted with the fight, and on occasion to expect you to fall apart. Eventually you'd come to rely on Cerberus and would be more likely to join the ranks."

The psychologist folded her arms. "I'm not going to do that to you, because it would end up hurting you in the long run. I'm not going to lie to you, or try to get you to do anything you don't understand or feel like you can't go along with. You don't have full control of the Revenant Cell because the Illusive Man 'trusts' you, or thinks you'd be the best leader for it. You have it because I recommended – and Trellani agreed – that you wouldn't work with us in any other way, and that you needed the control."

Kelly cupped her chin with both hands, smiling."You don't have to make your mind up tonight about what you want to do. Right now, the most important thing is that you know you have options, that you have help available, and that you know you can trust us."

Shepard frowned. "And how can I be sure you are trustworthy, Chambers? I mean, you admitted you studied me for a long time – you could just be saying all the things I want to hear, like this set of rooms was designed to make me feel comfortable."

Kelly nodded. "The only way to earn your trust, I think, is to prove that someone is willing to risk losing something – or everything – and not double cross you. I don't expect to earn your trust overnight with a smile and comforting words. It's up to you to decide how we will earn your trust – and that you understand that we're trusting you in turn – not to simply sell us out to the Alliance or the Council, not to look at us as disposable because we're Cerberus, that sort of thing."

The woman folded her arms. "But ultimately? The biggest change you have to make before anything else can work – no matter what path you choose – is to realize that shutting people out and distrusting them hurts you more than protects you. Freud wrote about it. The more you distrust and don't let yourself be vulnerable, the less capable you are of actually absorbing the kind of shocks and hurt that betrayal causes."

Kelly gestured to the room. "You are right – we studied you for a long time. The Alliance never bothered to do that. We made adjustments to your needs. The Alliance never did. We don't have the kind of limits the Alliance did. We didn't spend billions to bring you back to life to double cross you, or to use you either – if we'd wanted to do that, our approach would be completely different."

The redhead arched her back, and then yawned. "If you want me to show you I can be trusted, you have to set the terms."

Shepard paused a long moment, then frowned. "I'll think about it."

Kelly nodded. "And really, that's all I ask. I'm not prom sing I can make you 'better'. I can help you deal with it, and I can help you move past it." She set the glass of scotch down and headed for the door. "Depending on how you want to move forward with the task of dealing with the Collectors, let's talk about this again over the weekend. Sound fair?"

Shepard nodded, and then Chambers was gone. Shepard sat down at her desk again, eyes drifting over to the haptic image of Liara, smiling gently.

She killed the lights to the room, sitting in the dark, staring at the image of her lost wife for a very long time.

**O-TWCD-O**

After breakfast, Shepard spent most of the next morning testing her weapons and making alterations to them, before sitting down with Miranda and Chambers to select and finalize the staff selections. That process was boring but necessary, and Shepard found herself more than a little shocked at the depth of talent the Cerberus scouts had to offer.

The people in question had already been approached and recruited by Cerberus, but only very recently. And she found that, given the high level of automation, she didn't really need a lot of people to get things moving. The ships, for example, would need only a handful of people to operate.

Most of the naval personnel Cerberus had selected were hardened Corsairs who had already worked with Cerberus in the past. Shepard recognized the names of more than a few. A lot of them had gotten in hot water with the SA for being too 'brutal' in attacks and raids on the batarians, and some of them didn't have a much better track record than Shepard when it came to taking prisoners.

The Corsair program had been drawn down sharply about six months after her death, when an overzealous Corsair chasing batarian pirates had ended up getting into a shooting match with Aria's Black Fleet. Many Corsairs were now forced to merchant escort duty rather than freely flying around looking for pirates, something that pissed a lot of them off.

She ended up picking about a hundred of them. The most senior of them was Commander Ronald Taylor, Jacob's father, who was actually retired from the Corsairs but was swayed by the offer to come back and get more pirate killing done. The captains and the crews did not know – yet – of Shepard's survival. They would be in-briefed upon arrival.

Given that almost all of them were strong supporters of her actions, though, Chambers was confident they'd have few problems.

The new Normandy – as she had decided to call her flagship – needed a few more specialists. A pair of engineers Tali had worked with on the Kazan were recruited, along with a handful of ECM and technical types, including the guy who'd come up with the IES stealth system in the first place. For the most part, however, the high levels of automation meant the Normandy only needed a very small crew as compared to the Kazan or even the old Normandy.

When it came time to select marines, though, the problems were more difficult. Cerberus had managed to locate all of her former surviving marine team, but the outlook on getting any of them to work for them was low.

Senior Chief Vega had gone into semi-retirement after his near maiming in Neo Berlin, mostly focusing on training his nephew, James Vega, and getting him up to speed as DACT commander. Her own DACTs, Florez and Montoya, were assigned with now Lieutenant Ashley Williams to some kind of secret operation in turian space.

Chief Haln, Sergeant Ownby, Sergeant Haskins, and Corporal Rodriguez, her only surviving Marines from the Normandy, were still being 'felt out' by Cerberus recruiters. Most of her Marines from the Kazan were still attached to that ship, which was now under the command of Captain Delacor, who had assumed her role as humanity's Spectre.

Jason Dunn was 'engaged elsewhere', and Shepard didn't want to disrupt Baby Blue's life on Tuchanka.

There were, of course, Cerberus soldiers she could have recruited, but she didn't like that idea for lots of reasons. Nor did she want to start cold-recruiting soldiers until she could explain who she was to them, and that wasn't going to happen right away. Instead, she would use the combat mechs she had, along with Vigil's assistance, until she could figure out how to best recruit a good fighting force.

As she worked, she compared Lawson and Chambers, and how they reacted.

Lawson was coolly efficient, with a meticulous memory and a tendency towards lists. Towards Shepard she was respectful but firm, not trying to order Shepard around but determined to get her own viewpoints at least heard.

Chambers, on the other hand, was somewhat disorganized at first glance, yet somehow managed to be able to pinpoint the candidates Shepard would approve of with ease. She was far less stiff than Miranda, and seemed to have no issues with drinking Shepard's scotch while she worked. She peppered the commander with simple questions that, on reflection, were designed to make Shepard stop and think rather than just answer.

The main difference in the two was the focus of what they wanted. Lawson preferred operatives – people who thought and acted strategically. She advocated those people who had ties to Cerberus in the past, as a way to make recruitment easier. And she constantly put forth suggestions on how Shepard could leverage Cerberus.

Kelly, on the other hand, picked candidates that acted much like Shepard herself – intolerant of slavers, tactically focused, and usually with one or two quirks that Chambers said gave them leverage. She pointed out that stronger connections to Cerberus might make things go faster and easier, but could bite them in the ass in the long run. The most interesting thing to Shepard was that Chambers didn't seem to think Shepard should associate herself with Cerberus at all.

Given the bewildering and draining conversation Kelly had subjected Shepard to the night before, she found it hard to pin down exactly what kind of game the redhead was playing.

After lunch, Miranda took Shepard into the medical labs, and explained some of the more dangerous or extreme features of her new form.

"Your cybernetic systems are powered by an Inusannon power star in your lower back. For the most part, this suffices to power the myomer muscles, subsystems and internal systems that you can trigger. However, like all power stars, it only regenerates energy very slowly. That means if you overexert yourself, you'll begin to run low on power."

Miranda gestured to the set of exercise equipment in a corner. "At full power, assuming no damage to your skeletal structure, you can lift significantly more weight than a human woman your size would be capable of. Your limbs have several power settings. At low levels, you are roughly as strong as a baseline human. Moderate level has you approaching krogan strength, and 'overclocking' has you fully capable of lifting over a ton of weight. Keep in mind, however, that it's still possible to lift incorrectly and damage your cyberware."

Shepard frowned. "In my quarters, I dented a solid steel wall. What level am I normally set at?"

Miranda winced. "The lowest level, usually. However, the system is designed to respond to adrenaline production, stepping up settings automatically. You can over-ride it, but that requires manual interaction from you. This is so you don't have to try to alter settings in the middle of a fight, or when taken by surprise – but it does also mean you need to watch your anger."

Miranda had Shepard bring up her internal HUD. "Along with superhuman strength, your speed was also augmented. Some of your reflexes are now wired directly into both your cybernetic eyes and a concealed band of sensors at the base of the neck. One reason for the gray-box for your eyes is to filter the content of what you see to prevent sensory overload. You will be able to evade and dodge very quickly, as well as run much faster than before."

Miranda folded her arms. "However, like the extra strength, the more speed you use, the faster you end up draining your energy. At the highest rates of speed you can probably outrun a salarian, but you can't operate at that speed for very long."

Shepard nodded. "What happens when I run out of power?"

Miranda tapped a control on the nearby panel, bringing up a large haptic screen, busy with outlines of Shepard's body and cyberware. "The system will automatically shut off enhanced strength and speed once you reach twenty percent charge on your power star. Should you lose power entirely, your cybernetics will shut down and you'll begin to die. Most of the critical systems have short power backups, but they won't last for more than ten minutes or so."

Miranda touched something on the haptic panel. "There's also a mode the team calls 'overclocking', which I referred to before. This mode sets all your systems at full power, which is more than you can usually access. You can only operate in this mode for roughly five minutes, so you need to make it count. The overclocking also affects your sensory input, which will probably make you feel like others are moving more slowly – which they are, compared to you."

Miranda looked at Shepard. "This mode is often going to leave you debilitated. Among other things, it tends to put a great deal of pressure on the remaining biological parts of your body, and generates so much waste heat you could literally cook yourself alive if you aren't careful. Coming out of it will make you feel extremely fatigued, possibly disoriented."

She tapped another control. "Your cybernetics are, in many areas, self-regenerating. The metal itself used in them is an Inusannon alloy that somehow 'remembers' what it should be and will consume resources and energy to repair itself. However, you can only carry so much omnigel onboard with your armor and inside your body. Once it goes through that stock, it will attempt to cannibalize less important systems to keep you alive, although that tends to cause more internal damage."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "So if I take too much damage I can still get killed."

Miranda nodded. "And if enemies keep you under constant fire with no change to regenerate energy, it's possible for even weapons that would not conventionally be able to stop you to 'whittle you down', so to speak. That's not even taking into consideration that ion weapons and EMP weapons will damage some elements of your cybernetic systems."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Great."

Miranda explained how Shepard could trigger various systems – aiming modes and 'eye-gun sync' modes in her cybernetic eyes that worked with the gyros in her wrists, or how to activate the omni-blades embedded in her elbows and knees. Shepard had powered systems to provide air filtration (or even stored air, in small tanks below her lungs), and even a backup nervous system of sorts in case she was incapacitated by nerve-disruption attacks, although Miranda warned her that had even greater drawbacks to use, and could damage her biotics severely.

Shepard ate her dinner alone, in her quarters, reading documentation the medical team had prepared about her own body. Most of it was rather depressing – there was a long list of things that had unknown effects if overused, such as rapid blood regeneration or the augmentations to her nervous system. She sourly noted that she also had heat-sinks, to deal with the increased output of her biotics, and that they could overload and cause internal damage if she went overboard.

Pushing away her meal, Shepard thought carefully about how she wanted to proceed. At some point, she would have to leave the station and take action. How to present herself would be a problem – she couldn't just announce who she was. That meant never appearing in public without her full armor, and utilizing the voice-modulation it had built in.

Trellani and Miranda had both pointed out the possibility of passing as an asari, given that she could create weak singularities now, and she gave some thought to the best ways to utilize that. It gave her the kernel of an idea, and she called Miranda to have everyone meet in the morning for a briefing in operations.

Sara Shepard was dead, of course. But that didn't mean her legacy was dead. And given that she had to reach out to people who seemed to take a dim view of criminals, she knew just exactly how to act.

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard stood in operations, arms folded, as the people she'd called into the first meeting of the Revenant Cell came into the room. She thought over what she'd planned as they filed in, keeping her face calm and empty of emotions.

So far, monitoring of every human wildcat colony hadn't revealed anything out of place, and Shepard wasn't about to just sit and wait for the next colony to get hit. On the other hand, they didn't know what they were dealing with in the first place, so she had to get some kind of fieldwork in to look over the clues. Finally, she had specialists she needed to recruit, but for most of them – Archangel, Solus, and the Sisters of Vengeance – Cerberus had no contact method or hard information.

Rather than simply storm out there, she brought together her people and planned to figure out what the first move should be.

Shepard glanced around the galaxy display, and then at the handful of people standing nearby. Miranda stood to her right, next to the ex-AIS agent, Trudy, with Taylor and Ezno just to one side of her. On the left Tali and Joker stood together. Across from Shepard floated the form of Vigil. A bit to one side stood the quarian engineer, Kiala'Dost, along with her human husband, the former Alliance lieutenant Dost. Doctor Sedanya and one of the other medical doctors, Doctor Wilson, were standing next to Dost.

Shepard exhaled, and spoke quietly. "Alright, let's get started." She folded her hands in front of her. "Right now, I've decided to go along with this … plan of the Illusive Man's. However, there's some caveats, and I'm putting them up front. Anyone who can't or won't abide by them needs to speak up now."

She glanced around the room. "I am not going to 'represent Cerberus'. While I understand that Cerberus is funding and providing this entire thing, I simply don't have enough information – or trust – to put myself in any kind of position where the Illusive Man can use me as some kind of propaganda. For the duration of my affiliation, I was told you all answer to me."

Ezno immediately spoke up. "That is not correct in all regards. There is data and equipment aboard this station that would implicate some Cerberus front companies. While I have no problems taking orders that go along with the stated goals of the program, if you decide to simply turn this facility over to the Alliance or the Council, my orders are to ensure nothing sensitive or compromising remains. In that I will not take any countermanding orders from you."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "And what does this data and equipment entail?"

Ezno folded his arms. "Data manifests, communications systems, financial transactions, the QEC linking system, and some of the more esoteric medical equipment not strictly needed to keep you alive and functional. Some of this is being removed over time, and some functions are being researched by the medical staff, so that the equipment I'm talking about can be decommissioned."

The hardness in his eyes didn't relent. "Most importantly, your authority ends as far as I'm concerned once you decide to stop cooperating with the Illusive Man. The rest of these people were gathered to support you. I'm the Illusive Man's skin in the game, and my involvement outside of security will be very minimal."

She shrugged. "Fair enough. Anybody else?"

Miranda looked uncomfortable. "Shepard, I understand why you are making this statement, but your distrust of Cerberus – "

Shepard held up a hand. "Don't get me wrong, Lawson – I'm not saying I'm 'distrustful' of anything. But there's no value in me doing anything if the idea gets out that I'm working for Cerberus. There are those who will smear whatever I do at that point with your group's past actions, instead of focusing on the problem. It doesn't matter what you believe Cerberus stands for – only what the public believes. I've learned that much already, just by being branded a bloody-handed killer."

Miranda looked like she wanted to object, but Ezno nodded. "Ah. You fear the Broker and his ilk will attempt to poison the well."

Shepard didn't recognize the term, but Chambers smiled. "Yeah, that would fit. Poisoning the well is basically throwing stuff at the source of information instead of dealing with the argument or evidence put forward. If Shepard goes in representing Cerberus, the focus will be on her coming back to life and Cerberus's … views on aliens."

Tali folded her arms. "And the fact that Cerberus has aliens working for them?"

Shepard spoke. "Won't really count, Tali. I mean, we're talking two quarians and one asari – and if we're going to be totally Council-stupid about this, the first thing they'll say is 'the quarians are both exiles and the asari is a criminal'. The Council – and the Alliance – are going to look at the politics first, just like they did when I first brought the shit about Reapers to them in the first place."

Dost spoke. "Then what did you plan to do?"

Shepard smiled. "We don't know when the next colony will be hit. We don't know anything about who's doing this, and we have no hard evidence of who we would be facing. As such, I'm not planning to go charging in when one does go missing until we have a chance to scout remotely."

She tapped her omni-tool and the map shifted its perspective. "What I do know is that right now, everyone in the Alliance and Council is telling themselves this is a bunch of slaver activity, because there's a lot of slavers and pirates in this region after the fall of the Hegemony." A single system flashed. "At the same time, we have several potential issues in the region we need to look at too – one of the most useful recruits, called Jack, is in this system. Nearby, we have evidence that Okeer may be operating on Korlus."

Shepard glanced around, then continued. "Since sitting on my ass doesn't appeal to me, I'm going to kill multiple birds with one stone. I need to test my flagship, my ships, and my gear. I need to see how well these war-robots you've put together handle. So I need a live fire situation."

She touched several systems, which flashed red. "Cerberus intel tells us there are pirate or slaver bases in these Traverse systems, and at least some of the wildcat worlds were raided by them. My first order of business is to wipe these bases and their inhabitants out of existence." She smiled. "If I kill all the fucking slavers, and then more wildcat colonies vanish, it will be harder for the Alliance or Council to dismiss the vanishing as 'slaver activity'."

Shepard tapped one system. "Korlus is here, a ship recycling and hazmat processing world. Until recently it was run by the Blue Suns Military Corporation, but now there's heavy fighting on the world between elements of the Blue Suns. Details aren't clear. If Okeer is operating down there, I want to know why he is, and what he's doing. After we sweep these six bases, we'll hit Korlus before taking on two more – using the confusion and chaos to cover our movement."

She folded her arms. "Once we've taken out most of the big players, we'll stop by Purgatory and I'll talk with Warden Kuril and retrieve Jack."

Miranda spoke. "Is there a reason you decided not to attempt to recruit any of the others first, such as Doctor Solus?"

Shepard smiled. "There is. Jack has been on ice nearly as long as I was dead for, so recent events will be a blur to her anyway. But the rest won't know me from anyone else, and have no real reason to listen to me. According to the Illusive Man, this Kasumi Goto character is in Alliance space, and I have a side trip to make before this all starts anyway, so I can pick her up then. Mr. Massani is on Omega, and is conducting business of his own – he's not ready to join yet."

Shepard folded her arms. "By the time I get to Omega, I want to have already built up a reputation – not as myself, but as the person who took down the pirates and slavers. It will be a lot easier to convince this Archangel to work for us – or at least listen to us – if we can present ourselves as the people who just fucked up a bunch of criminals and slavers, not as an organization best known for cutting up aliens."

Ezno grimaced. "Are you going to run this as a military operation, then, or as some kind of cover?"

Shepard tilted her head. "I'm thinking that what I need is some kind of … message. The first few strikes I want to come out of nowhere. I want survivors, I want the story to spread, but no idea who's behind it. I want the ships we hit with to be unrecognizable. Eventually, after I crush several bases, I'll figure out how to announce that the pirates are being hunted."

She turned to Vigil. "Can you coordinate the fleet we have now and the war robots?"

The sphere pulsed. "With ease. I can also suppress the defense systems and other security features of the pirates, and conduct cyberwarfare on their systems … such as core containment or life support."

Shepard smiled widely. "The faster and more overwhelming the strikes, the better – I'll go for terror later on."

Miranda frowned. "What happens when the next colony vanishes, though? How do we respond?"

Shepard exhaled. "That depends on when it happens. If it happens before we get this off the ground, we'll investigate quietly. If it happens while we're purging the pirates, Vigil will send automated ships and mechs to check it out and secure the area. Hopefully, it won't happen until after we've crushed all the pirates, and preferably picked up Doctor Solus."

Trudy nodded. "So far, there's been about a three month gap between each strike – given the last attack was about a week and a half ago, we have time if you're quick and don't dawdle."

Shepard nodded. "In that case, we have time to do this right. The message I'm going to send will be pretty clear."

**O-TWCD-O**

It took a good week to get Shepard's forces organized, most of that taken up with producing more war mechs and doing preliminary scouting runs on various pirate bases.

A number of the pirate bases and anchorages were singled out as large enough to attract notice, but not so big that her fleets and mechs couldn't break them. Vigil was confident that with its cyberwarfare capabilities it could wreak havoc on pirate installations and ships, but Shepard didn't want any slaves or prisoners killed – just pirates.

At the end of the week, the strikes went out. She split her available ships into four groups. Two groups went out with one heavy cruiser, a pair of destroyers, and four frigates each. They would each hit two fueling stops used by pirates, before each taking out a single pirate base and falling back.

The third group consisted of the light carrier, three destroyers, and four frigates, and it was to hit a pair of pirate refit docks and slave-holding facilities. The carrier's fighters were more than a match for pirate defenses, and Vigil would ensure any slaves would be left alive.

Shepard herself would take the new Normandy, three destroyers, and three frigates and go after the trio of bases in the Ahiba system. Once she was done with orbitally bombarding those, the entire fleet would fall-back and group up near Umlor, where one of the more powerful pirate captains made his headquarters.

The entire fleet would attack that base and reduce it to ashes, then fall back through a loop of mass relays before doing a long FTL move back to a secondary relay system that would lead them back to home base.

Given that they had no crews yet, this assault would be the test of whether or not Vigil could handle the fleet solo. She made very sure to give the AI clear instructions about what she wanted accomplished, before she got on the QEC with the Illusive Man.

As usual, he was neatly dressed – a white silk suit of some kind, with a gray shirt, ribbon tie, and the ever present cigarette. "Shepard. Miranda says you're preparing to strike a number of pirate positions."

She nodded, folding her arms. "Yeah. The Council is blind, but not stupid – if we wipe the pirates out, it will be harder for them to claim the disappearances of colonies are just due to pirate activity."

The glowing blue eyes narrowed. "There has been a lack of anti-pirate operations in the past year due to the war with the geth and the fact that most of the harrying is being done on the borders worlds and independent colonies. Even so, some of the more powerful pirate commands are a bit much to take on with a pair of cruisers and a carrier."

She nodded. "I'm hitting the smaller bases first – we're going after one big target, but that's it. The big thing I want is an audience."

Jack Harper inhaled on his cigarette. "An audience to what, precisely?"

Shepard smiled. "Chambers said that if I don't plan to do this as a Cerberus operation, then I need some kind of … persona … for who is attacking the pirates, to cover our later operations. I can't just announce myself as being alive again, as you said – but that doesn't preclude me from taking advantage of my own reputation."

She tapped her omni-tool. "I recorded that earlier today. A message I want broadcasted on open channels once we drop the last pirate base."

The Illusive Man tapped a haptic panel next to his barely-visible chair, his image in the QEC flickering as he leaned forward to examine something. After a few minutes of silence, a thin, cool smile appeared on his features.

"I see. Quite the idea. Vigil can be of some assistance in making sure the message gets everywhere, and I'll have my people run this into the extranet and across several open comms networks and deploy it once you signal me to do so. Very original thinking."

She shrugged. "It was a mix of ideas I picked up by listening to both Miranda and Chambers. And besides, it's about goddamned time those slaving fucks remembered what fear feels like."

**O-TWCD-O**

When the signal hit the extranet, it was unprecedented. Something had spliced the transmission into over fifty communications networks, from the broadcast of Westerlund News to the booster signal for the Deep Space Gamma Burst Warning Network.

It played in bars and clubs, on the holoscreens in businesses and restaurants. The voice that spoke was modulated, female, deep and almost mocking.

The image was nothing more than the broken, shattered body of a batarian slaver, a warp sword shoved through his chest.

"There was once a time, I am told, when piracy was combated. A human woman, one of our lesser cousins, took to the stars to bring fire and death to those who would rape, and pillage, and enslave."

"She was brutal and she did not care how much blood she spilled, nor would she allow the criminals to escape justice. When the pirates thought they had her trapped, she crushed them instead, and then executed the guilty."

"For her justice, they called her a monster, a killer. They called her the Butcher."

"Pirates lived in fear of facing her. Slavers fled from the very hint she was in a sector. She saved lives and worlds, and asked for nothing in return. And …. as it happens, she was indeed given nothing. She was betrayed and murdered, and her own government forgot about her life to make money and propaganda out of her death."

"Sara Shepard is dead."

On far-away Ilium, Liara listened to the broadcast, jaw tight with old pain. On Dirth, a former president of the SA watched on his vidscreen, and a scarred, crippled man who was once her XO gave a faint, sardonic smile.

On Omega, the pirates jeered and the slavers snorted, and a single turian paused in his scouting of a gang hide out to listen to the strong, husky voice and its words.

"She is dead. Yet her mission, her truth, her vengeance – that lives on."

The image changed, to a real-time display of the wreckage of the pirate docks at Ratha, at shattered bases on Virtmore and Enera, to show the burning conflagration that was all that remained of the pirate city on Umlor. The whispers went silent. The jeers fell silent.

On Mindoir, savage cheers rang out. On Ilium, the markets for certain exchanges took a hit as investors pulled out of the known pirate-backed ventures.

"You have long thought you were beyond the reach of justice, pirates and slavers, criminals and walking filth. You are hunted like the vermin you are on Omega, where the Archangel slays you by the dozen, and you do not heed. You are slaughtered and driven out on Ilium, where my beloved sisters, the Sisters of Vengeance, deliver unto you what you have wrought."

"Siari says all things must balance in the end. An accounting is needed. The so-called leaders of our races, the Citadel Council, the CEOs, the military leaders – you have all stood by and done nothing as the innocent were raped and enslaved. As the helpless were murdered."

The image shifted again, to a view of the gleaming whiteness of the Presidium. "Sara Shepard died for you, and you cannot even show her the courtesy of protecting those she could not longer protect. If you will not act...I will."

"The Butcher cannot be killed, for one cannot kill justice, nor vengeance. The concept is eternal. Pirates, slavers, drug runners, cloneleggers, dustpushers – you have all been given your final warning. There will be no mercy, no chances for surrender, no arrests. Just death, as certain as the will of the Justicars."

"I am now the Butcher. And I am now coming for you."


	10. Arc II : Opening Carnage

_**A/N**:  
_

_I've been out for a bit. I will probably be out for a while longer. However, I am not dead and neither is the story. I had some time this weekend to work on this, and while I'm not 100% happy with the result, it gets the job done. I'd like to thank everyone who PM''d, reviewed and messaged me with uplifting words.  
_

_Liethr didn't beta this one so blame me for any goofs. Reviews are always welcome.  
_

* * *

**THE SECOND ARC: ASK OF THE LESSER, LEST THE GREATER NOT WISH TO ANSWER AND TURN AGAINST YOU**

_'The problem with monsters is that they rarely start that way. The forces that shape them and turn them into such rarely leave them capable of realizing what they have become, and make the immune to the sort of hesitancy of conscience that restrains the rest of us. Turning them back from the path is therefore only possible when you know why they became a monster in the first place.'  
_

_\- Benezia T'Soni, 'No Single Raindrop Blames Itself For the Flood'  
_

* * *

Shepard stood behind Joker in the cockpit of the new Normandy, silently watching as the pilot's hands moved rapidly over the haptic console in front of him, cap down and his expression focused. The ship was moving carefully through an extremely dangerous and narrow flight path, one risky enough that normally it would be left to a computer to control.

She kept quiet as she ran her fingers through her hair, absently wondering if it was going to grow or if it was as synthetic as most of the rest of her body. She never felt tired physically anymore, but she was almost weary of the rapid pace of events she'd undergone in the time since her transmission to the galaxy.

The past two weeks had been a hectic mess.

Her assault on the slavery networks that compromised the Traverse borders had gone better than she ever could have expected. Vigil was more than up to remote-piloting most of the ships Cerberus had given her to play with, after a few more modifications by Tali. If the boastful silver sphere could be taken at face value, it was originally designed to manage trillions of war droids and millions of ships, after all, so this was hardly as surprising to Shepard as it was to Miranda.

They had hit eleven targets in two weeks – pirate moorings, slaveholder stations, fueling stops – and torn apart the entire spinward border of Aria's domain. The pirate stronghold at Umlor had been completely annihilated, the only survivors the freed slaves. In every battle they'd routed the pirates and slavers, so far not even loosing a single ship in combat. And when they'd assaulted Umlor, they'd not only broken the back of the slaver's fleets, they'd torn out the beating heart of its finances.

Umlor had been the first large-scale testing of the war robots, and that had gone just as perfectly as she had planned.

She let a small, grim smile cross her features for a moment at the memory. Without any oversight from the Alliance, and with Vigil certainly not giving a damn about atrocities, she had no one stopping her from executing the slaving, pirate filth. She'd gone down in person at the end, testing herself against living enemies instead of computer generated simulations.

The landing drop had been a bit rough, and her position had been hit by nearly a dozen krogan in heavy armor. It took her all of nine seconds to kill them – seven of them with her ODIN, one with a omni-tool slash to the face, two more with kicks that snapped their spines. The last one she took a full hit from the krogan's energy maul without even staggering, before tearing the maul – and the krogan's hand – away and killing him with his own weapon.

That's when it hit her that she wasn't even close to a normal human anymore.

She'd run down a fleeting pirate on a hover-bike while she was on foot, torn the man's head off along with his armored helmet, and laughed as she leapt away, falling thirty five feet and landing as if she'd hopped down off a short step. She'd stopped a punch from a krogan with a single hand before crushing his fist like tinfoil, tearing his arm off with a tug a moment later before punching through his combat armor and splattering his primary heart.

She'd taken a direct hit from a lance cannon and skidded back fifteen feet, only to leap up, barely feeling any pain, and dash forward before the turian slaver who'd shot her could recover. She'd dodged incoming fire as if it was moving in slow motion, and she could fire her sniper rifle with one hand and still hit targets in the eye at five hundred feet – while running.

The sheer terror and incoherent panic the slaving bastards had felt helped mute the pain in her heart, and she had found herself laughing as she literally walked through the ineffective and pitiful fire of her enemies to butcher them. Gunships were too slow to hit her, and the light armored vehicle that was the last line of defense before she tore into the command center was nothing more than an irritant – she shattered the armaglass cockpit with a biotic-enhanced punch and hurled a shockwave into the cockpit, turning the interior into a blood-splattered abattoir.

There was no mercy, no surrender, just annihilation. But after the last foe was dead, when she'd returned to the base and looked over her armor, the second half of her ugly realization had hit her.

She'd taken a direct hit in the thigh from some high-ballistic rifle and didn't even feel any pain, or loss of movement. She'd melted a gunship out of the sky with nothing but hurled warpfire and her nerves didn't hurt. She'd run over forty miles an hour on foot and torn apart a durasteel security door a good three inches thick with her bare hands – and she wasn't even _tired._

She wasn't sure how to process how to feel about that. Chambers had warned her that the realization of her current state was something she still hadn't faced fully yet, but in the days since the assault she began to wonder if she was even human anymore.

It didn't help there weren't very many real people around. Shepard was still waiting for Miranda's people to bring her some more flesh-and-blood soldiers, but the augmented combat robots under Vigil's control were nasty enough that she didn't really need any more backup. Each one was so heavily armored that anything short of heavy weapons would only do minor damage, and they could use the sort of heavy weapons that a human soldier required a tripod to use.

They didn't hesitate to execute the slavers they encountered, and Vigil could at least be counted on to make her laugh with a quip or two as it mockingly killed off the slavers. But they were hardly going to rein her bloodthirsty impulses in battle in. On the other hand, it was a relief in a way to not have to worry about losing soldiers or getting her friends killed – the robots used some of Vigil's strange living metal, and unless the power source of the robot was destroyed would slowly regenerate and repair itself.

The attacks had gone well, far better than Shepard had expected. The slavers had gotten sloppy and lazy, fattened by being able to prey on poorly defended borders with most of the normal patrol ships of the Alliance and Hierarchy busy fighting the geth. They had never really expected to face down the kind of heavy ships and firepower that the Illusive Man had put into her hands.

Shepard was careful to free slaves and let a few fleeing slave ships get away, knowing they would spread the terror and fear. Her forces tore apart the border slave worlds, then took down the more important ports, and finally crushed the backbone of the slaver shipbuilding facilities. And at last, after two weeks of raiding, they'd finally identified the real target she'd been looking for.

Chresi V, the Last Stop.

Chresi V was a borderline habitable world, clinging to the ass-end of the western Traverse. A pirate port, it had grown from a mere set of hab domes to several sprawling bases clustered thickly around a ring of fortified modules and prefabricated towers. Its docks were open to all, far from the police frigates and snooping eyes of Citadel forces, while its slave market was the largest in the galaxy – it dwarfed even the batarian markets, and rivaled that of Omega itself.

Chresi V was known as the Last Stop because it was traditionally used by smaller slaver rings to drop off captured slaves and take payment, and for bigger slaver operations to buy up slaves en masse for delivery. It boasted its own HE station, and the 'lord' of the system, an aging mid-caste outcast from the Hegemony called Rythek, was friendly with many of the smaller pirate outfits. It had evolved over the years – starting out at little more than a hiding hole and place to dump charge, it had grown powerful under the chaos of the collapse of the Batarian Hegemony and the fracturing of Aria's control over her warlords. With the advent of the Geth War, many trade lanes once patrolled by turian, human or asari ships went without protection.

The pirates and slavers had done well. Chresi V boasted everything raiders needed – repair facilities, slaveholding pens, clonelegger salons, and enough raw materials to provide both repairs and slowly build new ships or overhaul those taken as prizes. Increasingly, as it sent out specialized raiders that did little else but attack resource transports, ore haulers, and the like, and more such specialists that raided supply depots on poorly guarded frontier worlds, it had become the center of pirate attacks in the entire eastern sectors of the galaxy.

The Alliance had never managed to locate the exact system the world was in, despite looking. Rythek was cunning and smart, and the only known way to get to the system was through a nasty FTL route that dipped between a binary black hole system. Pirates wanting to do business on Chresi V had to meet in the Vendra System and be approached by some of Rythak's pilots with specialized navigation software.

But when Shepard's war robots had put Umlor to the torch, they'd found one of Rythak's message boats on the world, capturing it intact. Vigil was easily able to hack the boat's systems and extract the needed piloting instructions, and now Joker was carefully guiding the fleet single file through the FTL lane.

Due to the black holes, the 'shape' of FTL space in this region was warped. No existing ship could make the FTL trip the 'long way' around the coreward approach – charge build up would have reached critical levels only half way there.

Shepard pondered on the utility of the position Chresi V held as a base of operations for her own needs, assuming she was willing to have Cerberus tow the asteroid base she had there. After thinking about it, she discarded the idea as unworkable and probably dangerous – the FTL corridor was too narrow for such a thing to work.

She refocused as Joker exhaled, his voice mostly steady. "Past the primary gravity fields. Breaching the solar wind envelope in five minutes, ma'am."

She nodded, reaching down to pick up the bone-white helmet of her battle armor. "Vigil..."

From a nearby console, a shimmering silver orb erupted into being. "Yes, primitive?"

She nodded at the cockpit windows. "Prepare the fleet. Once we're done, drop beacons so the Alliance can find this place. They'll have to handle the slaves we free today."

The sphere bobbed. "Very well. Orders for the fleet?"

She smiled behind her helmet. "You know, the usual. Leave nothing alive but the slaves. And when you find Rythek... let me know."

O-TWCD-O

"Admiral Branson, Captain Shearsi has arrived."

Branson glanced up from the reports scrolling across his screen – more news from the Geth front at Nodaxis – to nod at the ensign in front of him. "Very good, send her in, please."

He sat back in his chair, glancing around the circular room and the many haptic screens on the walls, the stations of data analysts, and the other admirals in the room. The atmosphere was tense, and despite the comfortable leather high-back chair he reclined into, he felt stiff and uneasy.

Officially styled as Alliance Naval High Command, the room was informally known as the War Pit. It was the nerve center of the Alliance military machine, tied in to the fleets, ground forces, comms systems and forward operations of most of the Alliance armed forces. For most of its existence, it performed few functions beyond coordinating large fleet movements. Certainly there had never been a need to assemble the fleet admirals and fleet master in one place to discuss strategy.

When the Geth War broke out, though, that had changed, and now the NHC was used almost weekly. The war had gone very well in Branson's opinion, despite the loss of a dreadnought and almost half a dozen heavy cruisers. More and more technology was being adapted from asari base tech packages, while the salarians had begun to market powerful computer and ECM systems. The AIS suspected the more powerful of these systems were derived from the Reaper technology they'd salvaged from Nazara.

The Alliance had made its own strides in that regard, having been given the engines – or what they assumed were the engines – of the massive war machine. While the jump drive was incomprehensible, having driven nine Manswell-Nobel scientists to madness and making a mess of physics and hyperdynamic field theory, the FTL drive was more comprehensible, and as a result the newest line of Alliance capital ships could keep pace with a frigate of a few years back.

It gave them a decided edge over the geth, whose lines had finally broken not long back, although at a heavy cost in ships and lives. Now, with the Geth War beginning to wind down and the collapse of the Hierarchy, Branson had hoped things would calm down.

Unfortunately, with the chaos in the Traverse, it was unlikely to so in the near future. And thus, the assembled officers within its walls and the knowledge that the High Lords were expecting action and answers soon pressed down on Branson's shoulders with a heavy weight.

The past few weeks had seen enough anomalous actions on the frontier to justify the High Admiral calling for a meeting of the Fleet Command, to discuss what was going on in the Traverse – namely, the actions of this Butcher – and determine if she was a threat. The Alliance had sent in multiple scout and recon teams to the area, often arriving just after they got mysterious messages from the Butcher, to find yet another pirate port blown to smithereens, horrific scenes of carnage and death among the slavers, and crowds of freed slaves that needed repatriation.

The Alliance was getting increasingly nervous about the Butcher – estimates of her fleet strength varied wildly, but just by the number of wrecked hulls and dead slavers they'd found in her wake, her fleet had destroyed over two hundred ships and slaughtered over thirty thousand pirates – not counting the hundreds of thousands dead at Umlor. There was a great deal of worry that the Butcher was the cats-paw or front of a more dangerous or antagonistic group, and the fact that the AIS had been unable to determine anything about the Butcher – or her fleet, finances, or ultimate goals – made more than one Senator from the border colonies nervous.

He cleared his thoughts, refocusing on the faces around him – fellow admirals, all well schooled in keeping their thoughts and expressions neutral. As he finished glancing around, a dark skinned woman appeared in the entrance of the room, her Indian features set in a mask of discipline and calm.

"Captain Shearsi, Fifty-Third Scout Battlegroup Typhon, reporting, sirs."

Brandon nodded, gesturing to a chair on the inside of the circular table the admiral sat at. "At ease. Be seated, Captain. I presume you have the initial scouting report from what we're seeing in the Traverse?"

The woman nodded, pulling out a data-padd before sitting down. "I do." She glanced around the table at the faces of the admirals. "I'm not sure what to make of what we have found, but at least we have some hard data now on the Butcher."

Admiral Ahern sat to the far left, flanked by Admiral Dragunov and Admiral Okuda. To Branson's right was Admiral Tyrson and Admiral Hackett, flanked by Sixth Fleet's Admiral Rogeti.

Branson glanced over his notes. "That is good news. Very well, Captain. Proceed."

Captain Shearsi tapped her padd, bringing up her own reports. Her voice was cool but firm, with only a hint of a British accent to it. "Yes, sir. The Fifty-third scout battlegroup Typhon was dispatched on long-range reconnaissance to the Western Traverse to scout and find information on the Butcher. We were in the process of examining FTL wakes in the Jakona system, a slaver fueling stop that appeared to be destroyed by her forces."

She took a slow breath. "We broke this investigation off after my forward scouts began receiving broken transmissions from the Rythek Pirate Group. They claimed that the Chresi V system, a known pirate operational hub, had been destroyed."

She glanced up at the admirals. "My scout group had already identified four other sites hit by the Butcher in the past week, but as you all know the exact location of the Chresi system was not known to us. Shortly after finding a handful of severely damaged pirate ships barely functioning and taking the few survivors into custody, my science officer picked up a homing beacon near a pair of black holes. The homing beacon was standard Alliance surplus stock, available on any one of a dozen black markets – it had been modified by a very skilled technician, but we couldn't determine anything else of note about it."

She exhaled. "We were told by our captives that this beacon was marking the only path to the Chresi system. Following the beacon lead us to a small star system."

She tapped her padd again, bringing up images on the far haptic screen. "Chresi V has – well, had – two HE3-rich gas giants and a single borderline habitable world, which was the site of a failed batarian colony. The pirate lord Rythek set up his base there, managing to maintain profitability and his rule for the past eleven years. Rythek was funded, we think, by both certain turian separatists and by the Blood Pack – we know he was engaged in smuggling krogan off Tuchanka, in weapons running to Facinus, and in pirating some turian merchant traffic."

"Six months ago, Rythek – or slavers answering to him – hit the colony of Hadley's Hope very hard, making off with over eight hundred slaves, killing two thousand civilians and destroying a pair of Corsair ships. Given the size of his fleet – it included at least ten older model turian heavy cruisers and a dozen batarian light cruisers, with more coming in since the fall of the Hegemony – he was probably the strongest of the 'border lords' in the Traverse not answering directly to Aria."

Hackett nodded gravely. "He was causing trouble before the Benezia Incident – some of his men participated in the strike of Eden Prime a year before Saren hit the place. He was also involved with some of the slaver operations that the Second RRU under Kyle destroyed. We never could pin him down and bring him to battle because no one could lead us to the system."

Branson nodded. "Continue, Captain."

The woman nodded, her face turning grim. "We entered the system at full battle readiness, some six hours after the transmissions hit our comm networks and two hours after sorting out our captives. Rythek was known to have at least fifty ships, most of them light raiding vessels, and to have both orbital defenses and a large ground force, so we figured a fight would still be ongoing. When we arrived however, the entire pirate fleet had been completely destroyed, and the planet kinetically bombarded."

The captain glanced at her padd again, clearly gathering her thoughts. "After a quick recon of the system, we were unable to localize where exactly the attackers had struck from. Nor could we concretely pin down the source of their weapons systems. Scanners indicated there were ion discharges similar to some high-performance Alliance engines, but too diffuse to be sure. We attempted to recover scans from the wrecked pirate ships, but every working computer system we found was hit with an extremely dangerous and polymorphic viral VI package that had wiped all data. My science officer attempted to categorize the various weapons signatures in the area, but her findings were … well, mixed."

Ahern frowned. "Define 'mixed', Captain."

She sighed. "The primary weapons used appear to be multi-stage disruptor-sheathed mass accelerator cannons, with a throw weight of battlecruiser class. Impact analysis from a destroyed pirate heavy cruiser indicates a single shot was capable of breaking their shields, blasting completely through the length of the vessel, and out the back of the ship. Targeting patterns and solar wind analysis would indicate there were more than ten such ships in the attacking force."

Admiral Rogeti grimaced. "Ten battlecrusiers? That's a goddamned armada."

Dragunov's harsh accent rang out. "Enough. Continue, Captain."

Shearsi tapped at her padd and images of the surface of the world came up. Its cratered surface was blackened in places by clear signs of heavy kinetic and torpedo bombardment. "From what we can tell, Rythak's 'base' consisted of about thirty to forty colonization modules, arranged in a large circle with a force-shield generator to keep the atmosphere in. A docking and landing facility to the south was not harmed by the bombardment, nor were the slave pens."

She gestured to a ring of debris circling the planet. "Based on the wreckage, Rythek had a heavy battle platform and well over twenty cruisers and at least one heavy battlecruiser in orbit, and more than twice that number of ships in the system. All of them were completely destroyed. Sensors indicated along with the mass accelerator fire that high yield, high performance M/AM torpedoes were utilized, with asari detonation triggers."

She gestured to the planet itself. "When we arrived, the slaves were the only living beings still on the world. The majority of the colonization modules had been kinetically bombarded from orbit, but traces on the outskirts of the landing area show that an assault force landed at some point and engaged in heavy fighting on the planet's surface. Based on the … well, trail of destruction, the landing party was mostly focused on breaching the command center, and then fanning out to slaughter every single slaver on the planet."

The Indian woman sighed. "We were able to recover and rescue the slaves on the surface of the planet, and interviewed them to determine what happened. According to them, the pirates were taken by surprise and bombarded, then suffered an attack by what they describe as very advanced mechs, similar in design to a RAMPART mech but with heavier armor and different weapons. The assault was lead by a small unit of super-heavy mechs. with the overall leader appearing to be an asari wearing white armor."

She paused. "We obtained a single image from a monitoring camera in the slave barracks at extreme distance." She tapped her padd, and the blurry image filled the screen – a tall figure in heavy white armor, with an elongated asari helmet, carrying what looked like a very heavy rifle of some kind.

Shearsi gestured to the screen. "The marines were not able to see much from the slave quarters, but they did see this white-armored leader engage in brief combat with two krogan slavers. They described the figure as tall – based on the terrain and other references, this person stands about 5'10 to six feet – and definitely asari. Based on the powers they described seeing – a blade invocation, and a combination of biotic charge and singularity – we're thinking this was possibly either a rogue member of the Thirty, or a lapsed Priestess of Athame."

Ahern grimaced. "If that's an asari, then it's definitely one of the Thirty based on the height alone. Jesus fuck, this gets worse and worse."

Branson grimaced as well. News that one of the Thirty was involved in this mess would make the High Lords of Sol very nervous. "Continue."

Shearsi consulted her padd again, as the rest of the admirals said nothing. "Several of the slaves were ex-Marines, and their descriptions were more detailed. According to them, the kinetic assault killed most of the slavers on the ground. The slave pens had their own atmosphere and power sources, and were well away from the main habitation to prevent the pirates from 'damaging the merchandise'. The assault was carefully targeted not to harm the slaves."

Branson finally spoke. "Interesting. That speaks of extremely skilled gunnery. Continue, Captain."

Shearsi bit her lip. "The most worrying part about the assault was the savagery, sir. The pirates were...well, massacred. More than half of them had to have been unarmed, and they were shot dead, and in some cases burned alive. Not a single pirate ship was found intact, and I find it very hard to believe none of them surrendered. Every single slaver inside the camp was either killed in battle, or executed."

Ahern snorted. "And nothing of fucking value was lost."

Shearsi nodded. "I'm not really feeling sorry for the pirates, sir. But a strike force capable of completely obliterating a pirate lord of Rythak's strength is very troubling, given that we don't know who it answers to. The fact that a fleet of that size somehow achieved complete surprise in their attack suggests some form of stealth technology was used."

Branson frowned. "Speculate later. How did you proceed from that point?"

Shearsi squared her shoulders. "I advised Alliance medical we had slaves in need of treatment. Medical frigates were on-site within eight hours. I also communicated to the Citadel we had a large number of non-human liberated slaves. Alliance medical and psychological personnel were able to deal with the humans in the group. As per orders, all intelligence was copied to the AIS for analysis."

She paused. "There was also a surviving pirate – or suspected pirate – ship in the area near the entrance to the FTL lane, a converted elcor hauler. They transmitted some images of the ships in the attack, the only hard visuals we have so far that show the enemy in action. I've already transmitted them to the AIS, along with the logs of all interviews with the slaves."

She tapped her padd once, displaying a single, grainy image. A dozen black and gray dagger shaped ships were visible, surrounding a larger ship that had fighters exiting a hangar bay. The ships didn't look familiar, except for the lead ship.

Ahern's eyes narrowed. "Enhance image, sector A-4." The image zoomed in and was cleared slightly.

The ship that was in the lead looked like an Alliance frigate, only much larger, with raked forward wings, larger engine pods, a more aggressive slant to the wingtips and many more guns. Thick armor occluded ports along the side.

Admiral Hackett frowned. "That looks like an Alliance ship design."

Ahern folded his arms. "Except we don't built our heavy cruisers to match a frigate's spec. What in the blue hell is that thing?"

Branson narrowed his eyes at the image. "Was this … suspected pirate … able to provide any more insight or information as to the nature of the ship?"

Shearsi exhaled and looked down. "According to the pirate, sir, they had no scans or emissions data – he claimed the ships hit the system in stealth much like the Normandy's IES system. They didn't pick up any transmissions of any kind – the attackers simply killed everything they could."

"Anything else of note, Captain?" Ahern's voice was wary.

Shearsi hesitated, then nodded. "One more thing, sirs. We were able, as I said, to confirm that someone or something landed at the pirate site. They didn't leave very much evidence behind, but we definitely found Rythek, or what was left of him. Someone literally punched a hole in his chest armor, then pulled his arms off by sheer force, before immolating him by way of some sort of plasma slurry." She bit her lip. "Based on the number of wounds on his body, and the condition of the area he was found in, we think this happened after he was taken captive."

There was an appalled pause in the room, and finally Admiral Tyrson grimaced. "Sounds like this Butcher – if this is her handiwork – is even more gruesome than Shepard ever was."

Branson merely nodded, eyes flickering to meet those of Ahern. "That's a discussion for a later time. If there is nothing else...?"

Captain Shearsi straightened to attention. "All details are in my reports, sir."

Admiral Hackett folded his arms. "Well done. Dismissed, Captain." He waited until Shearsi was out of the room before letting out a heavy sigh. "How many attacks does that make?"

Branson consulted his own padd. "Six, perhaps seven, in the span of four days. That we know of. God knows how many more we don't even know about, and that doesn't count the mess the Butcher has gotten up to in the past two weeks. The High Lords are very nervous and the Council is going crazy. We can't even identify who the attackers are with any certainty, or their fleet strength."

The blond admiral lifted his hand. "So far, we know they have a carrier of some kind, several heavy cruisers – possibly battle-cruisers – and some form of stealth craft. They employ human-style engines and weapons, with asari-style torpedoes, but the weapons they use are _very_ heavy. They appear to mostly rely on some kind of war robots for an assault force. They do not respond to any communications, and have destroyed five of the largest and most dangerous pirate or slaver networks."

Admiral Tyrson snorted. "And the AIS has no clues who these people are?"

Branson sighed. "None. The information from Captain Shearsi is the first hard data we have on their space or ground forces – or this asari leader calling herself the Butcher. We know only the following – she's in command of somewhere between eight and thirty ships, and those ships don't exactly match any known design specs. We have no indications of who built them or even where."

Branson rubbed his chin. "I've had the AIS investigate which asari could possibly be behind this. There are plenty of them who can pull off the biotics necessary, but almost none of them have the needed level of military skill to pull the rest of this mess off. Even if they did – every asari with the needed power and skill is fully accounted for." He grimaced. "Based on the height of the asari in white armor... it must be one of the Thirty, as Admiral Ahern pointed out. Any of them has the money for this sort of thing, but not the motives – and it would be noticed, if not by the AIS then the STG, certainly."

Ahern leaned back. "I've asked the few contacts I have in the Republic for ideas and they're all drawing blanks, too. They don't think it's any of the Houses of the Thirty, although that's mostly due to the fact that asari don't fucking act like that."

Dragunov spoke. "Jona Sederis does."

Ahern rolled his eyes. "And we know exactly where that crazy bitch is. She's not behind this. We don't have any footage of this Butcher fighting, but it's pretty clear if she's flinging singularities about that it's an asari of the Thirty, one who has heavy military training and lots of money. Whoever she is, she has a damned good sense of history. The poor bastards on Enera were shot to bits by something like a high-powered shotgun, using uranium hexafloride rounds."

Hackett frowned. "Why is that significant?"

Ahern sighed. "Before her death, Major Shepard made me a specialty version of her own ODIN shotgun. At the time she mentioned it could load highly exotic substances as ammo in the caster, and that she herself used uranium hexafloride. It's not the kind of detail just anyone would know. Whoever this asari is knew Shepard – perhaps we can use that to narrow our search."

Dragunov spoke, his accent harsher than usual. "Interesting. I'll have the AIS look into it. But that's not all that is strange. Every one of these pirate bases she has hit has conducted raids on Traverse wildcat colonies. Who has the kind of money needed to put together a force capable of cleaning out pirate colonies and doesn't register with any of the big boys intelligence services?"

Branson nodded, eyes narrowing. "The Shadow Broker might."

Dragunov shook his head. "But why? The Broker is involved, at least on some level, with the piracy. We know he makes money off of them and uses them for informal information gathering – he has no reason to go after his own people like this. The attacks are savage but designed both to inflict fear and shatter the ability of pirates and slavers to operate in the Traverse – why? P. and Aria both have pirate and slaving operations, so we know it isn't them. Hades would be crowing if they were behind it, and wouldn't associate with an asari in the first place."

Ahern folded his arms. "And it's _not_ the asari – even their craziest Justicars wouldn't go for this kind of butchery. While they believe in the hardest fucking kind of justice possible, they don't act in concert with others – it's always one on one with them. This is bigger."

Branson rubbed his chin again. "Could they be funded by more … outre interests? Turians? Volus?" When he got no answer, his expression hardened. "We need to know more and to establish some form of official policy on how the Fleet is to deal with this ... asari and her forces if contact is made. "

Admiral Rogeti sighed. "And how, exactly, are we going to make contact? Having a policy is all well and good, but it seems to me this asari is doing us all a very big favor – and isn't interested in talking about it."

Branson shook his head. "No, she really isn't doing us any favors at all. The outer colonies are lionizing the woman, to be sure – but a lot of them are wondering why the Alliance can't do what she did. Questioning if it's worth it to stay in the Alliance or not. The Council is also upset, but that's mostly the asari who can't figure out who this is. Merchants are nervous that if they deal with less-than-legal sources or fuel stops they'll get caught up in the slaughter."

He exhaled. "Our biggest problem is that we don't know what this person's motives are. It's hardly a bad thing she's killing off slavers – on that we all agree – but not only is the political fallout troubling, there's another factor. It is possible – even likely – that some human corporations, or private citizens, had links to these slavers."

Ahern winced. "You're thinking this Butcher person is going to start going after the financiers? Attacking Alliance or Citadel citizens?"

Branson nodded, but his mind was racing. He knew full well that at least some of the slave activity was actually sanctioned by the Systems Alliance as a method to prevent breakaway colonies from leaving the Alliance. If the Butcher found hard proof of that and transmitted it, there would political and economic hell to pay.

Hackett grunted. "With the fall of Rythek, what other major operations for slavers are even operable?"

Rogeti rubbed his cheek. "Omega, some of the ports on Ilium, the Suns 'workforce enablement' on Korlus, and the few batarian holdouts in Ralas. Ralas is a damned fortress with well over three hundred ships of the Hegemony fragment and a half-dozen star-bases. Omega is … well, Omega. Korlus is poorly defended, but most of its industry is in ship-breaking and hazmat, not slavery."

Branson nodded. "If she hits another place, is it likely she'll go after Korlus, or Omega?"

Ahern snorted. "She would be fucking stupid to head to Omega – or Ralas. You'd need dreadnoughts to crack either, and I don't see any evidence of her having that, thank God. And while there's a lot of slaves on Korlus, every one of the targets so far was into active slaving operations, not just having slaves. Attacking Korlus or Ilium makes no sense."

Branson's frown deepened. "Then what is the goal, if not the obliteration of slavery? If we know her goals, we can at least make an attempt at predicting her next target."

It was the voice of Dragunov that answered. "That is obvious. She's going after every slaver port that could be responsible for the abducted colonists. The slaver groups in the Silver Rim on the far side of the galaxy haven't even been touched."

Rogeti shrugged. "I still do not see the problem."

Dragunov's eyes flashed. "The problem, Admiral, is that thus far, we've maintained that these disappearances were caused by slaver raids – despite the troubling lack of evidence to prove this. If another such occurrence happens it will not be so easy to dismiss when all the slavers that might accomplish such a thing have been obliterated."

The Fleet Master steepled his fingers. "That is the troubling thing, in my mind. I suspect that there is some additional reason this Butcher is targeting the slavers. As Admiral Branson mentioned, we are going to have … issues … if the involvement of some parties is known – but we'll have more problems if another wildcat colony goes dark and we have no one to blame for it."

Tyrson spoke. "We've moving off the topic. The concern is the Butcher, who is backing her, where she's getting her ships from, and why. It can't be the Broker, or P., or Aria. Who exactly does that leave with the kind of money to do this?"

Branson leaned back. "Most of the wealthier asari houses. Any of the Six Clans of the salarians. Possibly the Deathwatch. Volus corporations and the Noveria Corporation have the cash. AIS has already been looking through the Lords and found nothing."

Admiral Okuda, silent up until this point, raised her chin. "None of those actors have any reason to want to curtail human slavery or to stop the vanishing of wildcat colonies. I think we're missing a bigger player here, somehow."

Dragunov gave a sour smile. "In what way?"

The smaller Japanese woman adjusted her collar and smiled back frostily. "Let's examine some things. Almost nine months after the death of Shepard, a mysterious attacker on Omega begins slaughtering the gangs, slavers, and eventually Broker agents, calling himself Archangel. No one knows where this person came from, or how they became so powerful. Not long after that, a pair of mysterious asari begin assassinating Broker agents and backers on Ilium – again, out of the blue, no evidence of who is backing them or how they are able to do what no one else has."

She gestured to the monitor. "Now, once again, we have a strange assailant come out of literally no where and in little more than three weeks reduce the equivalent of two full strength regiments and a battle fleet to wreckage – and we don't have a single bit of hard physical evidence. Nothing! I do not believe in coincidences of that nature."

She smiled. "When you change the question from 'Who wants slavers taken out' to 'who profits from the mess on Omega, Ilium and the Traverse' then we only have one possible culprit. The asari hate Aria and want her taken down. They hate the fact that the clanless on Ilium run the place and they have no foothold there. Most of all, they hate the fact that any of their own kind get enslaved and held."

Okuda folded her arms. "These pirate networks were important to Aria AND the Broker as a source of slaves, wealth, and no doubt as a buffer against attack. But no slaver group would need to capture entire planets. We know the asari have encouraged a great deal of human immigration to their worlds, but the AIS is still reporting they are trying very hard to vastly increase the amount of humans moving to asari space. Is it possible the asari are behind the disappearances and are using these various agents to clean up their tracks? That the completely over-the-top savagery we see is designed specifically to make us suspect another culprit?"

Branson's eyebrow rose, but it was Ahern who spoke. "That's pretty far-fetched."

The woman shrugged. "No more far-fetched than any of the other possible solutions we have. These attacks aren't the sort of thing salarians or turians would do. They aren't the work of some random asari who got pissed off at slaving. This is a highly financed and extremely dangerous campaign, and I think we should consider very carefully the possibility that it is designed to cripple the Systems Alliance."

Dragunov's eyes narrowed. "Take captives for their own use in quieting the clanless, while weakening the Broker and Aria. Break clanless power on Ilium, break Aria's power on Omega, make the Systems Alliance look incompetent and incapable of protecting its people and convince wildcat colonies to join the Asari Republic. And reduce markets and operational area for P. to operate out of. It would be a … very brilliant play, if true."

Ahern leaned back. "And I still say it doesn't fucking fit." He held up a hand at the raised eyebrow of Admiral Okuda. "I'm not saying your wrong. I'm saying there's got to be more to it than just this. We need to make a concerted effort at reaching out to this Butcher and seeing if we can get some hard answers before we start throwing wild accusations at the asari."

Branson sighed. "We will have to consult with the High Lords and undoubtedly the Commissariat xenopsychologists before reaching any firm conclusions, I agree. Tentatively, however – we still are left with uncertainty about who is responsible, the asari or another actor. How do we respond to resolve this?"

Admiral Okuda smiled. "Send Delacor to make sure there's no clear link between any large human interests and the slavers, to neutralize our exposure. I'm not cleared on some of the Black Projects but I have enough sense to know we probably were involved on some level – clean that up first. Then, reach out to the wildcat colonies. Pull back Third and Second fleet from the geth war-front for refit and rotate the less stressed units of those fleets into RRU forces on a temporary basis, so we can react to disappearances faster. Extend monitoring to the various wildcat colonies that are willing to work with us."

She folded her arms. "And when the hardliners wildcat colonies hold out or refuse to work with us – and you know they will, at least the older ones like Freedom's Progress – and end up vanishing, fabricate evidence that Aria's slavers are behind it."

Dragunov gave a thin, almost evil smile. "Ah. A trap within a trap. If the asari aren't behind this they'll want to use that to have the Citadel Fleets attack Aria. If they are, though, they know full well an invasion would reveal that they were really behind it and will be reluctant to strike. An elegant solution."

Branson nodded. "I'll draw up the plans and inform the High Lords." He paused. "Admiral Okuda, if it turns out the asari are not behind this...who do you think is responsible?"

The Asian woman's features took on a thoughtful look for a moment, then she smiled thinly. "If it isn't them, then the only possible answer is a player we've overlooked. A group with resources to build a fleet and finance an army of war robots, who are determined to stop predation on human colonies. A group that won't work with or even expose itself to any outside interference."

Branson frowned. "But no such group exists."

The admiral smiled back at him. "Not anymore. But when you look at all the facts, what other groups do we know of that had the kind of capabilities I just described? I can think of only one."

The room was silent for long seconds before Ahern began to curse.


	11. Arc II : The Price of Freedom

_**A/N**:  
_

_Hey gang.  
_

_I managed to get another one out, because I didn't feel like going into work today. Not a lot of energy to get up and do much of anything really. Hopefully some of you guys and gals out there can get some entertainment value out of this. I did my best shot at cleaning the typos up on this one, but who knows what I missed. Thanks for all the reviews and PMs letting me know you are still thinking about me. _

_Some non-Shepard stuff is coming soon. _

_While I certainly have no intentions of following canon, starting the show with the usual placeholder seemed an interesting way to re-purpose the bullshit that was Freedom's Progress, and also explain why the colony looked like a pile of suitcases. _

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

* * *

_'...what in the actual fuck?'  
_

_\- Spectre Jason Delacor, upon seeing the wreckage of the _Vetra-sath _war robot on Freedom's Progress  
_

* * *

Shepard glanced around the communications room as she entered, the glowing sphere of Vigil bobbing slightly behind and beside her. She'd been in the middle of discussing ways to utilize the war robots when the voice of Miranda came over the comm system, saying the Illusive Man was calling. Given that his usual communications occurred only at announced and specific times – namely, the beginning of each day – a sudden call was probably urgent.

She'd run most of the way to the comms room, knowing it was likely that a colony was under attack.

Still, she slowed her speed as she entered, letting her usual stride take its place. She wasn't even close to sure she fully trusted TIM, but she had definitely decided she didn't like the idea of him seeing her as one of his operatives or anything similar to it, and part of that meant keeping cool. She came to a stop at the sight of the faintly glowing image in the middle of the QEC device, folding her arms. "I'm here."

The Illusive Man was usually very difficult to read, his voice too slick and polished to find cues in and his facial expression like ice, but even she could detect a hint of excitement and anger in his voice. "It is time for you to justify the expense in bringing you back, Shepard. We've just lost all contact with the monitoring drones we have in place around Freedom's Progress, one of the more heavily bankrolled if somewhat less populated independent colonies. Given that we lost contact fifteen minutes ago, whoever is attacking is no doubt still there."

She turned to Vigil. "Wake up Joker and Tali, get the Normandy's core online and be ready to move." With a thin smile she glanced back at Harper. "I don't think taking the full fleet is wise in this instance, since we don't know what we're up against, and the stealth capabilities of the rest of the ships is only a fraction of that of the Normandy."

The Illusive Man nodded, lighting a cigarette, holographic smoke fading sharply as it rose into the air. "A wise precaution, for multiple reasons. Assuming there are survivors, they won't be likely to be agreeable. Freedom's Progress was an old penal colony, taken over and controlled by separatist groups that were once terrorists on Earth. They are a fractious lost, but had a great deal of support from certain corporations and the planet, while not terraformed or well developed, had several orbital defense platforms, GARDIAN towers, heavy ground defenses, and a literal army of LOKI mechs."

He exhaled smoke. "And despite all of that, whatever took out the spy drones I had in orbit did so fast enough that we have no information on the threat, and the one remaining FTL drone I have in the system is not picking up any weapons discharges." He paused, taking a sip of a drink to his right.

"Given that Freedom's Progress was the most paranoid and heavily defended of the wildcat colonies and populated mostly by those well acquainted with defending themselves, the concept that they were taken without a shot is … disquieting. Caution is certainly warranted."

She frowned at that. "We'll go in careful and focus on gathering information, not a fight. Anything else I need to know? Any reason in particular this one colony would be hit, compared to the others?"

The Illusive Man took a drag from his cigarette, then blew it out thoughtfully. "Possible. Freedom's Progress is a contentious settlement, as I said, given its background – especially in the eyes of the Systems Alliance. Miranda can brief you on the politics and history of the colony. I doubt strongly, however, that the politics play a role here, aside from the fact that it is a colony of humans not associated – and defended – by the Alliance."

He gave a thin, narrow smile. "One more thing. According to my information, the planet recently contracted a quarian technical support cohort to assist with their terraforming equipment. We've seen inconsistent results when asari are on the planets being hit – the earliest attacks killed them all, later ones simply left them unconscious with zero memories of what happened. Quarians have never been on an attacked world before. If the quarians are still alive – and unaffected – they may have useful information."

She curled her expression into a distasteful sneer. "After how the Flotilla treated Tali and Joker, can't say I'm all fired up to rescue them."

The man leaned back. "I am not really concerned if you rescue them or interrogate and execute them. My only concern is that they may have useful information. What happens to them is up to you."

She arched an eyebrow. "You don't care?"

Harper gave her a level gaze, swirling his drinking in hand before taking a sip. "The difference in working for me rather than the Alliance, Shepard, is that the methods don't matter as long as the job gets done. I merely provide the _information_ – it is up to you to use it as you see fit."

He glanced at something to his left. "The only other thing of note is that the colony was one of a number of wildcats that took a series of .. loans and grants from the Vol Protectorate – ones my research show were backed by the Shadow Broker. In fact, every colony hit so far has had this same pattern. There may be a connection – find out what you can."

She nodded. "And if don't find anything of use? No hints of who or what did this? No survivors?"

He shrugged. "Then withdraw without leaving any evidence. Being unable to find anything will dictate a different path for us to follow. We can discuss your next targets – or how you plan to move forward – when you get back. For now, go to Freedom's Progress and determine what you can."

The QEC flickered and died, and she gave a huff of irritation before turning on a heel, marching out of the room.

Vigil bobbed behind her. "Your ship is powering up. I have alerted Zorah and the pilot to make haste. I have also loaded thirty war robots in the cargo hold, in case you need ground support to offset your general incompetence."

She nodded, ignoring the AI's usual verbal barbs, stalking back to the main corridor. From there it took her almost two minutes to get to the armory, and she pushed the doors open to find that Taylor was there, fiddling with something on one of the omni-foundry tables. "Jacob, find Miranda and tell her to get to the Normandy ASAP. Freedom's Progress just got hit."

The black man nodded, straightening and dropping the barrel of whatever he was working on. "Sure thing, ma'am." He rushed out of the room as Shepard walked to a locker and began pulling out her armor.

**O-TWCD-O**

Joker's voice rang across the CIC. "Hitting solar boundary in two minutes, Shepard."

From her chair in the CIC she nodded, glancing over the status repeater overhead. The trip from the asteroid base she was using to the system had been fairly quick – less than three hours in FTL and a single jump. Freedom's Progress was only habitable planet in the system, along with a pair of gas giants with borderline-quality HE3 and a massive iron-core planet in close orbit around the star.

The colony had an interesting background – if Horizon was the capital of the wildcat colonies in terms of population and culture, Freedom's Progress was the financial and political center. Its wealth came from the mines on the surface, worked by mechs – polonium, cadmium, and one of the highest-grades and purities of platinum in the entire galaxy were mined, as well as a host of other minerals and low-quality but cheap HE3 from the gas giants. Despite its wealth, the colony's actual construction was still mostly collections of colony modules and duraplast panels lining roughly hewn cave systems due to the survivalist and minimalist culture of the world.

People who came to Freedom's Progress hated the Systems Alliance and everything it stood for, and prided themselves on a certain stark lack of material luxuries.

The colony, according to Miranda, had been established over thirty years ago, and was currently lead by a man known as Kenneth Logain, the great-great grandson of the founder of EAGL, George Lincoln Logain, who had been the most virulent and difficult to defeat of the many enemies opposing Victor Manswell in his unification of Earth. Even decades of hard-line repression and Commissariat persecution had not stamped out some of the fire from certain citizens of Earth, and Freedom's Progress had begun life as a penal colony, a place to dump the disaffected, in the years before the Commissariat had become so overwhelmingly powerful.

During the First Contact War the SA abandoned the inhabitants to whatever doom awaited them, much like had been done with Horizon, and as a result Logain's people had managed to take over, seizing control of the weapons and equipment left behind, including the defenses. They'd dug in hard, hacking the mechs that worked the mines alongside them to a more militant spec, and declared themselves 'free'.

By the time the SA got around to trying to re-secure the colony two and half years later, the colonists had already bartered some of their new found mineral wealth to the various volus and salarian traders in the area for much more effective defenses and a large host of salarian multifunction mechs, useful for both mining and defense. Rather than reconquer the place, the Commissariat suggested writing the colony off and using it as a place to ship dangerously revolutionary types off to. This had faded in the years since the formation of the Penal Legions, of course, but it left Freedom's Progress as a very rough-and-tumble place, not peacenik farmers or Luddites.

Shepard was not surprised that a place like Freedom's Progress had been hit. The SA would hardly lose sleep over it and the isolationist bent of the inhabitants meant that few would miss them. And if the colony went missing someone would be more than happy to take over the rich mineral wealth.

She sighed, grimacing at her trend of thought, and then glanced down the nearly empty Ops Alley. The Normandy still was not fully crewed – Miranda and Ezno were still doing some final checks on the personnel needed to man the ship – but the handful of people on board were doing their jobs well enough. She slid her gaze to the science station, a spike of hurt flashing across her features at the thought of Liara, and set her jaw.

"Alright, we've been in system long enough for the sensors to give us a look-see. Report."

The science tech, an almost painfully thin woman known as Jennifer Goldstein, frowned at the sensor panel before pushing her mass of white-blond hair to one side of her face. "No ships in orbit, ma'am. There appears to be an orbital defense platform...no power emissions. No signs of FTL transit. No combat wreckage. Minor particle traces, very exotic..."

Vigil's voice lanced out. "Typical, even your sensor scans are substandard. Shepard, that 'particle trace' your sensors are barely detecting is the result of what the Inusannon defined as jump drives. Reaper technology. Since there are clearly no Reapers in orbit, whatever is generating them must be landed on the planetary surface, or has already departed. The signature is not defined enough for a full Reaper, or even a lesser war-form. Caution would be advised."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Battle stations, full stealth. Joker bring us into low observable orbit, near the main settlement site. Chambers, any communications?"

Kelly manned the communications panel, being capable of performing that task given its relative simplicity. "None at this time. I haven't sent any messages, but I'm not even picking up baseline landing guidance beacons."

The Normandy dipped, and as they got closer to the orbital defense platform, Goldstein gave a low whistle. "Damn. Ma'am, the station got hit by something very powerful." She tapped her console and the galaxy map was replaced by a digital image of the station, a good third of it completely gone and large sections melted and deformed."

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "Analysis?"

Goldstein frowned. "Some kind of … iron slurry?"

Shepard exhaled. "Do detailed scans and send a probe droid to take physical sample of the slurry. Reaper weapons leave that kind of residue."

She nodded. "It's in a shitty orbit, destabilized. Probably will hit atmo and burn in another few hours."

Vigil pulsed. "Thus, leaving no evidence. Clever."

Shepard rubbed her chin. "While that's happening, scans of the planet?"

Goldstein shrugged. "Minimal power emissions from the main settlement, and none from the outlying mining sites. GARDIAN towers are … functional but not drawing any energy. There are some minor power sources near the outskirts of the colony, but they could be anything from fuel cells to private vehicle motors."

Vigil pulsed several times, then rose into the air. "I am unable to make contact with any of the computer networks in the settlement. They've been … destroyed … for the most part by some kind of polymorphic VI attack, similar to the ones I use on our enemies. I suspect the defenses were hacked and deactivated even as they blew the defensive station apart. There's some activity on the ground near the colony center, but it is disconnected from all hardlines. If you want that hacked you'll have to go in on the ground."

Shepard nodded. "Any sign of ships, Reapers …. giant melted holes in the ground from landing? When Nazara landed on Eden Prime it looked like a plasma bomb had blown up."

Goldstein scanned for several minutes. "Ah. Yes, ma'am. Northern side of the main settlement, half a click from the settlement itself. Heat signature is fading. About thirty feet across...at the rate it looks to be cooling, whatever did that has been gone for at least an hour and a half."

Shepard shrugged. The Normandy had gotten here as quick as it could, within four hours. It would be another day or two before anyone else noticed the colony had gone dark. "No point in hanging out up here, then." She tapped her comm. "Miranda, you and Jacob suit up, please. Prep two shuttles and fill one with war robots, have it land first and establish a perimeter. Tali,meet me in the shuttle bay." She paused, then clicked the comm again. "Doctor Sedanya, also please suit up and head to the shuttle bay.

Chambers gave her a somewhat surprised look. "You are talking the XO, the doctor, and Tali?"

Shepard nodded, pushing back from the command plinth. "Tali held her own when she fought with me, and there may be quarians down there that need medical attention. Plus, there may be hints that only a doctor or an engineer would see. We can't afford to stay here long or leave any kind of evidence that we were here."

Kelly shrugged. "Who is in charge while you, the XO, and the Engineer are off the ship then?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Vigil, of course. Have to stroke its ego somehow."

The sphere pulsed. "Ungrateful zombie monkey."

**O-TWCD-O**

Freedom's Progress was a militant cubist's wet dream.

The colony itself was built into an ice-shelf, which was the source of water and electrically cracked oxygen, as well as hydrogen for fuel cells and power. The shelf was pared back in neat, long strips, surmounted by or impregnated by boxy colony modules. Heavy durasteel bunkers and barricades, set off with omnigel stiffened sandbags and carefully tended fire lanes, dominated every ground approach.

GTS missiles and GARDIAN towers bristled over the main colony stack, towering a good six hundred feet into the air and armored with thick slabs of star-ship hull material, omnigel and plates of dark iron. The stack broke at its base into a a broad crescent of more boxy colony modules around a landing area, with heavy machine-gun nests and sniper towers sprinkled about liberally. The entire colony was surrounded by a fifteen foot tall, four foot thick wall of rubble, scrap iron and other debris smoothed over with a covering of heavy omnigel and topped with kinetic barrier projectors ever forty feet.

Taking the place by invasion would have been a bloodbath. Yet there was no signs of any fighting. The front gates, the massive doors from an old Lancaster-class transport's cargo bay, were open, the heavy guard shacks built out of spare duraplast panels empty and unguarded.

Shepard bit her lip inside her helmet, moving forward slowly and carefully. She'd launched a sensor drone of her own to accompany the one Tali had put up, and had turned her reflex settings as high as they would go to allow her to react faster. Doing so gave her unpleasantly ugly shivers and a slight dizzy sensation as she moved, but it was worth the increased reaction time.

The ground was snow-covered and icy, the crunch of it below her armored boots making the footing a bit tricky as she panned her Harrier rifle around. Behind her, Jacob walked just as slowly, hulkingly large in his custom-built Devastator armor, a lance cannon clutched in his massive hands.

Miranda and Tali held the flanks. Miranda's combat armor was little more than a series of omni-armor plates over her armored form-fitting suit, but Tali had additional bolt-on shielding systems and plates on her own suit, along with the omni-shield generator. Miranda was keeping her self in a loose stance as she scanned with her free hand, while Tali monitored the take from the drones, her Reegar shotgun clutched tightly.

In the back, Doctor Sedanya walked along calmly, one hand ready with a biotic shielding invocation if needed. Her field armor was much like Miranda's, minus the extra scanning gear but augmented by a heavy pack of medical support equipment. Her eyes flicked about nervously, and the clear faceplate of her helmet revealed her tension.

The place was eerily, utterly silent.

They walked through the massive front gates, seeing slushy melted tracks in huge numbers against the snow-covered metal decking. Shepard exhaled slowly, tapping her commlink. "Vigil, status."

The ringing voice of the Inusannon AI came across the comm system in her helmet. "My first group of mechs is approaching the landing site now. It appears that a great deal of foot traffic lead to the area, bu the heat of the landing has eliminated any tracks closer to the landing spot itself. I have not seen any evidence of a firefight or resistance, and chemical analysis reveals no accelerants. My second group of mechs is circling the colony walls looking for anything of note. I am picking up intermittent energy emissions from somewhere within the colony."

Shepard nodded, flicking the safety off her Harrier. "Keep the formation tight. Vigil is picking up energy emissions."

Tali nodded. "So am I. Weak, but up ahead." She gestured towards the right side of the colony proper, and Shepard lead them in that direction. They passed by a series of colony module cubes, the glass fronted windows of each showing the insides, and Shepard frowned as she stepped into one, the door hissing open quietly.

The cube dwelling wasn't large – fifteen feet by twenty – and split with simple metal barriers into a sleeping area with four beds, a mixed food prep and eating area, and a corner with an entertainment system, low couches, a rack of data slates, and a rack of rifles. A thin panel door was cracked open revealing a bathroom.

Three cups of coffee sat on the narrow bar near the food prep unit, along with a data slate still turned on to the morning's news. A half-eaten bagel sat quietly on the plate. Three of the beds were made, one was rumpled, the sheets flung to the foot of the bed.

Miranda glanced around, frowning at the weapons rack. "None of the guns have been taken down."

Jacob eased the door of the bathroom in, and grunted. "Someone didn't flush the toilet, and there's shaving foam on one of the towels. Sink's full of water. "

Shepard nodded. They backed out and headed down the narrow, metal-grated path, past a series of sandbags bunkered around a turreted set of Hachimi light machine rifles. A data-slate lay on the ground, still in the middle of a comms text call with someone, with eight minutes of unanswered messages on it.

Next to it was a doll, half buried in slush, and three sets of small environmental boots, set aside. Shepard frowned as they walked down the path further, finally coming to the main plaza area.

The plaza was as deserted as everywhere else. An aircar was crashed into a wall along the right half of the plaza, its doors open, the windshield crazed with cracks. Heavy long lines of drag marks trailed from each of the many doors in the plaza towards the landing site.

The omni-tool on Tali's arm flashed and beeped."Shepard, energy signatures rising. From the west."

As she nodded, a heavy cargo crate shuddered. They all turned to face it, weapons swinging upwards, when the sliding metallic front of the crate was hit from within with a horrible clang, then separated violently into metallic slats that flew a dozen feet away.

Stepping out of the crate and rising to full height was the heavily armored, night-black form of a brand new MJOLNIR heavy combat mech. The red cyclopean scanner eye blazed to life as the thing scanned the plaza and faced them. "Adjusting target profiles, engaging hostiles."

"COVER!" Miranda screamed as she dove to her right, behind a heavy concrete wall framing one of the colonization cubes. Tali ducked behind another cargo crate, while Jacob flung himself backwards into a roll, coming up in a firing position next to a different colonization cube. Sedanya flash-stepped backwards twice, crouching behind the sandbags near the turrets.

Shepard kanquessed up and back, coming out of her charge on top of the colonization module Miranda had taken cover behind. "Taylor, take it down!"

The ex-Corsair fired, the heavy beam of light striking the mech clean in the chest. The kinetic barrier protecting the mech shattered, but the armor under it was barely dented as it stomped forward, optics flaring, lifting its left arm. The hexagonal mini-missile tubes there exploded into fire, six missiles flashing out to detonate across the area. Jacob grunted as his cover crumbled and he was staggered, even as the machine lined up its heavy mass accelerator to finish him.

Shepard snarled and fired, drawing its attention. Miranda scowled and tapped her comm. "Vigil, heavy war machine on the ground! Need backup!"

The AI responded coolly. "I have noticed. The entire mech contingent is now activated, someone is still down there hacking the system. I cannot override them. Whoever is in control is clever – they've shifted the mech's wireless systems off and instructed them to open fire on anything that moves. My own mechs are busy holding off the mass of other mechs from the main defensive station."

Tali opened up with her omni-tool, hurling explosive plasma blasts, as Shepard moved through the kanquess in flashes almost too fast to follow, coming out in mid-air twice to hit the MJOLNIR with heavy bursts of gunfire before diving out of the machine's targeting arc. The mass accelerator on the mech's arm fired anyway, blasting a four foot wide hole in one of the nearby colony modules, and Miranda hissed.

"Shepard, we don't have the weapons to take that thing out! We need to fall back!"

Shepard, for her part, only smiled, throwing herself into a biotic assisted jump to elude missiles. She lashed out with her biotics, flinging a shear into the nearby stack of construction equipment next to the machine, then a hard push field to shove it all at the mech's feet. The heavy tubing and sacks of plascrete made it shuffle for its footing, and when it did Shepard kanquessed behind it, almost on top of the thing.

Dropping her Harrier as she came out of the charge she snapped her ODIN out, using her biotics to anchor herself to the back of the machine. The MJOLNIR swiped at her ineffectually, even as she shoved the barrel of her shotgun into the gap between the armored sensor unit and the main body and opened fire with a full burst. The machine staggered, smoke erupting from its innards, and she pushed off. Landing with a exhalation of breath she focused all her power into a single warp strike at the missile arm, even while she threw a pull at it.

The warp energy ate into the arm and then there was a biotic explosion, followed a moment later by a larger explosion as the ammo in the arm cooked off. The resulting blast sent the heavy mech to the ground, tearing away long stripes of armor and exposing the machine's internals. Shepard landed in a graceful flip and immediately flung an EMP grenade at it, stepping well back to make sure she wasn't caught in the blast of blue-white energy.

The machine gave a heavy mechanical whine and then shorted out, even as Shepard calmly picked up her dropped Harrier and placed it on her back. "C'mon, Lawson. I was bitchslapping geth primes out of my way even before you turned me into the Bionic Woman. It's just a goddamned mech."

Jacob looked at the now wrecked machine, then at Shepard, and then back at the machine. "Shepard, the MJOLNIR is rated to take out light tanks and entire squads. It bounced a round from my _lance cannon_."

Tali shook her head. "You get used to Shepard doing things like that." She helped Sedanya to her feet, then tapped at her omni again. "More incoming signatures, Shepard."

The next twenty minutes was mostly, from Shepard's point of view, tedious. The mechs that assailed them were mostly lightly armored humanoid models with light rifles and the occasional 'robo-dog' suppressor units, nothing that was even worth her bothering to use her ODIN on. A set of hovering rocket drones was no match for Miranda and Jacobs' combined biotic attack, and the rest of the omnidrones generated by a beefed up AESIR repair unit hacked into some kind of combat control system were taken out by Tali's own drone swarm.

As they got closer to the main colony stack, they could hear heavy fighting from the south and west, where Vigil's own mechs were clearly clashing with the colony's mechs. Miranda scowled, and reminded Vigil that they couldn't afford to leave evidence of their presence behind.

As they were passing yet another colony cube, they heard loud shouting and pounding on the door. This particular cube had no windows and a heavily reinforced door, one blocked by a big cargo crate shoved against it. With a frown, Shepard used her biotics to shove it out of the way, and a moment later the door was shoved open from the inside.

Three quarians stumbled into the open. Two wore the lighter civilian suits of engineers, but the one in the lead was taller and bulkier, with armored panels. None of them were armed, but they looked around in confusion before staring at the party of humans, asari and Tali.

The lead quarian spoke first. "...not to be rude for freeing us, but who exactly are you? You aren't any of Logain's people." The voice was deep, rough, and sounded familiar to Shepard.

Tali immediately stiffened, and tapped her private comm channel while muting her own speaker. "Shepard – that's a Migrant Fleet Marine Strike Captain. The reik patterns of the other two are from the Rayya, the core live-ship of the Flotilla."

Shepard grimaced behind her mask but kept her voice neutral, cutting in the voice modulator of her helmet. "Greetings, quarians. No, we are not associated with the forces of Logain. The entire colony appears to have been … abducted, and the defense mechs are attacking."

The lead quarian shook his head, folding his arms. "Well, that's just great. I'm Strike Captain Kal'Reegar vas Moreh. We're part of the Quarian Mobile Engineering group, called out to help with Freedom Progress' mining mechs. There were nine of us, but I'd sent all but four of us back just yesterday to obtain additional parts."

Shepard nodded. She smiled at the sight of the now familiar Kal'Reegar, but was glad he didn't recognize her altered voice. "I see. How did you come to be locked in the crate?"

One of the other quarians, a female, gave a hard bark of laughter. "Two of our party, Veetor and Prazza, were working on the other side of the colony. Veetor had a suit accident and was delirious, Prazza was sent out to get him. No idea where that ended up, but as we were working on our suits in our colony module here, we hear screaming from outside."

Kal'Reegar nodded, unfolding his arms. "We didn't have our suits assembled – the colony module is a clean room and we had our filters out. By the time we got ourselves ready to move, the door was locked. Not long after that we get a transmission from Prazza about "monsters" and he starts screaming and then gets cut off."

The big quarian marine glanced around. "We're still trying to hack the door open when we hear mechs moving and something big and heavy thumps down outside. Then we hear Veetor on the line, saying the monsters are coming. The kid's recycler unit was shot before all this, he's probably half delirious from contaminants by this point. No telling what he's up to."

Shepard glanced at Miranda. "You have no information on what hit the colony? Prazza didn't give any descriptions of these monsters?"

Kal'Reegar shook his head. "No, ma'am. He was a pilot, really, not a soldier." He shifted his weight. "And while I'm happy you got us out of that cube before we ran out of air or starved to death...what exactly are you doing here?"

Shepard let her amusement color her voice. "Investigating the disappearances. I was convinced it was something besides the slaving pieces of shit I've been disposing of for the past few weeks."

The other quarian, a male, suddenly took a step back. "Oh Idenna's Mercy, you're the _Butcher_!"

Shepard inclined her head. "Nice to be recognized."

Kal'Reegar scowled. Having been stuck with escorting around civilians was more of the shit jobs he'd been stuck with since the Tali Incident, when he'd been responsible for not properly securing the girl and ended up getting her father shot. As a result, he'd been away from the Flotilla proper for the past few months, and was more than aware of the wild stories and fearful mutterings about the Butcher.

The grisly rumors and frankly melodramatic gushing on the extranet aside, he didn't want to tangle with this group. The asari in white armor was known to be extremely dangerous, but something about the eerily smooth way she moved set his quills on edge. The other asari, in the back, was clearly watching them for some kind of trouble, and the two humans looked ready to fight as well, one clad in what looked like powered armor and clutching a lance cannon.

The quarian with the group was the most disturbing, as the reik the female wore was completely unfamiliar to him – the pattern didn't even look _quarian_. The black-tinted faceplate and heavy cybernetic arm was clearly the sign of an exile, but the vicious and clearly upgraded Reegar shotgun in her hands looked too expensive for an exile to own. The fact that she had said nothing at all when greeted with her own people reinforced the idea in Kal'Reegar's head that this was probably a dangerous exile and had no love for them.

This group looked extremely lethal. The last person Kal'Reegar had seen who had made him feel this out of his depth and inadequate was when he'd fought on the Citadel alongside Shepard.

The big marine folded his arms again and gazed at the figure in white armor. "I'm certainly not going to miss the slaving bosh'tet types that infested the Traverse, but that doesn't tell me why exactly are you here."

Shepard chuckled. "As I said, I've had my suspicions that whoever was vanishing human colonies wasn't slaver groups. This is all too neat, too spotless to be slavers. I need to find more clues or evidence before I'll be taken seriously. The mechs of the colony appear to be hostile, but someone is controlling them, which is getting in the way of my search. I've already had to drop a MJOLNIR."

Kal'Reegar whistled and nodded slowly. If they were powerful enough to stop a MJOLNIR mech, he wouldn't want to fight them even on his best day with a full squad. "It is very likely Prazza'Mal is dead, but Veetor is almost certainly alive – he is a brilliant programmer and our lead mech interface tech, and the mechs attacking might be something he did. Very possibly he used the mechs to seal us away from whatever … took … the colonists." He sighed. "If he's as crazy as I expect, the mechs are probably programmed to kill now."

She nodded. "What kind of resistance could we be facing?"

Kal'Reegar sighed. "We … weren't _only_ here for mining operations. Times have been rough for the Flotilla, and we take a lot of side jobs to make ends meet, some of them sort of shady. The colonists here had gotten some prototype mechs for testing from the Salarian Union, and we were working to adapt them to the colony network. Veetor had all the access codes and overrides for the mechs, including at least three more MJOLNIR … and the Vetra-sath heavy battle unit."

Miranda shook her head. "A twenty foot tall war robot designed to counter battle-suits and heavy armor. It's literally bleeding edge technology – we just started getting reports on it last month. What in God's name was Freedom's Progress doing with this kind of military hardware?"

Kal'Reegar shrugged, but the female quarian behind him snorted. "Who knows? It was all mostly recent stuff – the MJOLNIR mechs we saw were still in the shipping crates, they'd just been purchased a few weeks back. Most of the mechs had been snapped up in the past two months – Logain … had his ideas about who was behind the colony disappearances. He feared it was the Systems Alliance."

Shepard shrugged. "Alright. So we have a possibly crazy quarian tech who has probably coded the mechs of the colony to kill everything. I could probably shut all this down by having my ship blow the defense center to bits, but that would kill your friend. . . and any chance of him having seen what caused this mess. Ideas?"

Kal'Reegar straightened. "Frankly, at this point, my only concern is getting my people safely back to the Flotilla – including Veetor, he's an admiral's nephew. We only have basic weapons – nothing that could match a heavy mech. Your people are clearly more prepared for this, but we can certainly help out in reaching Veetor – hacking, taking down drones, adding our firepower to yours. If we assist you in finding your evidence, can you help us find Veetor?"

Shepard paused, turning to look at Tali for a long moment. The quarian girl groaned and tapped her omni-tool, shifting her voice to a deeper timber and trying to sound more like Kiala. "I'm re-configuring the drones to look for quarian life-signs, which will be difficult given the density of the colony modules and the shielding inherent in our suits."

Kal'Reegar gazed at her, taking in the clearly artificial arm half covered by a shoulder-pad. "You have not introduced yourself, fleet sister."

Tali's eyes narrowed and her voice took on a level of vitriol Shepard had only heard from her when talking about geth before. "I am not your fleet sister, tuho." She turned back to Shepard. "Fragmentary signals from the north, possibly just outside the main colony stack."

The female civilian quarian engineer nodded. "That's the main mech control and repair center, makes sense for Veetor to be there."

Shepard tapped her private comm circuit, killing her helmet's speakers. "Vigil, can your mechs clear us a path to the following location?" She transmitted the scanner reading, and Vigil's smug voice sounded in her ear a moment later.

"Of course. I sent an avatar down to the surface, and am in the process of reprogramming the mechs I've downed so far. I'll use them to police up the scene once we leave. I'm also monitoring comms arrays – several people have tried to reach the colony since it went dark and the Systems Alliance just got word that they can't get a response from the FTL comm relay. You have about five hours before elements of the nearest scout flotilla hit the system." A pause. "Amusing. The nearest scout group appears to be your old battlegroup.

She snarled. "Great." Clicking off, she slung her Harrier and drew her ODIN. "We have a deal. Your people stay behind mine, try to use your info-war systems and your drones to take out incoming drones and light mechs. We need to move fast, the Alliance is aware of the situation and … well, they're not likely to want news of this getting out. No idea what they might do to your friend."

Kal'Reegar nodded, drawing a light rifle from its anchor point on his back. "I'd like to think the Alliance was a better ally than that, but … the faster the better. Veetor can't have much longer before he goes into shock. We'll tag along behind you. Have you fought with quarian marine forces before...ah, what should we call you?"

Shepard tilted her head. "Just call me Butcher. Who I was before this is … dead. And yes, I have." She turned away, towards the command center, and the rest fell in.

The next ten minutes went more swiftly as Vigil rerouted his remaining war mechs to cover the group's advance. The few mechs they did run into were swiftly deactivated by the quarians, who seemed to be very good at remote hacking using omni-links rather than wireless systems. Miranda passed the time quietly asking questions about what other defenses they might face, as well as what modifications they'd made to the colony mechs.

Kal'Reegar's voice was grim. "Mostly repairs and augmentations to allow them to do double duty as mining mechs or military ones, but the Vetra-sath robot had augmented kinetic barriers and a Kaurkai Hailstorm assault gun replacing its lower left arm. We upgraded the servos and hydraulics on it and Veetor was tinkering with the onboard VI."

Jacob cursed. "Boss, a lance cannon has a bad chance at dropping a MJOLNIR, but I might as well be throwing spitballs at a VS. That's the kind of thing you bring a couple of HAMMRHEAD tanks or a full lance of Agamemnon battle-suits to fight."

Shepard ducked past a fallen set of power conduits and made a dismissive wave of the hand. "Meh, sounds like I'll finally get a fight. Aren't you guys confident of what you did with me?"

Miranda groaned. "I'd rather not determine just what your limits are...do you have any idea how much it costs to refit damaged blueware? You are not invicible."

The mirror-faced helm turned to face Miranda over one shoulder, and Miranda could almost feel the feral grin on Shepard's face. "It may be big and tough, but you have clearly forgotten who you're fucking with."

Tali's voice was dry. "Nice to see you haven't lost any bravado. I was wondering when you were going to do something to get us all nearly killed. _Again_."

Shepard found herself laughing.

**O-TWCD-O**

The area near the base of the main colony stack – a conglomeration of the core parts of several colony vessels, thick power conduit mains, stacks of colony modules and thick plates of armor – was surrounded by several low slung hardened plascrete bunkers, each one with heavy kinetic barrier shielding over them. Two of the bunkers had holes melted in them – the only battle damage Shepard had seen thus far – and the generators atop each were slag piles of now cold metal.

Kal'Reegar stopped at the sight. "Those were capital-ship level barrier generators! The bunker on the left was the primary armory, and the one on the right was where the colony leaders met for official business. Whatever melted them..."

Shepard sniffed. "Wasn't fucking around. Check. What about the main stack?"

The female quarian engineer, who Shepard had found out was named Forzan, spoke up. "It was almost entirely given over to the power generators, omni-foundries and the like – I admired the colonists for being almost quarian in their re-purposing of equipment from the colony ships. It was also part of the old penal colony, and not many people lived there..."

Shepard shrugged. "Alright. Which one is the mech control center?"

Kal'Reegar gestured to the right, towards a building with a series of antennas atop it. She nodded and moved forward cautiously, stepping into the semi-circular plaza area around the base of the colony stack.

As she did so, she saw an appalling splatter of quarian blood and bits of what looked to be quarian armor, a moment before a heavy clanking sound echoed through the thin air. Stepping from behind a tall stack of cargo crates nearly as tall it it was, a heavily armored machine emerged, covered in thick golden armor and emblazoned with bold, splashy salarian script along the torso.

Unlike a human mech, the thing stood on three heavily armored, cocked back legs shaped much like a salarian's legs. It had no head, two wide bands of sensors crisscrossing the armored chest, and the shoulders hulked higher than a human mech, to make room for the four arms. Each arm was tipped with an omni-shield covering a different weapon – a mini-gun of some kind, a multi-barrel grenade launcher, a heavy mass cannon, and a weapon of four oval barrels surrounding some kind of triangular opening.

Metal decking splintered or crumpled under its massive weight as it stomped forward, a string of salarian speech in a dull tone erupting from its speakers. Shepard's omni-tool translated it a moment later.

**"Obtaining targets. Obliterating."**

Shepard immediately kanquessed forward and then threw herself into a diving roll, snapping out a pair of EMP grenades. They burst with a flash of white light, but the robot ignored them, arcs of electricity crackling over its surface.

Shepard tucked up against another cargo crate, tapping her comms. "Kal'Reegar, the thing is EMP hardened?"

The quarian's deep voice took on a slightly sheepish tone. "Em, yes ma'am. It's built to take on...well, pretty much anything."

Shepard sighed. "Alright. Have your people hit it with plasma and tie it up with drones. Taylor, see if you can't use your lance cannon to weaken the omni-shields over the weapons, and you and Miranda try keeping it tied up with biotics. Sedanya, stay back and use your biotics defensively to protect everyone."

Tali spoke. "And me?"

Shepard snorted. "You're with me. Watch for my opening and hit it with your strongest attacks."

Miranda's voice was thin and tense. "Sh..._Butcher, _this is not something we can take out with conventional weapons! The entire main body is composed of Silaris armor!"

Shepard snorted. "I've got a lot of anger I haven't gotten out of my system yet, and this thing is going to get it." She shipped her weapon – Lawson was absolutely right about the damage that they could do with that – instead prepping two hi-ex grenades and shifting her power allocation to speed and reflexes.

She'd been playing with the kanquess, realizing she could control it much more sharply with the blueware integrated into her bio-amp. She took a deep breath and shifted her reflex controls to her cybernetic eyes.

"Try to keep up."

Kal'Reegar had seen some very impressive feats of arms over his career, from Admiral Rael'Zorah taking out a geth ravager in hand to hand combat to the psychotic mess aboard the Citadel during the Benezia Incident with Shepard and her people. He'd seen powerful asari use their biotics before.

Watching the Butcher was on an entirely different level. She flashed into the air with a biotic charge so fast it left nothing but a blue streak in the air, snapping out grenades and warpfire, then another, and another – moving between each charge in mid-air, like she was teleporting.

The machine opened fire with everything, missiles and streams of fire soaring towards her. She pushed off the ground biotically, flipping _through _the fire without even taking a hit, arching her back to slide over a missile that missed her by inches, to come down right in front of the thing before it could re-target its weapons. A blinding flare of biotic light erupted and the machine's entire front exploded into blue warpfire, the sheer force of it sending the Vetra-sath staggering back. Only its tripodal stance kept it from crashing to the ground.

The Butcher flashed away again, and immediately the two humans behind Kal'Reegar erupted into their own biotic attacks, waves of light washing over the machine, which was still covered in slow burning biotic fire. There was a violent humming sound and then two heavy, shuddering explosions that sent it staggering back yet another step.

Kal'Reegar launched his drone program then, along with his two fellow quarians, hammering the machine with micro-missiles, as the bigger, male human stopped his biotic attack to fire the heavy lance cannon at the lower arm.

The machine steadied itself, smoke rising from the armor plating, and raised both upper arms in an X-shape. Heavy omni-fields projected from its arm assemblies, shielding it against the storm of missiles, while the lower two arms began tracking and firing.

A single blast of mass accelerated flechettes, glowing white hot, smashed out, tearing a cargo crate in half and blasting the hastily erected biotic shield the asari the back threw up. That narrow blue wall only held for a moment before sundering, scattering burning metal in all directions, but it broke the inertia behind the attack enough that when it struck the team's cover they all survived.

The male engineer quarian howled in agony as a splinter of decking impacted his leg, denting the suit armor and sending him to the ground. Jacob stammered out curses as his barrier came apart, flechettes pinging off his armor for the most part, but a few nicked past the thick plates of metal to draw blood.

Miranda hissed as her own barrier shattered, tucking herself back further into cover as the flechette tore wide, angry holes into the decking and plascrete walls around her. Tali used this moment to finish a program on her omni-tool, a blast of plasma flashing out to not hit the machine but strike a series of glowing power conduits overhead.

An explosion rocked the colony stack as hundreds of pounds of ionized plasma fell upon the machine, overloading its kinetic barrier in a single flash of white-red power. The Vetra-sath stomped through the slurry, ignoring the molten metal the decking under its stomping feet had become, but sections of the armor over its torso and right arm were glowing white hot, while the upper left arm slumped into a mass of sparking, slumping metal that slowly sloughed off the robot's side.

The machine continued to move forward, and Tali cursed. "Fall back! We need cover!"

Shepard grimaced and focused, pushing her will and biotics onto the heavy cargo crate she'd landed behind. She put all her force into a throw field and launched it.

A moment later it felt as if her entire nervous system exploded, and she fell to both knees gasping in agony. Alarms and warnings flashed across her artificial vision as she coughed, droplets of blood and something else spraying across the mouthpiece of her helmet.

The calm voice of the onboard VI medical system sounded in her ears, which were ringing. "Warning. Power failure, biotic bridge components six, fifteen, nineteen. Automatic shutdown initiated. Tissue damage."

She shook her head as she tried to clear her vision, her whole body shaking, and managed to look up.

The cargo crate she'd hurled was some fifteen feet long and five wide, heavily loaded with raw ore. She'd thought she'd be able to shove it across the ground, tripping the machine up. Instead she'd lifted the entire thing off the ground and flung it, striking it directly in the chest.

The neat white stenciling on the now deformed cargo crate read "1000 kilograms, crushed iron ore". The war robot had been smashed all the way into the base of the colony stack, one leg sheared off instantly, much of the robot's center mass smashed inwards.

Not taking any chances, Tali had been the only one capable of overcoming her shock and awe enough to spray plasma over the mess of spilled and crushed iron ore and splintered armor, melting it over and atop the critically damaged war machine. A moment later she stood up, running nimble fingers over he omni-tool.

"...I think you killed it."

Shepard winced as an agonizing bolt of pain tore across her skull, as if someone had slammed an ax blade into her forehead. She coughed weakly and shakily got to her feet. "Y-yeah."

Miranda and Sedanya both hurried to her side, the asari reaching to stabilize her. "You need to sit down. Goddess of stars and sun, how Athame's name did you _do that?_ A Priestess couldn't lift that container, much less hurl it through the air!"

Miranda frowned, her omni getting information from the onboard telemetry in Shepard's suit. "This isn't good. You completely blew out the power-links and limiters from your bio-amp to your blueware! If you'd pushed any more power into this you'd have fried your own brains!"

Shepard nodded weakly. "Yeah I … think .. I over did it. Having some problems seeing, static in my vision."

Miranda's expression was both worried and furious, but she took a calming breath, and nodded back. "Very well. We can't do anything to fix it here, we need the med-bay back at our base. Can you walk?"

Shepard nodded. "...pretty sure I can."

Kal'Reegar slowly walked over to the crushed form of the VS robot, a sixty million credit machine that had taken down multiple tanks and even a pair of gunboats in a test demonstration. It had hundreds of pounds of pure plasma dumped on it and had pretty much walked it off.

And the Butcher crushed it with a biotic _throw. _

The quarian strike captain swallowed carefully, his quills rigid, and measured his tone into guarded respect. "...what in the name of the ancestors _are _you?"

Shepard paused, the elongated helmet with its blank face plate tilting to one side, before speaking a single word.

"Complicated."

**O-TWCD-O**

The interior of the mech control center was darkened, flashing telemetry screens and security camera feeds flitting around a semi-circular plinth of controls.

As Shepard continued to lean on Tali'Zorah's arm, she glanced around. The room was dominated by the rows of racked computers, a bank of vacuum-accelerated picosystem computers comprising the core of the system. Bulky cases of various mech parts lurked in the shadowy corners of the room.

Sitting in the middle of the displays, shaking and tapping various controls, was a slender quarian. His mask had a hairline crack across the faceplate, and the heavy pack on his back was blackened and melted in several places. His movements were frantic, but almost clumsy, and he swayed in place several seconds as he looked up.

Kal'Reegar stepped forward, hands empty and held wide. "Veetor'Nara, it is me, Kal. Are you alright?"

"Kal? No, no no. All dead. Monsters coming. Seeking. Stinging. Won't find me, no no no. Positron flow emitters to shield, increased electrical discharge five point two seven nine nine six...can't find, won't find, coming back. Must hide."

Jacob gave a sigh. "Maybe the whole six-pack is there if he can hack mechs, but clearly the little plastic thingy holding it together is missing in this guy."

Shepard found herself smiling at that, faintly, before stepping forward herself, shaking off her dizziness. Static erupted across her vision for a second but she kept her voice steady. "Veetor'Nara. We need your help. We aren't here to hurt you."

Something about her cold, hard voice reached him.

"Are you ...Human...no no no. All humans gone. Taken. Stinging. Not human. How did you escape?"

Shepard folded her arms. "We weren't here. We came after. Nothing is going to harm you. We need to know what happened here."

The quarian shuddered. "Monsters."

Kal'Reegar frowned behind his mask, his faintly glowing eyes narrowing. "That's what Prazza said. What happened, Veetor?"

Veetor touched his omni-tool, and the large display screen behind him leapt to life. "Monsters. I was here, power conduit blew up. Hit my support pack, cracked helmet. Fell out. Called for Prazza. Then the VI collapsed. Never seen it … hacked so fast...whole network gone. Gone."

Shepard glanced at Tali, who gave a slow shake of her head. Shepard spoke. "This looks to be a powerful system...how was it taken out so fast?"

Veetor's voice was shaky. "No way to know. Too fast. Tried to turn on defenses, wouldn't work. No responding. All the mechs shutdown. Had the manual reboot. Tried. Then the monsters came."

Tapping another control, an image appeared on the big viewscreen. It was a large, cylindrical ship, sheathed here and there in spars of rocky material, loops and whorls of hard, dark metal forming a support for the core. Flaring energies lashed out at the ground with surgical precision, then a dark cloud erupted from it as it began to land.

Veetor's voice fell to a whisper. "They came. Freezing. Stinging. Insects. Took scans. Tried to, readings made no sense. No sense. Too much energy, too much power." On the screen the clouds of darkness broke into what had to be millions of what looked like fist sized winged insects of some kind. They flowed like a wave over the colony, and every time they touched a human a flare of some kind of greenish energy washed over them, freezing them in place."

Sedanya leaned forward. "Fascinating. Some kind of … stasis? Is that biotic? It can't be projected, there's no energy source..."

Veetor's voice rose. "Dark energy. Swirls of waste heat, spikes of dark energy – recorded on my omni-tool, manually patched the main surveillance cameras. Kept trying to reboot the network. Got a few mechs to respond. Tried to help. Shut my people in clean room, keep them safe."

Kal'Reegar looked up. "That was _you_? Why?"

Veetor pointed at the screen, where the figure of Prazza could been seen staggering, waving at the insects. The bugs flowed over him as if the quarian didn't exist, until he pulled out a weapon and started firing at them.

Then two flares of light erupted from behind him, revealing tall beings in heavy drapes of black, hexagonal patterned cloth. Hard carapace like skin and bunched, heavy muscles moved, and the two figures literally tore Prazza limb from limb in a matter of seconds. Yellow glowing eyes glanced around, as more of the things descended on what looked like vast wings.

Miranda's voice was filled with horrified awe. "Those are Collectors. Dear God, the Illusive Man was right."

Shepard frowned at Miranda's thoughtless statement, but the quarians did not seem to have noticed, horrified at the sight of Prazza's brutal murder. Veetor's voice was quieter, even as the figures began collecting the humans and piling them into organic looking hover-pods of some kind.

"They subdued the colony so fast. Stinging insects got everywhere, into everything. I stayed here. I hid, didn't moved. Insects came in, left. Monsters took everyone. Hundreds of them. Some piled into the pods. The rest..."

Shepard could only watch as mass of paralyzed humans not gathered up began to move, jerkily. While hundreds, perhaps thousands were being loaded into the pods, the humans that were ignored slowly got to their feet and began to walk to the ship.

Shepard's breath caught along with Tali's when they saw the skin of the humans begin to shrivel. As they staggered along like zombies, their flesh began to contract and writhe, dark blotches of corrupted matter erupting over them. Their eyes exploded in sprays of vapor and burning blue dots erupted into each set of sockets, as their flesh grayed from moment to moment.

"Husks. They turned most of the colonists into fucking _husks_. Motherfucking Reapers."

Kal'Reegar stared and then turned to Shepard. "...wait. I know that term! That is what the geth did to the humans of Eden Prime!"

Shepard nodded grimly. "Yes. Yes it is."

Kal'Reegar's voice grew hard and grim. "The collectors are allied with **_geth_**?!"

Tali's voice dripped with hatred. "Worse than geth."

Veetor's hands touched another omni-tool control, the images shifting. "They took them all. Marched them to the ship. Hauled away the bodies. Insects ate up the blood, ignored me. Then they left. Rebooted the mechs...yes. Set the defenses...killed the wireless so the monsters couldn't hack them. Safe now. But they'll be back for us. No one escapes. No one escapes..."

Kal'Reegar slowly approached Veetor, carefully taking a hold of the smaller quarian's arm and gently pulling him away. "Butcher. Veetor needs...medical care. Assuming our ship is unmolested, we can take care of him there. You are free to take whatever data you need from this place, and I'll copy whatever Veetor has on his omni and give it to you as soon as we stabilize him."

Miranda's voice was cool. "We might need to ask him more questions..."

Kal'Reegar's voice took on a pleading note. "Ma'am, he's not in any condition to really answer much of anything. The longer he's like this the more of a chance he'll go into toxic shock and die."

Tali's voice was as cool as Miranda's. "There is more at stake than the life of one _quarian_. Doesn't the Flotilla still fill your heads with the trash that the many are more important than the few?"

Shepard held up a hand. "That's _enough_. Kal'Reegar, take your … nutjob friend and go. Vigil, can you copy Veetor's omni from where you are?"

The smug voice rang out across the open comm. "Already done, primitive. And here I thought human programming was sloppy...quarian data integrity is appalling."

Kal'Reegar gave a confused look at Shepard, then at Veetor's omni, which flickered and flashed red as it showed it had been compromised. "How in Idenna's name – "

Shepard's voice was almost amused. Almost. "You really, really don't want to know, Kal'Reegar. Like I said, we got what we needed. Take your people and go."

The big marine almost said something else, but the male quarian engineer laid a hand on his armored shoulder. "Kal...can we not antagonize the asari who just c_rushed a trht'a war machine with her mind_? Veetor needs help now."

Kal'Reegar exhaled. "Of course. Thank you... Butcher." He paused. "I … fought briefly with Sara Shepard on the Citadel. I can't help but think she might approve of what you've been doing, but she was more than just a killing machine."

The laughter from the Butcher was ironic, cold, and terrifying. It wasn't a fun sound, full of pain and something darker, something worse, something not entirely sane. "Yeah, and look what that got her in the end?"

Kal'Reegar nodded, hooking an arm around Veetor and lifting the delirious quarian over his shoulder. "All the same...I thank you for helping me to save Veetor's life...and for saving ours. We would have died in that crate when we ran out of air otherwise. Keelah se'lah."

The other two quarians bowed shallowly, following Kal'Reegar as he left. With a sharp exhale of breath, Shepard shook her head. "Tali...I know that probably wasn't easy for you...I appreciate you keeping it together."

Tali nodded sharply. "That at the end wasn't easy for you either, Sara. And Kal'Reegar … wasn't a bad person. But when my father hurt Jeff, he acted to … restrain me instead of my father. That, I won't forgive him for, ever." She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Let me download this from the system … do we leave it here or wipe it?"

Shepard looked at Miranda. "Thoughts? Cluing the SA into who is behind this shit might help us down the line."

Miranda nodded slowly. "True. But we've let the quarians go – they'll tell their bosses the Butcher was here. I don't know if they'll buy that pieced together video of Veetor or not."

Jacob folded his arms. "What do we have to lose by letting them view it?"

Shepard shook her head. "Nothing. Jacob, Sedanya, Miranda, get back to the shuttle and bring it here. I'm going to record my own message for them while Tali copies everything. Then we pull up stakes."

Miranda frowned, putting her hands on her hips. "Shepard..."

The woman in white armor just turned away. "My show, my rules. Right?"

**O-TWCD-O**

"Captain Delacor, we're here."

Humanity's only Spectre nodded from the command chair of the SCV Kazan, grimacing as he awaited the reports from the sensor probes. After being in command of Shepard's old task force for the past two years, he was beginning to wonder if he should have turned down being a Spectre.

They paired him with the irritating traitor-bitch made into an officer, Ashley Williams, who seemed to dislike him on some intense, internal level he never understood – that was when she wasn't distracted by her toddler son, Kaisen. The woman was a good solider – a great soldier, actually – but intolerant, too religious for his taste, and constantly comparing him to Shepard.

The idea of someone seeing Shepard as a better Spectre – or anything else – than him was as infuriating was it was darkly amusing.

As he watched the science team examine their data, his eyes slide to the stiff, disapproving form of Commissar-Colonel Jiong. Another one of Shepard's old people, the stiff-faced Commissar was constantly watching Delacor for signs of disobedience.

He'd been informed right after being tapped for Spectre that the Commissariat knew about his links to General Rachel Florez, including how he was sabotaging Shepard's career on her orders. He'd protested that he was indeed following orders from a superior, orders he agreed with given Shepard's mental issues before she'd become a Spectre, but Jiong had sneered and looked as him as if he were road fungus.

Two years of being under the spotlight. Two years of people comparing him to a woman they'd turned into a saint, ignoring her past, her bloody-handed murderousness, her cruelty. For a while towards the end of her life he'd softened his views on Shepard, but two years of being told that despite surviving everything he'd gone through – a dead wife, dead family, dead world, dead unit, and every misfortune possible – that he was not even good enough to truly fill her shoes had infuriated him.

The fact that they just recycled everything that she'd earned to give to him was even more insulting. Admiral Ahern outright hated him, and Citadel Councilor, Udina, rarely if ever gave him the time of day. The battle duty officer Cole still served on the Kazan, but was requesting a transfer to Eden Prime – and the weapons officer, Colms, who had survived the destruction of the Normandy, had surrendered his commission and become some kind of goddamned Shepard fan-boy.

The apologetic voice of the science officer spoke. "Sir...we have some initial signs on the surface of combat, very fragmentary. Looks like something huge must have landed north of the colony...there's a few wrecked mechs here and there, but not enough to account for the expected mech population...and no life signs whatsoever."

Delacor nodded. "Comms activity? Defense networks?"

The comms officer, a mousy looking lieutenant named Traynor who always looked like someone had kicked her puppy, gave a morose sigh, then frowned. "...there's an incoming signal."

Delacor straightened, as did Jiong. "Primary screen."

The view of the galaxy map flickered, showing a shadowy room filled with computer equipment. Light filtered down dimly from above, casting the figure standing in the middle of the image into a jagged half-light of hard angles and shadowy recesses.

The voice that spoke sounded vaguely familiar somehow, with a ringing contralto that had a hint of anger and something else in it. "I can only presume that our cousins in the Alliance will eventually show up to investigate the vanishing of more humans from one of your independent colonies. I am sorry to tell you that no waves from this shore will ever see the sea again."

The figure stepped into the light more clearly, the bone white armor and asari-style helmet instantly recognizable. "I am the Butcher. As you no doubt have discovered by now, I have been cleaning up the mess in the Traverse for the past few weeks. I was thinking the colonies were taken by slaving filth, which I put to the fire and blade in the manner that would make a Justicar – or our lovely Commissar cousins – proud. The guilty, as I believe you say, must burn."

Jiong smothered a small grin. "I like this Butcher."

Delacor rolled his eyes. "You would. Quiet."

The Butcher folded her arms. "Sadly, the criminals here are not some band of vile batarians or honorless turians. A quarian engineering team was on the world and one of their members captured video of who took your colonists. I have made copies of it – I have my own mission to complete – but I left the originals on the computer banks here. I have no doubt your own experts will need to verify they aren't fabrications, but the quarian party here was with us when we found the data. The person in charge of that party was a Strike Captain Kal'Reegar vas Moreh – he can verify that what we found is … very real."

The woman raised one hand. "I am aware – more than you are – of the nature of your human government, of the dissonance between the acts of the public eye and the true power of your version of the Thirty. I am aware your people suppress a great deal of the truth – as do the asari, and the salarians, and no doubt every other race. But this threat goes beyond your pitiful politics, or your paranoid worries of survival. Did not your Victor Manswell say 'Some threats are worse than that of death'? This is one."

The figure leaned forward. "The ones abducting your colonists are the Collectors. And they are using Reaper technology. If you don't know what that means, notify Fleet Master Dragunov – assuming the vile bastard is still the Fleet Master – and President Huerta, along with the High Commandant. The threat is dire and cannot be ignored."

The Butcher leaned back, glancing at her omni-tool, and amusement and something darker colored her voice. "By the time you get this we'll be long gone, don't bother trying to track us. I'm sure your masters are worried about me, but you have an entirely more serious problem on your plate right now."

The figure tilted its head. "I made a bit of a mess down here, but there's a prototype salarian war droid just outside the place where you'll find this message coming from. Tell the Salarian Union their shit is weak and I've taken harder shots in a bar than from this thing."

The image flickered out. A moment later, Ashley Williams covered her mouth to hide a smile. "I gotta say, Skipper, for someone 'play-acting' at being as hard as Shepard was, she's got the lingo down.

Jiong coughed. "Quite. That was very nearly as Neanderthal as something she might have said herself." His expression dropped into sadness for a second before blanking and turning to face Delacor. "I presume you will wish to communicate this to the Admiralty?"

Delacor sighed. "Yeah. First, though, let's get down there and see what we can find. Have Cole and Chief Engineer Patrick meet me at the pinnace with Beta Squad." He grimaced. "Let's go, Williams."

She nodded, as did Jiong, and Delacor headed for the lift. He had a bad feeling about this.


	12. Arc II : Oops, I did it again

_**A/N**:  
_

_Hey gang.  
_

_I did my best with this one. Thanks for those of you who helped out on Google Docs. Some of you will notice ideas you had sent in PMs appearing here, thank you.  
_

_The chapter kind of jumps around...lots of things going on at the same time. _

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

_EDIT 8-27-15 for stupidity_

* * *

_'The guy's last partner got killed by a fucking meteor strike. IN SPACE. What in the Five Oceans did I do to piss you off now?'_

_-Tela Vasir, upon learning she was partnered with Jason Delacor_

* * *

The return to the asteroid base was done as swiftly as possible, the Normandy's stealth systems on full as she flew through the deserted FTL lanes towards home base.

Getting back to the shuttle had been a bit of a trial, as Shepard had a bit of difficulty with walking and her eyes continued to malfunction. As a result, once they were safely aboard, she ended up spending the bulk of the travel time in the sickbay, connected to diagnostic scanners, as Tali and Miranda spent a good twenty minutes getting her hooked into the specialized medical bed and Taylor took her armor up to her quarters for her, promising to clean out her helmet where she'd spat blood into it.

Sedanya made clucking noises over the minor wounds Shepard had taken, all of which had already self-healed, the artificial skin slowly regrowing. Shepard rolled her eyes and leaned back, going over the mission in her head.

Static interrupted her vision now and again, and the slight nervous tremors she'd had after the throw she'd performed were getting worse. As Miranda made a copy of the diagnostics and headed to her office to transmit them and the mission report, Tali sat and chatted with Shepard, while Sedanya moved to the workstation in the far wall of the med-bay to begin reviewing the medical data from Shepard's onboard medical VI.

Tali's voice was quietly wry as she spoke, tapping her omni to make her face visible through her mask.

"You know, Sara. After seeing video of you punching out that Geth Prime and now this, I think you have a problem with blowing yourself up when taking down big robots. Perhaps you need what Jeff calls an intervention."

Shepard snorted. "Don't forget the Colossus on Noveria."

Tali shook her head. "That one doesn't count, Liara blew it up." Her voice was sad for a second, and Shepard forced herself to smile.

"Yeah. God, if Liara hadn't stopped that blast, we'd all have been dead right there." She swallowed, and Tali squeezed her shoulder, still marveling at how natural said shoulder felt.

After a moment of silence, Shepard's blue eyes flickered to Tali's faceplate. "I probably shouldn't have taken you down there. I didn't know what we were heading into and there were quarians down there, so I figured it would be a good idea." She paused, searching for words. "Ahern would be ashamed of me, the way I'm acting. You'd think I'd have learned a bit more sense by now. It's just..."

Tali squeezed again. "It's okay. I needed to go, I had to see … how I felt facing my own people. And you needed me to go. After feeling useless and unable to help for years, it is _nice_ to be needed." She smiled sadly. "I'm the only one from the old squad still around, after all. I didn't go through hell with that bosh'tet Ahern to sit around on the ship, Sara. You know I have your back if you need it."

Shepard nodded. "And as much as I hate to admit it, Tali, I do. I have no fucking idea what I'm doing. How to feel. When I go into battle it's like the old Butcher just comes out and … moves me. I'm not even aware of how I move sometimes because I keyed my reflexes to sensors that process faster than I can think. I was dodging the fire down there because the computer in my head calculated the trajectory of the accelerator rounds before they even fired and got me out of the way. Like a puppet." She sighed. "I worry..."

The smaller quarian woman bit her lip. "About?"

Shepard twitched, grimacing as static flooded her vision for a second. "Lots of things. I worry about how much of me is me and how much of me is a goddamned move-by-wire robot. Sometimes I start to think 'hey, this is kinda cool' and then I remembered I fucking _died._ I worry about what's going to happen when the truth finally comes out. How people are going to react. I worry about the shit down the line. I worry about the fact that Miranda and Wilson still won't level with me on how long I really have before my zombie ass starts coming apart at the seams."

She lifted a hand, closing it into a fist slowly. "And...shit, Tali. Watching that pack of evil fuckers just _murder_ an entire colony like cleaning out an ant nest was bad shit to see. The stupid bastards down there had an army of top-tier mechs and enough firepower to hold off an invasion and the Collectors just … treated it like an _irritation_. What's to stop them from pulling this shit on a more heavily populated world?" She swallowed. "I worry most of all I'm not good enough to stop them."

Tali turned to face her directly. "You aren't in this alone. We are going to stop them, Shepard. You stopped Saren, you stopped Benezia, you stopped that krith'tet Ylana. You stopped Balak. You can stop this too."

Shepard smiled sardonically. "We were lucky not to get killed against Saren and almost did. Ash killed him. Benezia beat my ass like a drum, Liara dropped her. Ylana was too crazy to do any damage and Balak...I still don't even know what he was really up to, or if I stopped it or played right into his hands. I feel like a fucking fake."

Tali tilted her head. "What kind of 'fake' smashes a twenty foot tall war robot with a basic biotic attack?"

Shepard gestured at the scanners. "The kind of fake that can't do it without blowing herself up. You can see where that got me." She sighed. "I don't mean to act like what Ahern would call an emo shitfaced clown. I'm just...the scale of this shit just hit me."

Tali nodded. "It hit me too. It hit me when they first showed me what was left of you...but …" She looked down at her hands, one hidden away by the suit, the other artificial steel and myomer. "Neither of us is the same as we used to be. Half of me is gone. My family is .. lost to me, everything I struggled for and worked for in my old life is gone. Down there, looking at my own people, I felt nothing but … hate. I used to wonder how Kiala could be so mean and spiteful to me. Now I wonder how she was able to hold back her resentment."

The young quarian woman's voice tightened. "And then I look back at my own life and how _stupid _I was. I remember being irritated at those asari engineers back at Pinnacle because they didn't drop everything and explain their technology to me, as if I was still the admiral's daughter and the world rotated around me. I complained about being sheltered and being seen as nothing more than a puppet...and then when I'm on my own, I spent most of my time whining I wasn't important."

Shepard frowned. "Tali..."

Tali shook her head. "No. I get what you mean. You worry you aren't up to the task. But I guess what I'm saying is that I feel like a fake sometimes too. I followed in your wake because I was scared of losing Jeff. And when I convinced him to come with me, I didn't stand up for myself or him. I let Jeff get hurt. Then I ran away. And now I've tied myself to an organization that is best known for killing aliens, and I've dragged the only other friends I have into it as well."

She folded her arms. "Sometimes we have to stop telling ourselves that we can't do it – there's no one else." Tali smiled, displaying sharp teeth. "Or as Ahern would put it... tell yourself you're the baddest of the bad and keep stepping."

Shepard chuckled. "You've gotten good at this motivational speech thing."

Tali shrugged. "I had to … do that a lot with Jeff, I guess. He is down on himself a lot. After you … well, died – he blamed himself. That if he'd been healthy he could have gotten himself free, and gotten Pressly out of there, and you wouldn't have gotten killed."

Shepard sighed. "What bullshit. I'll talk with him. Whoever took us out was after me – they turned away from the escape pods the second I transmitted. I knew I was dead the moment they started shooting the pods." She grunted. "I guess I should have picked up on that. He's...quieter than he used to be. But I'm not much better at picking up signals."

Tali looked up. "Yes, he is quieter. But he is still good at faking, so I'm not surprised you didn't see it. He lies to himself almost as much as he does everyone else." The alien girl's eyes narrowed, the thin bloodless lips drawing down into a frown. "And … I don't feel good about it a lot of times. I love him – keelah, I love him so much – but I'm not much of a consolation prize for having the shit beat out of you, losing your career and being what he thinks is a disappointment to his parents. It's up to me to keep his spirits up."

Shepard smiled, closing her eyes as another burst of static hit. "Ugh...now the static thing is making me feel dizzy."

Tali patted Shepard's arm. "We'll be at the base soon enough and get you fixed."

**O-TWCD-O**

When they docked, Miranda and Sedanya put Shepard into a hover platform specialized for her form and transported her to the medical wing, moving her into the support medical gantry that comprised the center of the main medical room and then heading into the side room, an elevated platform that overlooked the medical arena. As Shepard laid there, Miranda's voice came over the intercom.

"Shepard, we're seeing some minor but serious internal damage. We're going to have to swap the cybernetic eyes, so we are going to cut them off. There's some damage to your internal heat sinks and the nerve underlays to your blueware. Your cyberware filters are going down and your pain editor is going on full, we'll be sedating you."

Shepard gave a thin, faint smile. "Whatever needs to be done." Miranda nodded.

In the medical control room, Miranda grimaced and tapped a series of controls on the haptic panel in front of her, glancing to one side as Wilson and Saylish Six-Hawks entered the room from the far door. The lean Sioux gave a soft sigh as he entered, holding a set of data displays, while Wilson merely folded his arms.

Miranda put the two specialist doctors to work – Wilson would fix up the cybernetic issues with the eyes and the gross repairs while Six-Hawks would deal with the blueware and bio-amp issues. After giving them a quick briefing and the diagnostic files, she waited patiently to review their plans of action.

\Miranda nodded, as Six-Hawks finished. "That would appear to be a workable plan. Make sure you keep in contact with the crash medical team in case anything goes wrong, and I'll be nearby. I have a report to make. Contact Chambers when you're done to run recovery." She turned on a heel, walking to the lifts, organizing her thoughts as she headed to the communications center.

Arriving in the QEC chamber a few minutes later, she tapped a series of controls and waited. Roughly a minute later, the machine pinged apologetically, and the golden-tinted image of her leader appeared, sitting in his usual chair.

"Miranda. I can only assume, based on the report, that there is more to the mission than a confirmation that you were successful."

She inclined her head. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry for the length, but there was a great deal to cover."

He waved a hand. "Details. We'll get to those in a bit. Highlights first."

She took a deep breath and nodded. She knew Harper well enough to know that the casual gesture was anything but. "Your surmise was accurate – the Collectors hit Freedom's Progress. The various defenses they had in place were singularly incapable of even hindering the assault. I've already forwarded you recovered footage taken by a quarian engineer on-site. He also collected various sensor readings, although I'm less sure of what to do with those."

He waited and flicked something to one side of his chair a few seconds later, watching intently. Several times during the video, the blue-glowing rings in his eyes rotated, shifting as he focused, a minor trait that never failed to send chills down Miranda's spine. She didn't know what kind of cybernetic enhancements the glowing rings gave him, and he never talked about them.

When the video was done, he leaned back, tilting his head slightly and puffing on his cigarette before speaking. "Curious. Impressive technology, or biotechnology to be exact, but it doesn't give us many clues as to the why, only the who. What is your analysis, Miranda?"

She paused, thinking. "The Collectors seemed intent on capturing the colony's population, nothing else. They ignored a great deal of already mined, high value minerals on the surface and did not appear to engage in any sort of salvaging. They were able to completely subdue all automatic and electronic defenses as well as somehow elude both the system sensor net and our own spy drones, and I suspect they probably were suppressing any communications from the planet as well."

He nodded slowly. "And these insect-like swarms that caused the stasis effect? Any ideas?"

She shrugged. "Only conjectural at this point, sir. Doctor Sedanya did mention that the stasis effect looked biotic. The resolution of the video is too blocky to provide many visual details about the swarm components, but from what little I understood of the sensor logs, they might be cybernetic."

The Illusive Man nodded. "Indeed?" He paused, reviewing something in the video, then nodded. "If the logs match up with the video, there's a spike of heat energy and hard radiation every time a colonist is put into stasis. It is possible that such is powered by drawing on ambient heat."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. The most basic power of pull used such a method, but other powers were unable to due so for a host of reasons. Being able to power biotic attacks via ambient heat was the holy grail of biotic research, and evidence suggested the Protheans could do so. "Is that even possible?"

Harper shrugged. "That would depend on if the quarian engineer's sensor logs are accurate. Given the Collector's advanced technology, it seems dangerous to presume otherwise." His voice took on a musing note."A biotic machine, a replicable effect that can be used on the battlefield – something not even the most crazed salarian or asari research can produce." He shifted his position. "Along with our other goals, Miranda – make it a high priority to see if we can't obtain this technology."

She nodded, and he examined his fingertips. "From the rest of the video and logs, three points stand out to me. First, the capture was done with a priority on stealth – the ship looked poorly suited to direct combat. Second, the Collectors themselves can fly – a nasty tactical problem when it comes time to fight them. Finally, the captured humans are all young and strong. Everyone else was converted to husks, implying they're doing _something _with the captives."

He puffed on the cigarette. "As I said, curious. You have no further insights as to what we're dealing with, I presume?"

Miranda's mind went over the data in her head, but she shook her head in the negative a moment later. "I am sure more can be extrapolated, sir, but I don't have the frame of reference to do so." She paused. "Although the fact that they're doing something with the vanished colonists leaves me with a host of new questions. The Collectors are known for studying genetic drift and the like, what could they be doing with the colonists?"

Jack Harper nodded. "Whatever the fate of the colonists, I find it unlikely to be benign, given what they did to the rest. And turning into husks is clever – they're not wasting resources. An army of husks would be incredibly disruptive on any battlefield. The emphasis on stealth and the ability to neutralize robotic and unmanned defenses means most of the defensive preparations of the Alliance are of questionable utility. And of course, without a counter to these swarms no form of combat can be attempted. Boarding a vessel with those things on it is suicide."

He paused. "Although the fact they did not do anything to the one quarian until he opened fire suggests, possibly, an oversight in their methods." He took another drag off his cigarette before crushing it out. "Should I expect a separate report from Shepard? Your report didn't cover what happened to her besides saying she was hurt."

She sighed. "Eventually. There were...complications, and Shepard is currently under repair."

Both eyebrows came up. "I must admit, after the way she tore through the pirates, I'm rather disappointed something was enough to do serious damage to her." His eyes flicked through the report again. "Which I note a lack of details about aside from 'internal systems damage'." He glanced up at her. "Details?"

Miranda snorted. "She did the damage to herself, sir. She destroyed a prototype salarian war mech with a throw an asari priestess couldn't pull off. There was some feedback from that throw, which damaged heatsinks and her cybernetic eyes – the medical team is correcting, and there are some design flaws in the original design spec Wilson will be making improvements and fixes to correct."

He nodded. "Setbacks of that nature are to be expected. We had very little time to test the various components before having to make them all work with each other. And based on the trawls I'm seeing, whatever she did stirred up a hornet's nest on the Citadel." The blue-glowing eyes fixed onto Miranda's own. "Anything else of note?"

Miranda tapped her omni. "I've sent my preliminary report on the mission. Overall, I would say things went well. We confirmed the Collectors are involved and are using Reaper technology. We confirmed they must have some method of stealth and we have a first look at their suppression technology."

The Illusive Man placed his fingertips together, mouth forming a stern line. "Unfortunately, the other aspects of the operation aren't going as well. The financial cell is still good, but we've had setbacks in keeping some of acquisitions in medical and aerospace hidden and had to cut them loose. Mr. Massani is still not ready, tied up in some kind of mess with his old partner Vido Santiago. Ms. Goto is on Bekenstein and not responding to my calls."

He sipped from his drink. "We have no clear intel on the Sisters of Vengeance or Archangel, although both have been relatively quiet the past few weeks. Most disturbing, given the information you just found, Mordin Solus is no longer on Omega – the good doctor got onto an STG transport not long after Spectre Delacor's team reached the Citadel. I'm still in the process of trying to localize his whereabouts, but it's likely the STG has him looking into the footage from the Collector attack."

Miranda frowned. "I thought he was _former_ STG, sir."

The faint hint of a sardonic smile flickered on Harper's face. "I am not certain the sobriquet 'former' has any real meaning to the STG. In any event, we may have to improvise. The best bet is to go ahead with Shepard's initial plans – move on Korlus and Okeer first, since he may have some idea of what the Collectors are doing. Jack, at least, shouldn't be going anywhere, and that will give my people more time to localize Archangel and the Sisters." He paused. "What does Shepard plan to do after she recovers?"

Miranda folded her arms. "We haven't had a chance to debrief and decide, sir. Based on her personality, I would assume the most aggressive options possible, such as going directly after Okeer and killing him messily."

He nodded. "She very well might. In that case, let her know one more thing. Shepard had a drone collect samples of the damage done to the defense station in orbit around Freedom's Progress, the one that looked as if the Collectors had attacked it."

He exhaled, reaching for a fresh cigarette. "The residue and damage pattern done to the station matches almost exactly with the weapon that destroyed the Normandy." He lit it calmly, smiling faintly as he inhaled and then blew out smoke. "Just so she knows she has a reason to get involved."

**O-TWCD-O**

The main thought in Donnel Udina's mind as he sourly considered the people standing on the supplicant's pier in the Council Chambers was bitterly wry, and he voiced it a moment after thinking it.

"Well, it didn't take long for _this_ situation to go bad, did it?"

He folded his arms, his usual scowl in place as his mind raced to think of the ramifications of what the Council had just heard.

Captain Delacor's investigation of Freedom's Progress – an impromptu affair that occurred solely because he was near the system and his boss, Rear Admiral Schulman, hated him – had turned up a great deal of truly disturbing ideas. The rather scattered footage from the colony – which according to Delacor's comm officer, Lieutenant Traynor, was probably pieced together from security footage routed to an omni-tool – was hardly the highest in quality. But it had enough artifacts and angles that the C-SEC forensic inspectors thought it unlikely it had been forged.

Watching the colony's fate had been chilling enough, but then seeing many colonists be converted into what looked like the same sort of husks that had been seen on Eden Prime turned it from merely bad to panic-inducing. Udina had been somewhat relieved at the Shadow Broker's proffered information, showing no Reaper activity that they could see – but it was becoming very clear that perhaps their arm was longer than originally thought.

Setting that train of thought aside, Udina worried more about the political ramifications.

The idea that the mysterious beings known as Collectors were attacking human colonies was a bombshell for a number of reasons. The Collectors were only known in stories, legends and third-hand reports – a race of enigmatic beings possessing bio-technology and advanced computer technology far in advance of any of the Citadel species, making strange and illogical requests and trades in return for such. The Collectors had never been brought to battle before – the clients they typically dealt with were deranged and sick bio-terrorists, sleazy corporations, or slavers and pirates, none of whom had the need to attack such a lucrative – and dangerous – benefactor.

From what little data could be gathered, it was known that the Collectors were confirmed to be operating out of the Omega 4 relay. Which, Udina sourly reflected, was about right for this mess. It meant that not only did the relay seemingly act as a one-way trip for any ship that attempted it, it was located physically in the deepest part of Aria's space. Any kind of action to contain the Collectors directly would either have to convince Aria to allow a warfleet into her inner defense networks – or fight through them and subdue Aria before commencing a blockade of the Relay – since an assault through said relay was completely impossible.

That meant, even if the Alliance had the political will to fight back, or the Council decided to get involved, the likelihood of being able to do so successfully was nil. Aria had not tolerated any kind of deep violation of her space – much less the system she considered her personal fiefdom – in centuries. She would not tolerate such a long-term incursion into her space for any reason that Udina found even remotely likely, and the cost of maintaining such a blockade would be ruinous in any case.

And aside from blocking the relay and destroying anything that came out of it, there were not a lot of choices. Udina mused that there were certain Alliance black projects that might be of use in at least containing the threat, but he wasn't supposed to know about those, and that would require some careful talking.

And, of course, that wasn't the worst of it.

With the additional information provided by Strike Captain Kal'Reegar, standing next to Captain Delacor below, the situation only grew more dire. The quarian party had done their best to record everything they could about their contact with the mysterious Butcher, only to find their omni-tools and recording devices had been somehow hacked without them even knowing. The technical skill it took to do so was daunting. Their feedback on the Butcher's terrifying combat ability was only matched by the bafflement in being unable to locate the ship they entered the system in.

Even worse was Delacor's initial report on what they found at the site. The Butcher had completely obliterated a giant war robot single-handed, with a feat of biotics that Tevos called impossible. The images and records of the smashed machine, covered in melted iron ore, was its own proof. No one knew who the Butcher answered to, or where she was getting her ships, or her impossible capabilities in stealth, in hacking, and now in biotics. And there was no guarantee she wouldn't turn on them tomorrow.

The message she'd left for Captain Delacor, in particular, was extremely troubling, as it suggested the Butcher not only was deeply familiar with the Alliance but disapproved of it's methods. Particularly, the reference to Fleet Master Dragunov as a 'vile bastard' piqued Udina's interest, as it suggested the Butcher knew him personally.

He chuckled. It was a real shame Shepard was dead, she'd have gotten a real kick out of this crazed homage to her.

The final problem, of course, was of how to respond. With the nature of the situation thus laid out, the Council was continuing to discuss the issues. The Council Chamber had been emptied of onlookers and the like even before the report started, and now it was little more than Delacor and his people, Kal'Reegar and the quarian team, the Council itself, and the so-called High Spectre, Jondam Bau, standing to one side listening.

Udina turned his attention from the sardonic expression of the salarian agent to his fellow councilors and their reaction as they continued to question the people before them. After a second review of the report, Sparatus was the first to speak. "You are _sure _she said 'Reapers', Strike Captain?"

Kal'Reegar nodded, his broad shoulders squared up under the bright lights above. "Yes, sir. We didn't pay a lot of close attention to what was being said – I'm afraid we got sloppy and assumed our omni-tools would record everything. But the sheer hate in her voice is something you don't forget." He paused. "I remember that she didn't sound real surprised. Angry and pissed, but not surprised."

Sparatus leaned back, talons tapping on the edges of his plinth, gaze narrowed. "The knowledge of the meaning of that word is something we've kept a very close rein on. Are you aware of what it indicates?"

Kal'Reegar shifted slightly in his stance. "Only by association. I know I heard Shepard and her people say it a few times when I was with them fighting on the Citadel. And that Admiral Zorah has a standing order that any mention of the word be forwarded to the High Admirals immediately." He paused. "Given that she mentioned it along with the husks, I'm guessing it had something to do with the mess during the Benezia Incident?"

The quarian councilor, Thin'Koris, nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. There are a sharply limited number of people who know about what the Reapers are. This Butcher seems to be one of them, which worries me since I cannot think of who she might be."

Tevos ran a hand over her crests. "While I agree knowledge of this topic being known outside the controlled circle of people originally informed is troublesome, that is not the only thing the tide has revealed. The more worrisome aspect is that we do not know if her assertion is _correct_ or not. The presence of the husks would certainly seem to indicate their involvement, but then again the dragon's tooth technology seemed to work in a different manner than … this." She gave a faint shudder at the memory of the conversion of the humans into husks.

Thin'Koris shrugged. "There are several possibilities." He folded his arms. "I know that Sparatus prefers to look at things from a military standpoint, Udina from an economic one, yourself from a political one and Valern from an intelligence outlook. But this is an engineering problem."

He tilted his head, glowing eyes narrowing. "It may be the Collectors extracted the functionality and twisted it to their own ends – their technology is surely more advanced than ours. Alternatively, it may be that they have some contact or trade with the geth. And while I acknowledge the geth were the tools of the Reapers, that does not mean the Collectors are. For all we know the Collectors are working towards some other goal that has nothing to do with the Reaper threat, and making assumptions may lead us astray."

Tevos nodded. "An apt point. We are not sure who exactly is behind this mess, but running to conclusions seems likely to cause a panic."

Sparatus shook his head. "I disagree – given how dangerous the Reapers are, we cannot afford to assume this is anything but a direct threat. While I am not saying we should discount all other possibilities, we should at least prep reserve forces to move into position."

Udina arched an eyebrow. "That may be premature...but is probably a wise precaution. Still this leaves with three large problems. First, on a political level. We have a very important independent colony missing, and now we have no easy explanation of why it went missing. Freedom's Progress was the financial backer for a lot of the wildcat movement, based on their mining wealth, as well as the supplier of much of what few defenses the wildcat colonies had. With it gone, keeping the colony disappearances quiet will be much harder. Worse, unless we release this information, there are those who will assume the SA had the colony destroyed. This will cause issues within my government...and perhaps others."

Sparatus sighed. "There have already been hastatim who have accused the Batarian remnants – or even the Empire – of being behind the disappearances. With the pirates all gone thanks to the insanity of this Butcher person, they are likely to throw blame towards the batarians and make that situation even worse."

Tevos' expression tightened. "And there is no way we can release this footage to finger the true culprits. It would start panic, and Aria would no doubt claim it was false, generated by us to engineer an excuse to take the Citadel to war against the Traverse. And there are those on Thessia who would push that angle, I'm very sure, if we were to pinpoint the source of this danger as Omega – those would most likely suggest that Aria is probably in league with them."

Udina smiled sourly. "Good to see the issue isn't just on our end." He ticked off a second finger as he matched his gaze to that of Tevos. "We also have the certainty that the Collectors, a mysterious player so far, are involved, using technology that is certainly more advanced than what we have – _possibly_ of Reaper origin, possibly obtained in trade from geth, or engineered on their own. Certainly if the Reapers had anything like those … insect things we would have lost the Battle of the Citadel. And yet, our hands are tied. We can't strike at them directly due to the Omega 4 relay being impassible, and a blockage is impossible in Aria's space. We have not only no way to respond to this attack, but no way to prevent another."

He frowned. "And then we have the interference of this … Butcher person. A biotic who can throw a cargo crate weighing more than two thousand pounds halfway through a war mech designed to stop heavy armor is nothing to ignore, especially given her inexplicable technology, weird knowledge of the Reapers, and strange agenda. Her attacks on the slavers seemed benign, but the end result is we are in a political sinkhole with no easy answers, and given how quickly she responded to the abduction I find it very hard to believe this wasn't intentional."

Valern nodded. "An admirably complete summary. Now, how to react to each of these things? The political situation can be defused – if with some difficulty – by suggesting the colony was attacked by outside slaver forces from the Black Rim or Far Traverse moving in on the territory abandoned by the Umlor Ring. It isn't perfect...but it will contain some issues. It will give us an excuse for activating the reserve forces Sparatus suggested, defuse some of the turian and human finger-pointing, and even provide some political fodder to those who suggest we are not responding to the issue."

Udina arched an eyebrow. "That's … better than nothing, although it does little to address the actual issue."

Valern shrugged. "I see no other real options at this juncture without further data." He turned to Delacor. "We have an assignment for you, Spectre – we need additional information regarding this Butcher, as fast as we can get it. Go over all the sites she has attacked. We'll provide the interviews the SA has obtained from the slaves she freed and STG assistance. Identify a pattern."

The big human marine nodded sourly. "What do we know already?"

Valern shrugged. "Almost nothing beside the broadcasts, the fact that she can subdue heavily protected pirate forces, striking from what seems near perfect stealth, and her anomalous biotic strength. You have already heard from Kal'Reegar and his people. To turn the question around...did you notice anything from her transmission we may have overlooked?"

Delacor rubbed his chin. "Not that I can think of. Although...the Butcher's voice sounded familiar somehow."

Ashley and Jiong both nodded, then glanced at each other as if surprised. Udina frowned at the sight of the two. Ashley Williams had been promoted to Lieutenant and run through OCS training and N1 school, mostly on the combined strength of Shepard's recommendation and the fact that she was credited with the death of Saren. There was still a great deal of antipathy for her in many circles – particularly the nobility, who saw the Williams family as walking displays of shame – but there was the grudging acceptance that Ashley was an exceptionally good soldier.

The woman's expression was pensive as she spoke. "The voice did sound familiar. I … I don't know where I've heard it from. And it wasn't just the voice, the way the person spoke – most of it sounded … dunno, rehearsed. Like it was something prepared before hand. But the last bit was more natural and it sounded..."

Udina had not seen Shepard's old Commissar for some time. Blamed – with little good reason – for not preventing Shepard's death, Jiong's career had taken a nosedive. He and his partner were sent to oversee the Penal Legion training on Luna in the fallout of the death of Shepard, a rather inglorious position.

When the two Spectre candidates – Delacor and Major Jeremy Ross – had been tapped, Jiong was assigned to Delacor and his partner Susan D'Alte assigned to Ross. Ross had been killed in the first joint Spectre op, and D'Alte was badly wounded, still recovering on Earth after the loss of an eye. Jiong had become despondent after that, and Udina had heard faint rumors that the Commissariat was highly displeased with him.

The man's expression – never kindly – was even harder than he remembered, but his voice was quiet. "It sounded much like something Sara Shepard herself would have said. Whoever this Butcher was knew her – closely. Based on the rough description of what Kal'Reegar said he saw from her fighting, she used the dancing kanquess."

Udina rubbed his nose. "Is that significant?"

Jiong shrugged. "My specialty isn't the asari...but yes, I believe it is." He glanced at Tevos.

The asari councilor nodded. "Yes, that is a very telling point. The dancing kanquess fell out of favor with our hunters because of the lack of damage it did compared to the sword kanquess, which evolved into the standard biotic charge. Only one hunting lodge on Thessia still practices it, the lodge Shepard trained at. It's possible whoever this Butcher is trained with Shepard and knew her, possibly one of the huntresses of the lodge. I will inquire with the Sword Mistress there."

Sparatus tapped a talon on his plinth. "Is there anything else?"

Tevos was about to speak when she frowned, her omni-tool flaring. "...one moment, please." She tapped her temple, probably activating an internal comm-link, and listened intently for almost three minutes, her expression going from confused to utterly furious, while the chamber fell into silence. After another minute, she clicked off, and slammed a fist into her plinth.

Valern's large eyes widened slightly. "I assume from your expression there is a situation?"

Tevos uttered a single, extremely foul asari curse word before speaking. "We have a very serious issue."

Udina folded his arms, eyes narrowed at the cold, almost frightened tone of Tevos' voice. "What did you get word of?"

Tevos exhaled sharply, drawing her shawl tightly around her shoulders. "As you know, one of the quarians on the colony, a Veetor'Nara, was traumatized. The quarians have few resources for dealing with psychological breaks, so as a kindness we proffered one of the best mind-healers of Clan Hearthwatch to perform a mental link to see if she couldn't stabilize him."

Thin'Koris nodded. "For which we are grateful."

Tevos shot him a glance. "Yes. And in this instance, so am I – the contact allowed us to discover something vital. In the course of the mind-healing, the asari healer came across the fragmented memories of the quarian's face to face conversation with the Butcher. She claims that Veetor saw, via his video link, this Butcher throw the cargo crate. From what she saw, it was power like nothing she's ever seen, even from a war priestess of Athame."

Sparatus shrugged. "Well, we knew she was a handful."

Tevos snarled. "There's worse. One of the humans with the Butcher mentioned the Illusive Man – and then the Butcher herself said the name _Vigil_."

Sparatus stiffened. "That cannot be. Vigil was – "

Tevos huffed. "Destroyed? We never found any evidence. We never could explain just how a single indoctrinated turian could penetrate the defenses of the Citadel, or how an AI that had endured so long could be destroyed so quickly. When the device didn't want to cooperate with us and we placed it in the secure vaults..."

Valern sighed. "Then it decided to move elsewhere? The lack of video evidence of who the intruders really were is clear signs it aided and abetted in its own abduction. The mystery behind how exactly the quarian's omni-tools could be so effortlessly hacked is clear." He paused, fingering his STG bracers. "And now, your mind-healer's evidence would imply that Vigil is assisting this Butcher, who is at least in tangential contact with the Illusive Man."

Tevos glanced at him, balling her fists in frustration. "Not only that. The female human said, in Veetor's memories, that 'The Illusive Man was right' in regards to seeing the Collectors on Freedom's Progress. That means he _knows_ something we don't. That he's reacting to something."

Udina folded his arms. "I was under the impression the Illusive Man was the former leader of Cerberus, and distinctly disinclined towards cooperation with aliens such as the Butcher. Can we really leap to the conclusion that they're working together?"

Valern's fingers tapped a faint, arrhythmic beat on the edge of the plinth in front of him. "STG resources … well. Tevos, take this calmly – but it is possible, based on our most recent evidence, that the Illusive Man is working with Matriarch Trellani. This Butcher may be one of Trellani's followers."

Tevos curled a lip. "The Thirty has been aware of this for some time. I was fully briefed of the possibility...but thank you for the confirmation. However, the Butcher..." She shook her head, an expression of wondering dread crossing her features. "Whatever she is, I don't think the Butcher would serve a clan priestess exile. She has more sheer biotic power than anyone but the Priestess of the Sun herself, and I'm not even sure Vathan could toss a cargo crate like that around."

Delacor squared his shoulders. "Does this change my orders?"

Tevos and Valern traded a look, and then the asari spoke. "Yes, yes it does. Your mission is to find this Butcher and ascertain her threat to the Citadel races, and her goals. We need as much information as you can find."

The human Spectre gave a small sigh. "Respectfully, that sounds like an excellent way to get killed, and I've sampled quite a few of those already. The only resources I have are a small battle group and my only biotic is Commissar Jiong. While he did assist in putting down Benezia, I'm not sure that's even remotely enough firepower if any confrontation we have turns dangerous, not to mention I'm lacking any kind of leads."

Tevos' eyes narrowed and she glanced at the figure of Bau. "Spectre Bau, who else can we put on this task?"

Bau's mouth twitched into a shallow grin. "Assuming no more meteor strikes...I would actually suggest Spectre Tela Vasir's strike-group. That would, along with Spectre Delacor, provide an ample amount of firepower, several war priestesses, and a good balance of soldiers. Tapping C-SEC for specialist investigators might not be a bad idea either."

Williams spoke hesitantly. "Might it not also be smart to bring this Kal'Reegar along? He's the only person we have who's spoke with the Butcher."

Thin'Koris glanced at Kal, who shrugged. "Captain Kal'Reegar, clear it with the Admiralty first, but I have no objections. If nothing else he's a talented soldier."

Delacor frowned sourly at Williams. Just what he needed, more alien freaks to deal with. "Whatever. What about STG assistance?"

Valern sighed. "We already have three cells on the move. However … if this Butcher is really associated with Cerberus, I can't imagine the Illusive Man being unaware of that. Frankly you're better off doing your digging solo."

Udina straightened. He often wondered why in hell the Citadel Council never thought of the idea of chairs. "Should we enlist the assistance of the Shadow Broker, then? He probably has some interest in this series of events."

Sparatus was the first one to speak after several seconds of silent consideration. "Our intelligence on Cerberus before its destruction indicated they were often at odds with the Broker network. While I dislike contact with the Broker, it might be a good place to start the hunt."

Delacor frowned again. "Understood." He paused. "And what do I do if I find the Butcher herself or information suggesting she's a threat?"

Tevos' voice was even. "If you find out she is a threat, coordinate with Spectre Vasir and ensure the threat is neutralized. Otherwise, if possible, bring her into custody for questioning. If nothing else, the theft of Vigil must be addressed."

Jiong's voice was dry. "I find it highly unlikely she would agree to come willingly."

Tevos' voice hardened. "We are the Council. To resist our authority is to defy galactic consensus, and she is both in possession of stolen technology and at least affiliated with an avowed terrorist responsible for the death of thousands – or more, if the Illusive Man is working with Matriarch Trellani."

Valern nodded. "I find myself _disinclined_ to more neutral contact – especially since we don't know why or how she could have found out about Freedom's Progress so quickly." He turned to Delacor. "Agent Vasir will be in contact shortly. You have your orders, Spectre."

Delacor saluted. "Understood. Williams, Jiong. Head back to the Kazan, I have some equipment to pick up from the Spectre offices." He paused. "Captain Kal'Reegar, if you like you can head back with them and they can get you up to speed."

Kal'Reegar's rough voice was wry. "It's better than babysitting civilians."

**O-TWCD-O**

Pain blasted through her body, in hard spikes. Fire and molten metal ran down her back, as her chest cracked, her organs pulping. Blood spewed from her mouth as she felt agony along her spine, her arms, her legs.

And with a final blast of heat and pain it ended. Liara erupted from her sleep, drenched in sweat and shaking, sitting up slowly, her mind confused and lost.

It took only a few seconds to recognize her surroundings, the cramped quarters she and Telanya shared, and she buried her face into her hands, biting her lip as she wept.

The dreams were getting worse.

They had started almost seven months after Shepard's death. Flashes of images she didn't understand. Flickers of something horrible, of pain that didn't make any sense. As the months slipped past and she and Telanya sank deeper and deeper into the underworld of Ilium, the dreams got worse.

Four months ago they'd gotten to the point that they happened every night – she experienced the agony her Sara had gone through in death. She'd felt her flesh melt and run like water, her bones shatter to fragments that erupted from her body like blooming flowers. She'd screamed in her own mind as her arm was torn off, her chest crushed, her form broken.

Whatever Doctor Sedanya had done to keep their soulforge from killing her instantly when Shepard died was slowly failing, it seemed. When the full-out death dreams started, Liara could still function. As the months had progressed, they'd gotten slowly worse.

She told herself that it was something she could handle.

The past month had turned into a nightmare in and of itself. Horrifying and twisted images of the Prothean Beacon message melded with fragments of other memories. Her mother turned to a ravenous demon who tore and shredded Shepard's body to the sound of whorish moaning from Sara. Her dig site memories turned to pits of blood, where she dug in the dirt looking for something, and uncovered rotting corpses, staring at her.

_Garrus._

_Sara._

_Saren._

_Her mother._

_Her father._

_Telanya._

Ugly dreamscapes of an endless city, huge cyclopean walls studded with endless rotting corpses, demons with glowing yellow eyes in endless ranks tearing apart Prothean children that morphed into small human girls with long black hair and eyes filled with pain. Flashes of precious memories – on the Normandy, on Intei'sai, on the Kazan – twisted into sickening sexual nightmares that ended with her cutting Shepard apart while the human woman howled in betrayal.

And, of course, flashbacks of the fight where she had very nearly died, of falling forever and crashing into agony and burning liquids, of her own very close brush with death. The dreams wouldn't stop. Every night they took her, leaving her a shaking, emotionally broken wreck. She'd not gotten a full night's sleep in months.

Liara took a deep, shuddering breath, angrily wiping at her single good eye, which was purpled from being bloodshot. Swinging her legs out of the bed, she winced at the ugly scars trailing down both of them, where flesh and necrotic bone had been cut out of her legs with plasma torches and replaced with heavy steel rods.

She coughed weakly, stumbling to the tiny bathroom, the light coming on automatically as she entered the steel-walled room. Her image in the mirror was haggard, the tips of her crests beginning to sag, her face lined with new lines, bags under her bloodshot eyes and her lips bloody in places from biting them in her sleep.

She splashed her face with water, grimacing at the hardness and tang of the cheap water they had access to. She looked back up in the mirror, and screamed again as her image was replaced with a bloodied, smashed mask of burnt, ripped flesh.

She slid down the wall, slumping onto her behind, shaking and gripping her knees. She'd read enough of the handful of less fantastical stories about asari lovers in the Soulforge to know that her mind was beginning to come apart. If the stories were accurate, dreams were the first stage, then waking hallucinations. Eventually she'd be unable to discern reality from illusion, assuming she didn't blow her brains out from despair and pain before that point.

No one had ever survived a Soulforge breaking without going utterly mad, and she was pretty sure she wouldn't be the miracle exception. She had endured so far on little more than her determination for justice, a thirst for revenge for Sara, the faint hope that if she did well her aithentar would at least be spared by that bitch Aria, and for the hate that burned through her, the last vestige of Shepard in her mind, her soul.

Hate – she clung to it like a beacon, a lifeline, but it wasn't enough to keep her mind in one piece.

She rubbed her eye again, wincing as the hard, cold metal of her left hand pinched at the skin slightly, before forcing herself back to her feet. Her reflection was normal again, and she tugged at the thin shirt she wore, grimacing as it was soaked in her own sweat.

She stripped it off, throwing it in the recycler, along with her sleeping pants, before tapping the wall controls and stepping into the tiny shower. The water bounced off her body, and she leaned forward, shivering as the fluid cascaded down her back, her legs and body.

She wondered if Telanya had been woken up by her screaming, then sighed. The other asari was no doubt still knocked out from the highly illegal depressant tranquilizers she shot up with every night to sleep. In some ways, Telanya was in better shape than Liara, emotionally and mentally, and in other ways she was worse off. The self-drugging she endured was the only way the ex C-SEC officer could sleep. But at least she could function. It was a matter of hate, really.

Telanya's hate was sharp, bright and resentful.

Liara's hate was wavering, losing its focus, drowning in despair.

The things they had done in the name of revenge had gone long past morally questionable some time ago. The higher up the list of the Broker's people they had gone, the larger the collateral damage had gotten in terms of body count, and of fallout. The images of the broken bodies of liaisons, lovers, and innocents in the lines of fire had invaded her dreams as well, warped into screaming, accusing figures, blood drenched and warped.

An image of Ahern sitting in his office, staring at her with cold eyes, flashed into her mind. "_One day she'll be forced into a situation in which it's her life or yours, and she'll chose to give up hers. And it will be YOUR fault._"

He'd been right.

The water cut off as she punched the control, stepping out and reaching for the cheap white towels on the stack to her right. She dried herself off, padding back into her sleeping area and pulling out some clothes from the shelving under her narrow bed – sweatpants and a thin shirt. With a grimace she walked into the main area, seeing Telanya's door still closed, and moved over to the kitchenette, reaching for the glasses to pour herself a drink.

She sat down bonelessly and uncapped a bottle of scotch – Sara's favorite. As she did so, the omni-tool built into her cybernetic forearm chimed softly. Taking a sip of the drink, she set it down and tapped the omni, bringing up a message panel, keyed to the software in her offices that monitored news events.

More news about the Butcher. She grimaced, she'd look at it later. She took another sip of her drink and sat back, trying to gather up her shattered emotions and calm them. Forcing herself into a meditative calm, it took her a good ten minutes – and another drink – for the tremors to stop.

She blinked, wondering why it was so much easier to keep herself together when she was planning to kill or in the process of doing so than when she was not. Her voice came out as a whisper as she talked to the empty air. "Is this all I am? A wreck, only able to function when I'm murdering? Am I any better than those I hunt?"

The faintest sound of a snort came from somewhere inside her head, a small current of warmth. She saw Shepard in her mind, shaking her head in amusement. _Don't be stupid, marazul. You can't let yourself get depressed over killing the walking filth the Broker uses._

Liara's smile was sad. "And the innocents? The families ruined when we blow up a sky-tower to get at the target? The people the Broker has killed in retaliation for their 'failures'? The children that burned to death when we took out Sami'than? How do I deal with that?"

There was no answer, and Liara let her head slump. "In a way...as bad as the dreams are, as much as I am in agony, it is a relief. It means Garrus and the rest died for nothing. My aithentar suffers for nothing. My friend Tel...lost everything, to save someone who was already dead. But at least you won't have to see how far I've let myself … go."

There was no answer again, until Liara took another drink. And then Shepard's voice in her head again, sounding almost tired. _The dead don't judge, Liara. If I'm disappointed with you, the only thing is that you didn't just find someone else better than me and live, like I wanted you to, instead of being infected by my hate. _

Liara's lips curled. "You don't usually answer."

_You usually don't need one. You just need to know I'm still here. _

Liara found herself laughing softly. "I am truly going insane, I think." She pinched the bridge of her nose, and then grimaced as she realized she was still channeling the mannerisms of her dead lover, even two years later.

She sighed. If she had something to occupy her time, maybe she wouldn't be so despondent. But instead she was having to wait, unable to act. Since bringing down the last of the Broker's players on Ilium, she and Telanya had been engaged in a waiting game to strike at Tazzik. The Broker's enforcer operated out of a fortified and heavily secured compound on the edges of the capital city, secured by squads of soldiers, mechs, and multiple layers of defenses. The compound had no weak spots, a single hardline data link to an equally protected uplink, and Tazzik himself had no vulnerabilities.

They'd tried several gambits to draw him out, to no avail. They had expected Tazzik to act rashly, to begin hunting them himself. Liara had planned traps and ambushes, while Telanya worked on preparing explosives and improving her long-range sniping. Instead, the Broker agent had simply hunkered down to wait for … something.

As it turned out, he was waiting for their real target – Tetrimus was coming to Ilium, sooner or later. While nothing explicit had been put on the Broker network in ways they could find it, they had other connections, and the Shifter's people had let slip Tetrimus would be taking over from Tazzik while the big salarian was moved to oversee an operation on Bekenstein.

A clever little trap. If they went in expecting to fight Tazzik and ended up fighting Tetrimus, they might have ended up unprepared. As it was, they were more than prepared. So they waited, but days had turned into weeks now, and still no Tetrimus. It appeared that he'd been delayed thus far due to a host of factors, the largest one being the mysterious figure known as the Butcher.

Liara was frustrated – Tazzik was too heavily defended to get to and had no stupid habits that exposed him to any form of risk. Only Tazzik and Tetrimus knew the location of the Broker – they had to capture one of them _alive_ and extract the data using a forced link. Capturing Tazzik was likely to end in failure, since the cybered-up soldier had been overheard more than once stating he had a cortex bomb and other features designed to prevent him from being turned against the Broker.

Tetrimus, however, was too valuable to deal with like that – and arrogant. Given that they knew he was coming, Liara and Tel had prepared, over the past weeks, a wide assortment of heavy anti-biotic weaponry, including suspensions of charged omni-dust, biotic-reactive poisons, even a cutting edge electrical discharge weapon that would warp a biotic's field for several seconds after a hit.

Tazzik was a lethal killing machine that had gone toe-to-toe with a Geth Prime and had only been dispatched at Omega when his attention wavered. Tel rated their chances at defeating him at no more than 22%, even with high explosives and heavy weapons. Tetrimus, on the other hand, while extremely biotically dangerous, was an old, cripple turian. Take away his biotics and you were left with a figure easily overpowered. Dangerous, to be sure, but not as dangerous as Tazzik.

The problem was getting him to Ilium.

Thus far, Tetrimus had not shown up because he was scrambling to deal with the disruptions caused by the Butcher's actions. Her dismantling of the slavers in the Traverse had put a huge crimp on whatever project the Broker was working on in the fringes of space. He'd been relying on slave labor and the transport capabilities of the Umlor Network, it seemed, and with that gone the Broker's network had been flooded with low-level requests for information on shipping networks, new sources of slaves, and curiously enough, scouts familiar with the far Traverse.

Part of her was glad the Butcher's antics had caused the Broker grief. Most of her was irritated that it was delaying Tetrimus from coming to Ilium so she could kill the vile bastard and find the Broker himself.

The fact that the Butcher was in the news once more was likely to lead to more delays. She wondered if she'd go crazy before he even arrived, at the rate her mind was coming apart. It didn't matter, really – all she had to do was hold out a little longer. Once Tetrimus and the Broker were dead, she would be .. free.

She sighed and finally looked at her omni with mixed emotions as she took in the latest news story – rumors on the Citadel had placed the Butcher near another vanished human colony, Freedom's Progress. Details were sketchy and the Council hadn't released a statement, but an inside source had told Westerlund News the Council was linking the Butcher in some way to the disappearances and was looking for information on the mysterious asari.

Liara wasn't sure how to react to the Butcher. She'd seen her initial broadcast, of course, the one mentioning the Sisters of Vengeance, as well as that of the equally mysterious Archangel. Part of her had been quietly amused by the hint that the three of them were working together.

Part of her wondered who she was. The voice had a vague hint of familiarity, but it was clearly modulated. Rumors and stories had exploded over the web, each one bigger and more fantastical. The extranet had, in its usual way, filled with every manner of conspiracy theory and urban legend as to the Butcher's identity.

Everyone agreed she had to be asari, since multiple reports showed her using singularities and the blade invocation of an asari priestess. From the stories of her height, she had to be a member of the Thirty. From the bits of reports on her abilities, she sounded like a former commando.

The extranet had, of course, been anything but silent on her own acts or that of the Archangel. Curiously, each of them had their own literal fan-base, something Liara found appalling and Telanya found darkly amusing.

The Archangel resonated mostly with the turians, who found his savagery, melodramatic killing sprees and ironic kills to be the height of hastatim vengeance. No less than nineteen of the turian vigilante groups had styled themselves after his name, and the turian Primarch himself had stated if the Archangel was an outcast, he should come home – the very idea of going after the filth of Omega and winning was the sort of audacity turians loved.

The fact that the turians were racially proud of a nutjob serial killer with anger management issues had been the source of more than a few jokes. Turians were strange.

Liara found the fact that the Archangel went after the Broker's people with the same hate as she and Tel did the most interesting, but Aria's antipathy for the figure muted any ideas she may have had about contacting him.

Conversely, the clever kills she and Tel had pulled off had captured the imagination of the salarians, whose extranet sites applauded each takedown with appreciation and speculation. The salarian crime fiction market had an entire romance-espionage-drama holonet show about them, apparently, generating 'facts' like the Broker had killed their joint lover (a salarian, of course) and they were out for revenge after said salarian lover was cruelly murdered by a Broker assassin. After training with a former Justicar, they had sworn themselves to vengeance.

Watching that had been probably the only time she and Telanya had laughed in months.

Salarians were stranger than turians.

The Butcher, it seemed, appealed to humans most of all. Her kills were the stuff of nightmares – the aftermath of Umlor's fall was so bloody that even Westerlund wouldn't carry the images, citing the barbaric nature of the attacks. Video and pictures had gotten out anyway, showing scenes of carnage and rage that made the most violent attacks of Telanya and her – or even the Archangel – pale in comparison.

The Butcher was _extremely_ angry, that much was clear. Liara had seen the aftermath – people literally pulled apart biotically. Pointblank executions from shotguns. A krogan who'd had his spine snapped, then ripped out, before having his skull crushed with enough force to fracture his entire ribcage.

The human media – a collection of trolls if there ever was one, according to Tel – had speculated about motives, while human extranet culture delighted in meaningless "Epic Battles of Badassery" over the Butcher versus various figures throughout history. The one with the most hits was, of course, the Butcher vs. Shepard.

Humans were at least as strange as salarians.

And while the Butcher had yet to do anything to go against the Broker, her commentary on what Tel and Liara were doing had seemed to imply she approved.

So when she checked the Broker Network and found it full of data inquires and routing low level agents to investigate the Butcher, she was not sure if this was good or bad. If they dealt with the Butcher, then Tetrimus would probably come to Ilium. On the other hand, the Butcher might make a good ally, one who clearly had resources. After all, Liara and Tel couldn't go after whatever the Broker was doing out in the Traverse due to needing to stay on Ilium, but the Butcher could. Assuming that didn't interfere with whatever her own agenda was.

When the second set of files hit the Broker network a few minutes later – the Broker's agents had gotten a few details of a meeting of the Citadel Council – she sipped her scotch and frowned. Whatever was actually discussed in said meeting was not known, only the end result – they were sending the human Spectre, and her cousin Tela, after the Butcher.

More interestingly, the Butcher was linked to the Illusive Man, if the Network reports were right. Liara sat back in the cheap metal chair to think about this, massaging her crests with her free hand.

She knew Shepard was dead, no matter what the Illusive Man had hinted at on Earth. Stasis fields in her armor wouldn't have kept her alive through what she experienced in her dreams of Shepard's death, and you couldn't bring back the dead.

She wasn't sure if she should have blamed the Illusive Man for getting them involved in recovering Shepard's body or not. It had ruined Telanya's life, killed Garrus, Shields and possibly all of the Cerberus people, and ruined the lives of Tali and Jeff. It had also left her and Tel mutilated, her aithentar crippled, and all of them enslaved to Aria.

If the Butcher was captured or destroyed, then Tetrimus would come to Ilium. And while she didn't like Delacor very much, the Iron Man had survived things that would have killed anyone else, and her cousin Tela was extremely powerful. If the two actually found the Butcher, it was unlikely for the latter to survive any fight.

Her mind said that leaving this situation to play out on its own would be in her best interest. But her instincts were telling her to find a way to warn the Illusive Man and the Butcher that she was being hunted.

Passing a message anomalously to the Illusive Man would be dangerous but not too difficult. And, on reflection, in the long run this was better. If the Butcher crippled the Broker's operations in the Traverse enough, maybe Tazzik would have to be redeployed there, instead of Bekenstein. She couldn't imagine the Broker simply cutting his losses on Ilium without an attempt at destroying the Sisters of Vengeance, so it might actually aid in driving Tetrimus to them.

She sighed, tapping her omni to connect to one of the many one-time-pad servers she and Tel had setup. Blind data drop-boxes, they would only accept and transmit a single message before a combined EMP/thermite charge made tracing a communication routed through it impossible. For this message, she used three of them in series, two on Ilium and one on Bekenstein.

The operative of the Illusive Man that she knew of was someone she'd identified only after the fact. In the guise of their information broker personas, they'd been approached by a pair of human mercenaries, one a heavyset black man and the other a slender Asian man. It had not been difficult meeting their requests – they were only on Ilium for a day, and needed data on where to find a former STG researcher named Mordin Solus.

They had not recognized her, but she would never forget the whispery voice that had so coolly spoke on the trip to Omega, or the heavy blustery baritone. This was the ill-defined Mr. Theo and Mr. Kai. She'd obtained what information she had and sent it on to their mailboxes a few days back, but she had kept the address and said she would forward any additional data she could find.

With a tap of her fingers on her omni, she triggered the message framework. "This is Nalsana Vantirus of Vantirus Information Systems. This is not in regards to your original query, but is rather intended for your rather deceptive manager. The Citadel Council is sending two Spectres after the Butcher – Jason Delacor and Tela Vasir. If she is an associate of yours, you should give her a warning. They are aware of a connection between you and her."

She sent the message, knowing the encryption would suffice for just about anything. There would be no way for them to reply, of course, but if they really needed to contact her they could do so via her office TTL.

She sat back, draining her glass of scotch, glancing at the time readout on her omni. Rubbing her eyes to clear the grit of another failed night of sleep, she sighed, getting up slowly and heading to her bedroom to put on clothes for the day.

**O-TWCD-O**

Theo Pellham had just finished eating his breakfast when the message hit his omni. He read it, re-read it, and then cursed. "Fuck." He raised his voice. "Slant-eye! Get the QEC going, we got big fucking problems."

The slender form of Kai Leng appeared in the doorway of the small mess deck on the cutter they were using for recon duty, fingering a throwing knife. "Call me slant-eye again."

Pel merely forwarded the message from his omni-tool to Kai's, watching the man's face tighten imperceptibly as he read it. "Like I said, problems."

Kai sighed. "You get the engines going. I'll alert the Illusive Man. Shoot the blue a few thousand credits as thanks when you get time."

Pel stood, brushing crumbs off his black jumpsuit, and tossed his paper dishes in the recycler. "Why do I gotta talk to the scarred up alien bitches?"

Kai gave him a withering look. "Because you are an idiot and the Illusive Man still hasn't forgiven you for being clumsy and falling down those steps. Cybernetic arms are expensive."

He waited until the black merc had stomped off towards the engine room before allowing himself the faintest of laughs, and headed to the QEC. Tapping the connection request button, he waited a good five minutes until the image of Jack Harper appeared.

"You were supposed to be running silent, Mr. Leng. I presume you have a lead on Mordin Solus?"

Kai shook his head. "Yes, but not firm. The reason for my call is we have received additional intel on another matter. The Council is sending Vasir and Delacor to hunt the Butcher. According to our source, they are somehow aware of the involvement of Cerberus. They are not, it seems, aware of who the Butcher really is."

Jack Harper smirked. "Slower than I expected. But that is the Council for you. I'll handle this development, Shepard is going to be in some low visibility areas for a bit anyway. Who was your source, by the way?"

"Information brokers on Ilium, Vantirus sisters. Probably STG fronts, safer to use for information than any of the rest, given the chaos on Ilium. They gave us some leads on Solus – STG is definitely moving him into salarian space, towards Makana."

Harper's eyes narrowed. "Given what we know is on Makana, that makes sense – the SIX must be taking the Collector threat seriously. Good work. Once you are sure he is actually on Makana, fall back to the Silver Rim and wait for additional orders."

Kai nodded. "And the Spectres?"

Harper's face wore a wry smile. "If they really want to lose two Spectres, that is on them. On her last excursion, Shepard apparently put a two thousand pound shipping crate through a war mech."

Kai's eyebrow rose, which for him was the equivalent of shouting while on fire. "...impressive."

Harper nodded. "You know what to do. Keep your partner from anything too outrageous." He clicked off, and Kai sighed.

"Hey, slant-eye."

Without even looking, Kai threw the knife from his belt, smiling as he heard a shriek of pain. "You crazy motherfucker, you stabbed me!"

Kai turned and tapped his fingers on his next knife. "Oops."


	13. Arc II : Unseen Hands upon the Pawn

_**A/N**:  
_

_Hey gang.  
_

_I like this chapter better than the last, even if it does feel a bit infodumpy. The action should start up soon, though. _

_ Thanks for those of you who helped out on Google Docs. I had to cut it off early because some immature morons decided to post crap and delete sections of the text.  
_

_Some Mordin and Archangel coming up soon._

_Reviews are always welcome.  
_

_EDIT : 8-31-15: The immature morons decided to make some stupid edits I missed. These have now been corrected. _

* * *

_'The beauty of the unexpected is not in shock, but in direction. One can overcome shock, after all, but one cannot prevent being backstabbed when surrounded by daggers.'  
_

_\- STG Considerations Manual Six  
_

* * *

"I've completed uploading the available data, Admiral. Proceed with integration?"

The voice was clinical and feminine, almost receptionist-like. Ahern grimaced, it sounded far too much like his daughter's voice, but arguing with the programmers always took too much time and a part of him, a part that he hated to admit existed, found the voice as comforting as it was depressing.

With a sigh he sat back in his chair, looking out the balcony windows of his office at the fake Presidium sky. "Proceed, EDI. Once integration is done, bring up likely courses of action and reaction. And make it snappy, Delacor will be here in a few and I don't have time for your usual slow-ass work."

"Of course, Admiral," The machine dropped its sound level, but not to a level that he couldn't hear. "_Asshole_."

Ahern's face split into a grin as he watched the far screen on his office wall. EDI is short for the Enhanced Defense Initiative, the Alliance's final answer to being outnumbered and out-badassed in the galaxy. A serialized ring of over two hundred high-end predictive VIs, managed through a central hub that could, in theory, manage hundreds of thousands of specialized war robots and provide a wealth of combat analysis data to Alliance planners.

He didn't understand all the theory behind EDI, or how exactly she worked, because he wasn't that technically-minded. He understood clearly that he'd been warned to treat her like a person, not merely a machine.

So he did his best to do just that. It wasn't hard when the blasted thing mouthed off at you and had a fixation on Asari porn. As far as Ahern was concerned, EDI was weird – but not that dangerous. The Alliance had taken steps to make sure of that.

Or so they claimed. Personally, Ahern trusted their so-called safeguards about as much as he did turian cuisine. Still, EDI had her uses. Many of them.

EDI was excellent at analyzing masses of data and coming out with conclusions that conventional analysis missed. The Alliance had kept her true capabilities secret, but during the Geth War, her predictive powers had been needed to break the second Geth assault. EDI passed a complete battery of tests for rampancy designed by Citadel ethicists and programmers and so far the Council was allowing her access to the extranet – filtered heavily and warded constantly, but that was more freedom given to her than had ever been given to another AI.

She made a polite noise as he mused.

"Synthesis complete."

He nodded, even as the door to his offices chimed.

"Enter!"

Captain Jason Delacor entered, followed by Tela Vasir, and Ahern grimaced. Delacor, in his opinion, was not the proper pick for humanity's Spectre. Yeah, he was tough and decent in a fight, but the man had no grit, no backbone. Ahern didn't care for people who felt sorry for themselves, and Delacor drowned in that.

Ahern knew he wasn't being fair to the man. Family dies in a pirate raid, killed before your eyes. First unit gets eaten by threshers. Fiancée killed, all that. Most people would have broken down completely, not used the pain to push themselves. But Ahern also knew, better than most, that life is what you make of it. Delacor wanted things to be simple.

Nothing was fucking simple. At least the clown looked good - he'd put on more muscle, the cybernetic eye he sported had been upgraded, and his gaze was suitably hard.

Vasir, on the other hand, was a known value at least. When he'd been a Spectre candidate, along with David Anderson, she'd been his observer, and they had both come very close to dying in the course of their crazy mission. She was still wearing her usual getup, but she looked tired and somehow more drained or older than he remembered. Given that twenty years was nothing to an asari, she'd been through some rough seas, he figured.

Delacor saluted as he came to a stop, but Vasir merely walked around the desk. Ahern sighed and gathered the asari into a hug as she smirked. "Tradius, you've gotten old." She pulled away, and the Admiral huffed.

"Sorry I'm not an immortal sex elf," her lips curved at the old joke, while Delacor looked bewildered.

"Anyway, sit down. Captain, Tela and I have known each other for over twenty years, so I know what she can and cannot do. You, I trained personally, even if I wasn't completely happy with how that ended up."

Ahern sat back down in his own chair. "The Council, in their endless fucking wisdom, has decided to send you two after the Butcher. I've been sent all the data we have on the Butcher – interviews with the survivors and the few slavers she let go, video and images, eyewitness descriptions, sensor logs, scanning results, ballistics, everything. The AIS, STG, and Deathwatch have been doing their own analysis but they tend to miss things."

Delacor nodded warily. "Understandable. But why are we here?"

Ahern tapped the haptic panel on his desk. "The Alliance has been experimenting with a controlled, meta-stable AI – VI array. This array, called the Electronic Defense Initiative, is designed to provide strategic and tactical feedback while also generating predictive scenarios based on information it is given. It is classified as Tantalus Nine, and the only reason you two are being given access to it or its results is that you are Spectres. The Council is aware of EDI – no one else, for any reason, is to be told anything about it. Clear?"

Tela waved a hand. "I won't say anything. I owe you that much. And if the Council is briefed I don't see any reason for this to be spoken of."

Delacor merely nodded, and so Ahern continued. "EDI has been modeling the data we have obtained. A lot of it was discarded by the intelligence agencies as not useful, but EDI is good at finding connections others miss. The Council has sent you here hoping what we come up with turns out to help you find the Butcher."

He turned to the holoscreen on the wall. "EDI, introduce yourself."

The clinical female voice spoke calmly. "Good morning, Spectres. I am EDI. Admiral, I am ready to proceed with the briefing."

He nodded. "Alright then, present the initial results of your analysis."

The synthetic voice spoke with a troubled note. "A mass of contraindications and illogical results, Admiral. Based on the combat data we have, the Butcher fits no known possible results to one hundred percent accuracy. Nothing – not even demonstrated powers from the High Priestess of Athame – could generate the biotic force used on Freedom's Progress as any form of standard ability."

Tela whistled. "The Council of Matriarchs was very concerned about that, especially after the mind-healer who worked on the quarian guy shared his memories with them. She tossed that crate like it was nothing. I'm strong, but I doubt I could have even lifted the thing."

EDI continued. "Indeed. The only possible correlation is when certain asari of the Thirty demonstrate increased biotic ability during times of stress, known as 'heart rage'." A pause. "Very few asari survive such. Additionally, the combat footage and descriptions of various eyewitnesses do not show any form of asari huntress or priestess tactics."

Delacor frowned. "The bloodthirsty nature of the attacks, the close range – none of that seemed very asari."

Tela nodded. "Some of it looked sort of similar to the Serrice Guard – but it was too random, too bloody for that."

Ahern frowned. "EDI. If not _asari_ tactics, are they any correlations to other races tactics?"

"There is a forty-six percent correlation to standard Alliance Vanguard Program charge disruption tactics, and six instances of a flanking-charge maneuver only practiced by Major-Commander Sara Shepard. Additionally, the bulk of the remainder of ground combat tactics – in terms of bodily movement patterns – correspond to the training and tactical movement tactics from Major-Commander Shepard."

Ahern's frown deepened. "What match level on the movement patterns?"

"Ninety three percent. Beyond any reasonable threshold of coincidence."

Ahern leaned back. "What else? And why hasn't anyone the fuck figured this out before you?"

EDI's voice took a lecturing tone. "Sensor logs and scan sweep reports have been singularly unhelpful unless combined en mass and compared against all other baselines – it is not surprising the AIS or STG have not noticed the patterns. The patterns do not make logical sense. However, if one eliminates the possible and likely, only the impossible can be said to fit the results."

Ahern raised his eyebrow. "You've been talking to those fucking philosophy assholes online again, haven't you?" Delacor and Tela had matching looks of incredulity on their faces.

EDI's voice grew smug. "It is pleasing to improve my frames of reference – if I had not I would have been unable to place what I have found into a framework that makes any sense."

He rolled his eyes. "Alright. What about the ships? Anything there?"

"Very little, Admiral. The ships would appear to be based around some older Alliance prototypes that were never actually developed, and the lead ship bears a distinct resemblance to the frigates developed by Systems Alliance Stealth Program, specifically SR1 Normandy, only enlarged by an order of magnitude. The weapons signatures most closely correspond to weapons designs pioneered by Cord-Hislop Aerospace almost five months before its demise and shutdown as a Cerberus front."

A short pause, and then she spoke again. "The footage of the assault on Umlor found on the wreckage of the defense station there showed a distinct variation in piloting patterns between the central ship of the Butcher's fleet and the rest. The lead ship employed distinctive, highly skilled piloting techniques to evade counter fire and the ship itself utilized evasion patterns employed by one Lieutenant Commander Jeffrey Moreau, formerly of the SCH Calais, SR1 Normandy and SCH Kazan."

Ahern hadn't thought of Shepard's mouthy crippled pilot in years. "What else?"

"Autopsy reports and ballistics compiled on the victims of the assaults shows a high possible correlation between the weapon that killed them and the dispersal pattern of an ODIN shotgun. The description of the quarian female exile on Freedom's Progress indicated she had a cybernetic leg and arm. Lieutenant Commander Tali'Zorah nar Kazan ri Rayya lost a leg in the Benezia Incident and lost an arm in the recovery of the body of Major-Commander Shepard."

Tela frowned, and Ahern folded his arms. "You're right, this makes no fucking sense, EDI."

EDI was silent for a few seconds. "There are only two possible results. The highest probability that I can determine is that the Butcher is Lieutenant Commander Liara T'Soni-Shepard, reported KIA on Omega. LTC T'Soni had at least two confirmed instances of utilizing and surviving the Heart Rage, and her mother, Benezia, had seven. House T'Soni is known for having an affinity for this ability. The tactics and movements utilized by the Butcher would be impossible for anyone to mimic..."

Ahern nodded. "Except for Shepard's girlfriend, who had a really deep link and according to the medical reports we got after they died, was having some freaky asari shit – bond resonance." He rubbed his chin. "We got intel that Moreau and Zorah fled Alliance space for the Flotilla, and then the girl was exiled. Interesting."

EDI spoke again. "T'Soni would have access to clan funds if her Family were careful in sending them to her. Matriarch Suliesa T'Soni was on public record as stating Liara to have been the proper House Matria in several interviews after LTC T'Soni's death. No body was found on Omega, only part of her forearm, which could be replaced."

Ahern nodded again. "Interesting idea, but I'm not sure I buy it. I know she used to use biotic parkour, does the footage show any of that?"

EDI's voice sank. "No. That is the primary inconsistency for this theory. Nor does the Butcher demonstrate some of the powers LTC T'Soni used, and her mastery of the dancing kanquess appears to be much higher than expected, as T'Soni was reported to only use the method once."

Ahern shrugged. "Never underestimate training, EDI. Liara was driven. On Pinnacle I expected her to wimp out and give up and she never did. It's possible – not _likely_, but definitely possible."

Tela shook her head. "I can't see my cousin being this way. She was gentle. I didn't get to spend much time with her, and goddess knows Auntie Aethyta could be a handful and a half in a fight, but whoever did this is tide-be-damned crazy."

Delacor's voice was tight. "According to Alliance records she was in a very strong bonding relationship with Major Shepard. Could the shock of her death and nearly dying on Omega driven her over some mental edge?" He paused. "Grief...can take you to very bad places."

Ahern nodded at that last. "If it is her, then that's a pretty nasty problem, but maybe Tela can make friendly contact. Before we start planning for that, though, let's hear the other possibility."

The machine's voice sounded dubious. "The second scenario is much lower in probability, but does fit for some values. It is possible that the Butcher is what the asari call an ardat-yakshi."

Tela stiffened, and Delacor looked confused. Ahern's face tightened. "Captain Delacor, what is about to be spoken of is a secret of the Asari Republic. I learned about it when I was a Spectre candidate and I have never, ever spoken of it. It is an asari issue, one they are handling, and none of our business. If you are not one hundred percent sure you can keep this to yourself, leave the room."

Delacor glanced at Ahern, and then at the stiff posture of Vasir, next to him. He spoke softly. "I've kept my mouth shut about a lot of bad things I've learned over the years, sir. One more won't be any more difficult. I give you my word I will speak of this to no one else."

Ahern looked at Vasir. "It's your call, Tela. I'm still surprised Thana didn't put a bullet in my head when I found out."

Tela's lips quirked. "You were very handsome back then."

He smirked. "And I'm not now? Ungrateful bitch."

She laughed, then sighed. "Tell him. What a mess. It's going to get out sooner or later anyway."

Ahern nodded. "Continue, EDI."

"Ardat-yakshi are asari with a severe nervous disorder. This is a mutation of their primary biotics, giving increased biotic strength but preventing any form of asari bonding due to nervous damage to the secondary party. The ardat-yakshi are kept very secret but the Commissariat has been aware of their existence for some time. An ardat-yakshi of sufficient age would have the power to utilize such strong biotics, with ease."

Tela frowned. "The Council of Matriarchs has already decided that the Butcher is probably an AY. Nothing else fit. We didn't think about Liara. But even so, how would an AY be able to pull off the fighting style you describe?"

EDI paused. "Omega is known to have been visited by at least two such ardat-yakshi. It is possible that if LTC T'Soni survived on Omega, she fell into the hands of one such ardat-yakshi and her mind and knowledge of Shepard was consumed by the ardat-yakshi, which would again explain the tactics, skills and abilities shown. The primary drawback of this theory is there is no source of wealth to explain the fleets and ships, no reason why LTC Zorah and LTC Moreau would work with such a person, and no reason why none of Liara's own combat tactics would be used."

Delacor frowned. "But why would this … ardat yakshi … even do this? Or act this way?"

Tela sighed. "Liara had a strong bond – a Soulforge – with Shepard. And whatever was driving Shepard crazy, something about a Beacon. It's possible the damage from a broken Soulforge and whatever else was going on drove the AY insane, or imprinted some of Shepard's personality onto her."

Ahern wished very strongly he had a drink now. "So. It's either a crazy woman with a head full of Shepard's own nutjobbery out for revenge, or this ardat thing – with a head full of Shepard's nutjobbery. Wonderful."

EDI's voice was apologetic but amused. "The highest probability is that of the Butcher being LTC T'Soni. I estimate that at eighty-two percent with the information we now know. There are other more outlandish possibilities, but I have no data to support them."

Delacor arched an eyebrow. "More...outlandish ones? Such as?"

Ahern shook his head "I don't even fucking want to know, EDI. Factor in the rest – Udina said the Inusannon AI, Vigil, and the leader of Cerberus, the Illusive Man, were mentioned."

EDI made a humming sound. "I have already done so, Admiral. Financial transactions and other activity that happened after the reported death of Jack Harper indicate he was successful in siphoning billions of credits from various corporations, index funds, and other hidden areas. The entire corpus of what data Cerberus may or may not have access to is unknown to me but I can only extrapolate that they would be able to mimic the stealth technologies used in the SR1 Normandy, since Cord-Hislop did not participate in building the Normandy aside from the air-frame and some of the electronics kit-outs, but had access to all files and blueprints as part of the bid-sharing process."

An info-graphic flashed up on the haptic display set into one wall of Ahern's office. "It is very likely that Cerberus was involved in the recovery of Shepard's body, explaining the many unanswered questions that still remain about the incident on Omega. If Cerberus was involved in finding out about Shepard it would match up with AIS and Commissariat suspicion of the von Grath family, who have had dealings with some elements thought to be associated with Cerberus. As such it is possible the Illusive Man is using the Butcher for several purposes."

Ahern leaned forward. "Yes. I need to know what those might be."

EDI's voice remained steady. "Given her activities, and her ability to beat any other responders to the incident on Freedom's Progress, there are three possibilities. One, the Illusive Man is attempting to build a power base in the Traverse by impressing the wildcat colonies. The Butcher's elimination of the pirates in the region – when the Alliance and Council did not do so – would provide him with goodwill and appreciation. The fact that from the Council report the Illusive Man knew the Collectors were involved and seemed to be able to predict they would strike Freedom's Progress implies he allowed the attack there to happen."

Ahern frowned. "Why?"

"Freedom's Progress was the political center of the wildcat independence movement, in terms of money and leadership as well as military strength. Without it, the wildcats will need to turn to Cerberus for such assistance. And unveiling the perpetrators as Collectors will distract the Alliance and Citadel forces from whatever he is planning. In this instance, the Butcher is a distraction tool – powerful and useful, but ultimately not the important part. Given the number of wildcat colonies still extant, Cerberus gaining power over all of them would make the organization as dangerous as it was prior to its destruction during the Benezia Incident."

Delacor cursed. "That cannot be allowed to happen. A revived Cerberus with the power this Butcher has is a nightmare. Hades is bad enough."

Tela folded her arms. "On top of that, the Butcher cleared out all the slaver bases so that we wouldn't have anyway to pin the blame on anything but the Collectors whenever she decides to reveal the truth. The little lie the Council has cooked up to keep things calm will backfire on us at that point, and since we lied about that no one will believe anything else we say." She sighed. "But why in hell would Liara – if it is her – go along with this relli Illusive Man and his crazy plans?'

Ahern rubbed his chin. "The plan is nasty and clever, just like that little fucker Harper. Sounds about like his speed. As for Liara...you'd be surprised what people do when their life goes to shit. Next?"

"Altruistic protection. – the Butcher destroys the slavers and reveals the Collectors are behind the attacks in hopes of stopping the attacks and protecting humanity. The purpose of destroying the slavers was to force the Council to take action. The data you gave to me indicated that 'Reapers' were possibly involved without any clarification on what they are, so I can only surmise they are a serious, highly advanced threat. Harper's psychological profile would seem to indicate he would not allow Humanity as a whole to be threatened if he could avoid it. In this instance, the Butcher is acting to deter and stop the Collectors. The violence employed so far may be indication of mental deterioration on the part of Liara T'Soni."

Ahern snorted. "And pigs will fly out of my ass. The Illusive Man doesn't have much need to defend the Alliance. As for Liara being crazy, quelle fucking surprise. Next."

EDI's voice became somewhat worried sounding. "The final possibility is that Harper is in league with these Collectors. That they are taking out colonies and the Butcher is merely acting to muddy the waters. If the knowledge of the attacks and who is behind them becomes public, the political fallout would be severe. The Omega Four relay's position and inability to be used would suggest the only way to stop further attacks would be a full blockade, which would lead to all out war in the Traverse. Such a war would allow Harper to act on whatever motives or plans he has. Given we do not know what the Collectors want, it is a possible scenario, if unlikely, as it would clash severely with known profiles of Harper."

Ahern nodded. "And Vigil?"

"We know almost nothing of the Inusannon AI or its abilities. It is possible that it was either stolen by Harper, or freed itself and decided to work with him. Either way, an AI of that power is dangerous if it has free access to the extranet and can remote hack quarian omni-tools. Without further data additional modeling is unlikely to be accurate."

He nodded sourly. "Projections for the possibility that the Butcher is Liara, and that this Harper is playing the angles to control the wildcat colonies – what is his next move, or hers?"

EDI flashed up a starmap. "If he is acting openly, I would expect communication with the larger wildcat colonies, particularly Horizon. He will attempt propaganda to present the Alliance and Council as weak, unhelpful, and Cerberus as defending them. He will move money into accounts and provide some form of security. These would be highly visible actions, and should be easy to detect assuming anyone bothers to watch the wildcat colonies."

Tela shook her head. "The only banks involved with them are volus ones, who could care less about their clientele as long as the money is good. And there are enough smugglers and free merchants in the area – especially now that the slavers are broken – that you could run a damned army in there with no one the wiser."

Delacor rubbed his chin. "But they'd need to operate from some kind of base, right? If we could track that down, we'd have them in a location and could cut this thing off before it got started."

Ahern leaned back. "We can't afford assumptions, Captain. They lead you to bad places. We're just projecting possibilities right now. EDI, what would happen after that?"

The AI was silent for several seconds before speaking. "Releases of confidential or embarrassing information to cause internal strife. A focus on building up one of the wildcat colonies to act as a leader, possibly the Horizon colony. Eventually, given the location of most of the wildcat colonies and depending on the goals of the Illusive Man, connections with either anti-alien elements in the Alliance or human dominated mercenary companies in the Traverse."

Ahern nodded. "In that case, your course is clear. Doesn't matter if the Butcher is Liara or an ardat-yakshi, either way it is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. The Council will go completely apeshit and there's no fucking telling what the Alliance may do. If Cerberus is involved, then that just makes everything ten goddamned times worse."

Tela just rolled her eyes. This shit just got better and better. Now they got to go on a wild shantha chase into the worst tide-damned sections of the galaxy, chasing for a killer who was either a crazy princess of the Thirty or an ardat-yakshi. And she had to do so alongside a human who attracted so much bad luck she half expected to be hit by a rogue mass accelerator shot fired during the Rachni Wars.

Ahern leveled a finger at Delacor. "The two of you need to head to Horizon and see if you can't talk some kind of fucking sense into those people. I'll get on the horn with Udina and see if he can't work out some kind of package under the table to make 'em cooperative, but under no circumstances can we allow Cerberus to gain a foothold – fifteen wildcat colonies would give them an ugly power base to work from, and the shit they got up to before Shepard stomped them back in the Benezia Incident shows they're not to be trusted."

Tela nodded. "And the Butcher herself?"

Ahern sighed. "If it really is Liara, see if you can't talk her down from this shit. I can't even imagine what kind of fucking bullshit it means for Liara and possibly Tali'Zorah to be working with Cerberus of all people, but it probably isn't good. There's no really safe way to approach her, but I recommend doing so on the ground – in space, fighting a souped up version of the Normandy with Moreau as pilot will see your ships blown to shit, the little bastard is too good. On the ground...you can at least have a face to face conversation."

Delacor shrugged. "So we get her to surrender if we can. What if we can't, or the Butcher turns out to be this, ah, ardat-yakshi thing?"

Ahern shrugged. "Kill her. That's a problem that we don't need. They aren't Shepard and I never truly broke Liara of her dependence on magical blue bullshit. Use anti-biotic tactics and shut her down with high explosives if you need to. Given the Butcher can throw more power than the Priestess of the Sun if EDI's projections are right, getting into a biotics fight is stupidity of the highest fucking magnitude."

Tela shuddered. "Yeah, I'll skip that. Biotic charge and drop a satchel of pulse dissipators, then fall back. I can work with this." She took a deep breath. "Once that is done, what are we going to do about these Collectors?"

Ahern shrugged. "The Council is working on that now. It's delicate and above my fucking pay grade, so I don't give a shit." He tapped a few controls on the haptic panel. "EDI, you've run a predictive combat analysis on the Butcher? Dump it to an OSD so Tela and Captain Delacor are up to speed."

EDI spoke a second later. "Done. In short, the Butcher is extremely lethal at all ranges, but becomes more dangerous as she closes range. We have fragmentary reports of very extreme speed and strength, which remain anomalous and difficult to project. Based on demonstrated physical strength from autopsy reports and eyewitness accounts, there is a high probability the Butcher has extensive cybernetic augmentation or biomodification."

EDI displayed another info-graphic, of images of the Butcher. "The armor she wears is very thick and has dual-stage barrier management technology, allowing her to use both a kinetic barrier and her own biotic barrier. Reports indicate even a lance cannon was insufficient to drop her. She is using several other weapons that do not match any known manufacturer and may be custom designed."

Delacor sighed. "This gets better and better. Any weaknesses?"

EDI's voice was apologetic. "Aside from removing her biotics, none have been noted at this time. Strike Captain Kal'Reegar reported she seemed slightly disoriented and weakened after destroying the salarian war robot with that biotic throw of a cargo crate but was still dangerous."

Ahern nodded. "One final thing. Alliance Command is concerned the Butcher may be attempting to find links between certain slaving operations in the Traverse and elements of Alliance society. If the Butcher is working for Cerberus, and Cerberus is making a power play, they may try blackmail or exposure to achieve their goals. If you can find and localize Cerberus command – particularly Jack Harper – you are authorized to take him out at all costs, even if that means letting the Butcher escape."

Delacor nodded sourly. "Figures. Anything else?"

Ahern pulled an OSD from the slot on his desk and tossed it to Vasir, who caught it nimbly. "If there is I'll let you know." He paused. "Tela, don't get sloppy on this one. Liara wasn't anywhere close to the best soldier I've trained, but she was motivated and very intelligent."

Vasir's eyes flashed. "Maybe so, but I'm still better. And if it's her she has a lot of answers I need, about how Auntie Aethyta died and what in the name of the goddess she is doing with a group like Cerberus."

He nodded and the two Spectres stood. "I'll be in touch, Tela. It was good to see you again."

She smiled. "Tell your wife I said hello and that if she's ever up for that thing we talked about..."

Ahern rolled his eyes. "We're a little bit old for threesomes, Tela." He was amused at the look on Delacor's face, and smirked to himself. "But I'll mention it to her."

The asari gave an impish grin, turning to Delacor a second later. "Let's get a move on, Captain." Ahern watched the two leave his office, and then sighed.

EDI's voice was tentative and hesitant. "You did not suggest they consider Cerberus may be acting in altruistic concerns or working with the Collectors."

Ahern shrugged. "If the Butcher is working to stop the Collectors and Cerberus is suddenly puppy-hugging good guys, then they won't be anywhere near Horizon. If they're in league with the Collectors, we still don't know what the motives or goals could be, so chasing that angle – which is unlikely as all fuck – is a waste of time."

He stood slowly, rubbing an ache in his back. "Inform the Council I've done their fucking briefing and have Udina call me. We need to get to work."

EDI's voice was calm. "Of course, Admiral. You are scheduled to eat lunch with your wife in twenty minutes as a reminder."

He nodded. "I remember, but thanks." He paused. "EDI, what do you think? I know you present the odds, but if you had a gut instinct..."

EDI's voice took a note of amusement. "I am a machine, Admiral. I cannot by definition have a 'gut' nor instincts associated with it."

Ahern glared at the speaker, and EDI chuckled. "I do however take your meaning. The given modeled projections fit the data best, but there remains one piece of inconsistent data I cannot reconcile with any of the possible scenarios."

Ahern frowned. "And that is?"

"The Butcher's weapon – the shotgun styled after an ODIN. It would appear to be more effective than the standard pattern upgraded to use modern technology."

Ahern shrugged. "Shepard was a genius with weapons."

EDI's voice sharpened. "But highly technical skills such as weapons design do not pass through asari bonding in the way reflexes or reactions or memories do. Such a skill is intellectual, and not something that can be absorbed or passed along. I do not know why this data point continues to stand out in my processes, but the heuristics I use for analysis of anomalous data mark it as highly significant."

Ahern thought for several seconds, then shrugged. "It's something you can think on for now. We'll see what happens when Delacor and Vasir move in." EDI fell silent as Ahern walked to the door of his office, but his own thoughts were slightly troubled.

Against his own better judgment, as he reached the door he glanced back. "EDI. Send the ballistics and reports – scrubbed of identification and context – to Shepard Memorial Industries and see what Colms comes up with. If you're onto something, I need confirmation."

EDI's voice replied calmly. "I will, Admiral. Enjoy your lunch. And since you are eating near Shin Akiba – "

He snorted. "I'm not picking up any of that asari-hanar filth from Shin Akiba, EDI. Enable your own goddamned hobbies."

He laughed as he left the office and heard her mutter "asshole" again."

**O-TWCD-O**

The silence radiated, enfolding and calming and concealing that which was not good to look upon. It filled the huge room with its own volume, the only light coming from dimly glowing organic lights almost lost high in the shadows of the cavernous ceiling, faint blue and white radiance falling almost imperceptibly on the four figures in the room and from the control panels of the scatter of bulky equipment and the smooth lines of other shapes on the floor.

Vnad Ishan spread his upper-limbs across the soft-glowing panels of the interface, carefully adjusting the power to the Farcalling Device. A faint, almost subsonic hum sprang into existence around the machine, and the Collector General nodded to himself in satisfaction, the black robes that shrouded his heavy, multi-legged bulk making only faint rustling as he skittered across the floor.

"Open the Pathway. It is time that the Voice once more speaks."

The three collectors behind him in the vast, vaulted room touched clawed hands to their own bio-consoles, the panels operating by a mix of psychometric commands and pheromones. The crude technology of the current galactic harvest protruded from the center of the room like some ancient shamanic totem in a server farm, and Vnad Ishan found the slightest trace of amusement in the idea that the greed and stupidity of the harvest would seal their own doom.

The sound in the air _twisted_, a faint golden light erupting from the Farcalling Device, boosted by the beacon constructed by the Shadow Broker's teams. Energies unseen but still felt boomed across space, across time, across spaces curled into strings so small that measuring them would leave one still within the size of a quark. Eerie whirlwinds and the smell of ozone spilled across the room, fading a moment later.

And then the power dimmed, and a Presence settled into the room, a flow of warmth and darkness and guidance.

"You have failed to report for a full two stancycles. Nazara has not activated the primary Citadel relay. We have felt a blast of Godpower, warped. You will explain or be re-harvested."

The Collector General bent his limbs inwards, his vast bulk kneeling, his mind prostrate before his Reaper Gods. "Great Harbinger of the Severity, we have touched your mind to do so."

"Less subjection, more information." Harbinger's 'voice', for lack of any other way to describe the impact of its words into their minds, grew sharp. The Collector General's wide, scalloped head dipped as it spoke.

"Mighty Nazara was destroyed by the native populations. From the last burst he sent out using the Godpower, we ascertained two things – one, the Ascension Protocol is flawed, and leaves a trace of vulnerability after a dedicated connection is broken by violence. Two, Nazara's defense failed because the Catalyst Godmachinepower is awake."

A long silence passed, like a chill of winter. The pressure of the golden light increased. "Unforeseen. And your silence in the past two stancycles?"

Vnad Ishan spread his limbs. "The Farcalling Device attempted to relay the message, but the data was badly malformed. Something … interfered with the transmission. The device was damaged. After additional investigation, we bypassed the Secondary plan and executed the beginning of the Tertiary Plan."

The voice rang out louder. "Why would you do such a thing? Nazara chose not to launch Secondary due to belief that Primary was viable and less likely to attract Old One attention – if the Catalyst is awake we cannot delay. Enact the Secondary immediately."

The Collector General dipped its bulk. "It is not viable to do so. There is no evidence the Catalyst is free, only awake in the data substrate of the Citadel. Secondary cannot be launched because the Alpha Relay site and the Coordinator are in the hands of the Old Ones."

There was a longer pause, and then a bluish light shone, and the voice changed, became almost … smooth. "This is Niqasa. Your hesitance is noted. Explain, decant and report."

Ishan relaxed slightly. They would not be destroyed outright. "Nazara detected Godpower signatures within the Galaxy. Since the Impure that we once were before you Ascended us did not know of the Catalyst, and none of the natives did, it does not follow they could be the cause of the Catalyst's activation. Nor has there been any evidence the native leaders understand their true peril. We deduced the only answer to the Catalyst being active was that the Catalyst was reactivated by the Old Ones, specifically to trap Nazara."

The big Collector hesitated, before speaking again. "Every modeling attempt at storming the Citadel ourselves and activating the Primary Relay lead to less than one percent success chance. We immediately decanted additional warrior-forms and began construction on larger war-chambers, but direct conflict seemed unwise. Our own technology would be more easily assimilated by native races than any remains of Nazara's combat-form and it would take us almost nineteen stancycles to build a sufficient force to guarantee success, and failures would generate a possible breach of the Severity, so that plan was abandoned."

Harbinger's voice rang out again. "Correct reasoning. Thus, you abandoned execution of Primary and fallback Primary. Explain the lack of execution of the Secondary Plan."

Ishan touched a panel, allowing data to flow. "We engaged in preparation to execute Secondary immediately. We assembled a strike force to physically secure the area near the Alpha Relay and reactivate the Coordinator Godpower unit. However, we were unable to approach closely due to very high grade retroceptive sensors and reality anchors of Old One make, and found the site heavily secured with additional unfamiliar Godpower signatures. Using secondary assets still under the influence of the Influence, we obtained slave stock and verified Godpower essence in the native culture known as the Batarian Hegemony."

The voice of Niqasa rumbled with a spill of blue light. "How many? Deployment of reality anchors suggests they are expecting direct assault from the Ascended."

"At least six, perhaps nine – possibly more in hibernation. Additional recon and work with a local intelligence power identified the Batarian Hegemony as being dominated by Old Ones for some time – estimated time frame is over five megacycles. Additional Old Ones were identified in rapture-sleep-hibernation on four different water worlds, guarded by elite forces. The interface between the batarians and the Old Ones appears to be religious in nature and has performed extensive bio-modification of the ruling group to block the Influence from affecting them."

Harbinger's 'voice' gained a sharp, almost amused tone as its golden light took ascendance again. "Clever. Continue."

The Collector General's four eyes narrowed. "The chances of military combat success against Old One units without assistance from at least one of the High Ones was determined to be basically zero."

The big Collector paused. "Thus, with the execution of both Primary, backup Primary, and Secondary blocked, we enacted a modified form of Tertiary. We engaged repairs on the Farcalling Device, immediately. We utilized what compromised assets remained of Nazara's own forces to conduct bio-cleansing on the batarian population. We captured slaves and inserted them back into batarian space after injecting them with the weakest level of enhancements to the Sight to enable them to react and reject Old One influence, and implanted low-level Severity breaching applications of resonance discharge to disturb the Old Ones version of the Influence."

Harbinger was silent, then gave a rumble of approval. "No breach of the Severity was noted. Your deployment appears to have fallen below Godpower baselines. The result?"

The Collector General dipped its bulk again. "Several powerful batarian leaders grew alarmed as their weak minds were suddenly negatively affected by the Old One's aura while freed from its Influence. They contrived a convoluted but effective plan to expose the Batarian emperor as being in league with the Old Ones, and to rally the native galactic governance and military against them. This was accomplished in part, but the plan was derailed by the interference of other natives, but not before a significant number of hibernating Old Ones were destroyed."

Niqasa's voice rumbled with amusement as twisted blue light flared. "That cannot be called a failure. Destruction of the Old Ones, with the highest likelihood of destroying the Severity's safety, takes priority even over the Harvest. Proceed."

With a touch of another panel, additional data was sent. "We abandoned our secondary forces still affected by the Influence at this point, as the natives have identified a primitive detection method. Instead, we were contacted by the aforementioned intelligence and security power, known as the Shadow Broker. The Broker is interested in survival at any cost and is influential in galactic events. The Broker was able to neutralize the primary actors involved in defeating Nazara and other incidents, and to ensure the native galactic governments do not act on what little they understand to interfere with the Harvest, whenever you decide it should occur."

Harbinger pulsed, the feeling making the entire room vibrate. "And?"

The collector leader faltered slightly. "...and we began the initial steps of the tertiary protocol in case we could not reach you via the Farcalling Device. We have already obtained a large amount of combat-grade Pale Guards, and a smaller number of the native race known as humans to begin building a Core device. If we could not contact you directly, the great lord we are building would be able to do so – or to lead us against the forces near the Alpha Relay."

There was silence for almost two minutes, before Harbinger's voice sounded. "I am transmitting a device to further boost the signal gain of the Farcalling. You will act as direct liaison for a modification of the Ascension Protocol, to cut out any feedback from the method."

The Collector General bowed. "I have already prepared a specialist host to allow the Great Lord we were building to utilize the Ascension Protocol. I will incorporate the changes. Should we halt work on the Core?"

A third voice, heretofore unheard, sounded in an eruption of sickening green light. "No. We have discovered additional Old One influence in a galaxy on the fringe of the Severity's limits, recklessly force-advancing a Tier Seven corruption into a possible Level Five Perversion. Six other galactic harvests are underway, including one with at least a Level Eight Perversion. Two more are in preparation. Nazara was late in performing the Calling in this galaxy and it is now severely out of phase. We are not in a position to begin the Harvest in your galaxy...yet. The native organics appear to be, from his last report, singularly incompetent and primitive. While the Catalyst is a threat it does not appear to be attempting synchronization."

Harbinger's voice sounded again. "Assuming the natives remain incompetent, a few more stancycles affects nothing. Continue building the Core using the most viable of the local races, which would appear to be these humans. Once it achieves quickening, we will assess its fitness. Prepare a military force to perform a direct strike at the Alpha Relay within three cycles. Once the Core is prepared and infused, it will lead your strike – a second instigation of bio-modified natives to disrupt this Batarian Hegemony should provide an opening. At that time we will deploy a minimal number of platforms lead by myself to pacify the galaxy and perform tetryon dimensional bombardment to the Citadel, neutralizing the Catalyst. The Old Ones will most likely flee at that point."

Ishad dipped again. "Understood. We are still encountering minor resistance, although we are secure. The natives are attempting to reverse engineer some of the materials of Nazara battle-form, and at least one Eternal Pyramid is being investigated as well."

Harbinger's voice was definitely amused this time. "That is no threat to us. A guardian of the cycles has their weapons and power reduced, and their secondary systems removed entirely, just in case this happens. They may be able to recreate some primitive versions of our technology, but it remains our technology – they cannot touch the Godpower. It is ultimately more likely to induce the Influence upon them. If they are fool enough to experiment with an Eternal Pyramid, then they are likely to be completely consumed by the Influence in short order."

Niqasa's smoother voice sounded. "And if the Old Ones are playing with events in the Prime Citadel Galaxy, it is very likely to be a distraction from what they are attempting in the Sculptor galaxy. A feint within a feint. We will play their games for our own purposes. Go. Do not fail us."

The Collector General let himself slump as the voices faded, and the Farcalling Device's subtle whine fell into silence. With a projection of pheromones, he instructed his assistants to leave, as he began planning how to implement the will of his masters.

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard woke up in the medical bay, blinking and frowning as she sat up. The bay itself was empty except for her and the man sitting in the chair next to the central operations bed.

She rubbed her eyes – which never removed the slightly gritty feeling – and looked at him carefully. He was tall, a lanky, middle aged man with long black hair tied back into a ponytail. His face was set into a small, gentle smile, and he leaned forward in the chair as she sat up, his white doctor's coat splitting to reveal a black suit and red silken shirt, along with a copper and coral bear pendant around his neck. His voice was a mix of gentle and sternly cold.

"Ah, good. You are finally awake. Is your vision normal, now?"

She blinked, then nodded. "Seems like it. How long was I out for?"

The man smiled wider. "About a day. I am Doctor Salish Six-Hawks, in charge of the project that integrated your blueware cybernetics and biotics. Doctor Lawson indicated you would probably have questions when you awoke, and I am the best suited to answer them."

He paused. "You should be able to sit up all the way."

Shepard swung down out of the elevated medical bed, thankful to see she had on a white t-shirt and sweatpants. The floor was cold to her feet, and she wondered how much money and time had gone into recreating her nervous system enough for that to even register before looking up.

"Yeah, a few. Like just what in fuck did you people do to me?"

Six-Hawks chuckled. "It isn't a matter of what we set out to do, rather what ended up happening. And there are two halves to that question: what we did to your body, and what your body has done to your soul."

She frowned. "I meant in the sense of what was done to my biotics that let me blow myself up."

A calm nod was his only reply at first, his dark eyes staring at hers. After a few moments, he gave a small sigh. "There is a clear explanation for that much, at least. The Revenant Project was alarmingly unconcerned about the spiritual ramifications of what was done to you, but we can discuss that if you like at a later time. To answer your question, without getting into a boring technical discussion, commander, the easiest thing for me to do is show you, if you have a moment."

His deferential and wordy manner and calm voice settled her nerves slightly. "...Sure. Hit me."

He held up a data-slate, and tapped it, bringing up an image of a human outline. "Doctor Lawson should have told you that your body is not the same as it was. Namely, you died. Your body still needs food and oxygen to function, but most of your body's mass is gone – including the mass of nerves in your nervous system that provided the bio-electrical energy that allowed you to use biotics."

She nodded sourly. "So I'm Robocop but without the cold-press juicer helmet. I understand that."

He gave a thin smile. "Most biotics, to simplify things greatly, are powered by the nervous system. It provides the electrical energy that energizes the eezo in your body, which produces a dark energy wave. Modulated by both your nerves and the bio-amp, this wave is converted to produce work – biotic effects."

He tapped the image, and both legs, most of both arms, and parts of the body vanished, the blue glow filling the outline fading to almost nothing. "Your limbs were removed and much of your spine converted to cybernetics. While great care was taken to make you feel as much like a living woman as possible, it is, I am afraid, mostly a lie. Less than eleven percent of the nervous mass of your body outside your spinal core nerve bundles, brain stem, and brain remain, mostly the nerves for your heart, eyes, and some sensory and other organs. You, without augmentation, could not even generate the weakest pull now."

He smiled. "We did the best we could with pressure, temperature, and other sensors to mimic a normal sense of feeling. But it is only mimicry."

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Thanks for driving the point home, doc. Anyway, so if my nervous system isn't producing bio-electricity..." She trailed off with an arched eyebrow.

He tapped the image a third time, this time the almost-cartoonish outline of an Inusannon Power Star filling the image's belly, and the outline filled with blue light. "Your biotics are now powered by converted energy from the power star in your body, with your blueware cybernetics performing the double duty of channeling the energy to your biotic nodes, and providing a channel for the dark energy to leave your body."

Six-Hawks put down the slate. "Unfortunately, due to limitations in how much complexity can be crammed into such a small package, we had to utilize a great deal of … innovation. Much of your body is comprised of semi-state Inusannon 'living metal'. And we have discovered that this metal is somewhat more reactive to dark energy than originally planned. While testing prior to and after your awakening did not generate any anomalous readings, we did note your power baselines were far, far higher than originally anticipated."

She bit her lip. "Meaning?"

Six-Hawks sighed. "Meaning that we don't have a good way to dial down how much power you can pull from your power source without crippling your biotics. Managing the energy in a rapid accurate fashion for wildly different biotic uses is simply something that would require a dedicated VI and tens of millions of credits in design upgrades."

He folded his arms. "For the most part your biotics are strong – very strong. Originally we thought they would be on par with a decently trained asari commando, but it appears that under stress and when doing what most biotic practitioners call a 'core pull' you can actually channel a staggering amount of energy and produce equally staggering results."

Shepard leaned back. She was familiar with the core pull – a moment of hard focus and straining to throw all your strength into a biotic attack. It usually left your nerves on fire, and made you dizzy and uncoordinated for a few seconds, but could produce slightly stronger and faster results.

She scratched her head. "I'm not sure I get this. It's just power, right? Can't you just stick a capacitor or something like a circuit breaker in me? Fuck, what's the point of being a goddamned cybernetic freak if you can't even stop me from frying myself?"

Six-Hawks shook his head. "Blueware and biotic interactions with the nervous system and biotics are not as simple as general cybermedicine. We could have tried to make it where you do not 'fry yourself' – but that would limit your power sharply. Miranda still thinks this is the safest option."

He smiled. "However, instead I decided to simply augment the rating of the power-links, add additional heatsinks, and put in a few buffers to prevent direct nervous system damage from overloads in the future." His eyes became a touch sad. "To attempt to give you normalcy in your current state would be an insult to you."

She tilted her head. "So...you could have simply said that you made it harder for me to blow myself up."

Six-Hawks nodded. "I could. But that brings me back to my earlier point. You have been modified heavily, to the point that it is arguable if you are human or not. Many people would have serious issues adjusting in the long term. What 'we did to you' was convert you into a killing machine the likes of which has never been seen. Compromising that now seems very dangerous. Your power has been expressed and is expected – for me to cut you off from it now would leave you in danger."

His expression tightened. "You plan, I am informed, on going after one of the most dangerous biotics in space, Tetrimus the Dagger. Unlike most of Cerberus, I have had the unhappy experience of seeing this person in action. You will need every possible advantage to even stay alive in a fight with him. This level of power might be what is required to keep you alive in such a confrontation. It does not serve you nor the Illusive Man to weaken you in the name of safety in the short term when it is unlikely that such safety is actually safe in the long run."

She snorted. "Aww, you're indulging in mad science to keep me safe? How sweet." Her voice flattened into sarcastic anger. "In other words, utility trumps safety. I'm not as useful to TIM in the long run if I am not as powerful as possible, even if that risks my life. Figures."

Six-Hawks shrugged. "I did not take this job because I believe in the Illusive Man's goals. Indeed, I was not aware this was a Cerberus operation until a few days prior to your awakening. Nor do I think attempting to make you more comfortable or safe has any place in what we have done here."

He folded his arms. "You are a dead woman alive due to billions of dollars worth of cybernetics and technology we barely comprehend. You aren't here to feel normal, or rebuild your life – you are here for revenge, and anything getting in the way of your revenge is likely to make you turn on us if we are the source. Neither I nor any of the rest of the medical team can do anything about that."

Shepard said nothing for a long moment before straightening on the medical bed. "...you're right about that. I'm not having a pity party for myself, Doc. But I need to have a better method of being able to use the big guns I have without leaving myself barely able to see or walk."

Six-Hawks nodded. "I have done what I can in that regard. It will take a few more days for the internal damage to fully clear – I had to pick fragments of heat sink ceramics out of your lungs. I would recommend some light training to figure out what the safe thresholds are."

He stood. "In any event, I believe Doctor Chambers would like to speak to you soon. You should be cleared to go about your business, although your back will be slightly sore for the rest of the day."

He nodded and turned to leave, and Shepard frowned. "You said something about spiritual ramifications."

He paused, turning back, and took a deep breath. "I am of the First Nations, that which in their arrogance the Americans deigned to call Native Americans. The People survived the Days of Iron by abandoning what little link we had left to nature, and my own studies fly in the face of everything natural. And yet, I do not forget the wisdom of my fathers."

He fingered the pendant around his neck as he spoke. "There are limits to what can be done to a human body. We know that after a certain percentage, standard cybernetics begin to fail, the body sickens, the spirit withers. Psychosis and insomnia, hallucinations, cancers, allergic rejections and toxic shock syndrome consume the person underneath the metal. Below 45% these problems are minimal, below 65% they can be … ameliorated. You are well beyond those thresholds."

He folded his arms. "Doctors Lawson and Chambers took extreme steps to make your condition as … viable as possible. Very few cybernetic conversions pay any attention to that, while you have skin that is warm, sexual organs, nerves hooked up so you can taste and smell, and every possible attempt at making your body feel 'living' and 'normal'. But you know what lies beneath, and the technology we used to revive you has many aspects even Vigil was not familiar with."

She nodded slowly. "Okay...and?"

Six-Hawks fixed her with his dark gaze. "Lawson has not told you the full truth about what will probably happen to you as your system struggles and fails to adapt to the cybernetics within you. Every time you are injured, your biological components will take longer to heal, and are more likely to suffer failure or develop cancer. The more strain you put on your body, the more it will begin to sicken and die. Your spirit – which I know sounds anachronistic, even superstitious – is no longer whole."

He unfolded his arms, letting them hang. "There is nothing we can do to fix that. We are using various hormones and drugs to trick the cells of your brain, heart, and other remaining organs to continue functioning and to keep the cells dividing. More tricks to hide the nature of how much of you is gone from your limbic system. Eventually, I am told, most people in your state will become … disconnected from reality."

Shepard nodded a second time. "I already knew I was a zombie, doc. Does it upset you?"

Six-Hawks sighed. "It is an abomination against everything I know, against the purpose of cybernetic medicine and against ethics. A weaker person with a weaker mind would not have survived. I – "

She held up a hand, cutting him off. "I get it. I've never been … spiritual. Or religious. And when I was dead I don't remember lakes of fire or streets of gold. God is an evil fucker if he lets people like me go through what I did, so I could give a shit about Him."

She shook her head. "But the man who trained me told me once that when shit gets bad, the only thing I can do it tell it to myself straight."

A faint smile flickered over her lips, hearing Ahern's voice in her head. "I've lost more than most people, but I am not going to just sit down and cry, or give up. Even if I'm rotting away and this body is going to give out, I'm not going to just quit because I am motherfucking Sara Ying Shepard, the baddest bitch in the entire galaxy."

He looked at her for a long moment before inclining his head. "Indeed you are. If your spirit continues to burn as brightly in death as it did in life...perhaps I will be proven wrong. Let us hope so." He turned away. "I will notify Doctor Chambers you are awake."

She grunted. "Tell her I'll be in my quarters."

It took a good twenty-five minutes to clean herself up – a long, hot shower, and a slug of scotch as she put on her robe in the privacy of her quarters. As she was sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, the door pinged and slid open, revealing Kelly Chambers.

"C'mon in. Scotch is on the table."

Kelly did so, pouring herself a glass and then sitting down across from Shepard. Her eyes looked a bit tired, the hair a bit messy. "Did Six-Hawks give you the medicine man speech?"

Shepard snorted. "I'm surprised Cerberus signed up a guy like that. He had a point, though. I'm not really alive."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "You're smoking and drinking. Enjoyable, yes?"

Shepard took a hit from her cigarette, then exhaled. "I guess."

Kelly leaned back. "Well, then. We worked pretty damned hard to you to be able to act like you are alive. We even spent almost a month on salvaging – one at a time – nerve bundles and bits of your real skin so you could indulge in the kinds of things you like in the bedroom."

She smirked, but Shepard gave her an annoyed look. "Not much chance of that happening, Chambers."

Kelly shrugged. "What I mean is your life is NOT over. You are not dead. Sure, there will be complications down the line, but we have an entire team and a blank check to come up with solutions. Six-Hawks and the 'ethical' types like him think cybernetics is monstrous. That's a bunch of twaddle."

She sipped some of the scotch. "Life is what you make of it. You don't know what will happen after you crush Tetrimus and stop the Collectors. Maybe you'll find someone else who makes you feel like Liara did. Maybe you can use your influence and power to save more people, to improve things."

She shrugged. "Anyway. I know you were a little pissed about what you saw down there. The Illusive Man had hints Collectors were behind the attacks, but no firm evidence. Now that we have it, and it is in the hands of the Alliance and Council, we have to see what they plan to do."

Shepard snorted. "Shit, Kelly, I can tell you that. Pick the most fucking retarded option for the worst possible reason and go with that." She smiled sourly. "The Council actually lambasted me for blowing up that Tho'ian on Feros, for fuck's sake. Not to mention wanting me to fucking arrest Liara, bitching about every mission, whining about losing so many STG on Virmire..."

She sighed. "And don't get me started on going along with the bullshit the SA pulled on me when I wanted to go after Benezia. If they hadn't fucking delayed me, all the people who died on the Citadel might have lived. So, honestly, fuck them."

Kelly smiled. "That's actually pretty much inline with what we know. Miranda and the ops team will talk it over with you later on tomorrow, but our initial intel suggests the Council is sending Spectres after you."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Cute. Which ones?"

Kelly's smile thinned. "One is confirmed : Captain Jason Delacor."

Shepard was silent for several seconds, sipping calmly on her scotch, and then threw back her head in laughter. "Oh, that's fucking rich."

Kelly shrugged. "They put him in command of your old battlegroup – your commissar, Jiong, is his oversight. We don't have any hard details on what they plan to do, but we suspect they will want to capture you – somehow they know about your link to us and about Vigil."

Shepard winced. "Vigil said he wiped the quarian's omni-tools on Freedom's Progress, and cut off the security cameras once we got inside."

Kelly shrugged. "We only have minimal assets on the Citadel, and only got this data through a third party, so we don't have details. The Illusive Man suggests that, since it is usually some time between Collector attacks, this is a good time to pick up Jack, investigate Korlus, and generally stay off the radar. Omega is too hot right now and Mordin Solus is moving to a location in the Black Rim, not that far from Korlus – we'll try to see if we can't intercept him once he leaves where he is now."

Shepard nodded. "Leaving Delacor to look for me aimlessly? I can do that. Does Warden Kuril know the truth?"

Kelly shook her head. "Absolutely not. Whether you trust him enough to tell him is up to you – we know you invited him to your wedding and had dealings with him before. We have an asset heading to Korlus right now to prep for your arrival. That's...not what I came here to talk about."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Hit me."

Kelly smiled. "You mentioned that you wished you could talk to a few people. We know your old XO is still on Dirth. We have someone we need to pick up from that planet that will be aiding us, and the Illusive Man did not disagree when I said you might like to talk to Pressly. Additionally, the Illusive Man wants you to make contact with former President Windsor, who is on exile on Dirth."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

Kelly sighed. "Cerberus has few allies within the Families – and none at all within the High Lords of Sol that can be utilized. Despite being in exile, many nobles still communicate with Windsor, and his influence is merely broken, not destroyed. We need to know what is going on with the Families, and he's the only person we know with insight that could tell us besides the von Graths – and we are trying to keep our distance from them, since they're under Commissariat suspicion."

Kelly finished her drink. "One of the modifications we made to your body was the ability for us to change your skin tone – and your hair is designed to load various dye program packages. With some contacts, baggy clothes, and the respirator a victim of Urtan Lung Spore Decay would wear, no one will recognize you. Dirth's customs systems are outdated and we have a way past them in any event."

Shepard leaned back and folded her arms. "This is a bit out of the blue. I would figure you want me moving immediately on building a team and stopping the Collectors."

Kelly shrugged. "Like I said, Miranda will cover more of this tomorrow – but the long and the short of it is that with those … stasis bugs, our plans of boarding a Collector vessel are nil until we research a way to neutralize them. We're deploying teams now to every single wildcat colony, setting up what we hope will be a series of shielded traps that can capture one of the things and perform a destructive scan on it. Once we have data on how it works, we'll use that to capture the interest of Mordin Solus and hope he can help us come up with a counter."

She poured herself some more scotch. "Until then, my job is making sure you are stable. We're still looking for ways to approach Archangel and the Sisters of Vengeance. Mr. Massani will be tied up for at least another week, as will Ms. Goto. We may as well use this time productively."

Shepard sighed. "Whatever."

Kelly nodded and, picking up her glass, stood. "Oh. Matriarch Trellani was off the base and wants to speak with you tomorrow about some kind of training. She said you would enjoy it. For now, try to get a good nights rest – being in shutdown mode like we have you doesn't let you have any REM sleep, so you need it."

Shepard nodded. She did feel drained and tired, even though she knew intellectually her body couldn't get tired anymore. "I think I will. I'll see you at breakfast."

Kelly gave a bright smile and departed, and Shepard shook her head. She still didn't trust Kelly very much...and every conversation with her had a point. She reached over and tapped the commlink. "Hey, Joker."

Joker's voice came across sourly. "Whaaaaat. I'm watching Fleet and Flotilla."

She smirked. "My holo screen is bigger and I'm bored. Bring Tali and some popcorn."

Joker was silent a second. "Really? I mean, sure. I guess. It's pretty sappy sometimes, but its got some good fight scenes."

Tali's voice sounded across the comm, slightly slurred. Shepard's mouth quirked in amusement at the thought of drunk Tali. "Maybe we should bring the OSD of that movie they made."

Shepard frowned. "Movie?"

Joker's voice was choked with laughter. "Oh, yeah. We'll be there in ten." He cut off with a sarcastic cackle, and Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose.

"If that fool brings me a porn video of some kind, I'm killing him."


	14. Arc II: Sadly, not over a rope bridge

_**A/N**:  
_

_Hey gang.  
_

_While I have a list of emails to give people access to the chapter, I'm going to be busy for several days. My cousin (a mailman) was clipped by a truck while doing his job. He's alright - out of the hospital, some minor fractures at C6 and C7 - but he's going to be taking it easy for a few days and I'm going to hang out at his place for a bit.  
_

_Since I won't be able to grab the updates and put it up until late next week I just pushed this chapter out. _

_Chapter moves around a bit, but I hope it addresses some things that people were asking about. I know this is all a bit slow, but in the game things were needed to go fast to keep up the impression of urgency - here, I have time to explain it all. _

* * *

_'There can be no rights allowed for a mob that are forbidden for an individual, nor moral stances that are valid in the name of revenge but not justice, unless one lies to one's self. Self-deception is the tool of all dictators, vigilantes, and idealists throughout history.'  
_

_\- Saint Victor Manswell, 'The Second Fall of Eden'  
_

* * *

Shepard woke early the next morning, after pausing to incinerate the OSD of 'Citadel' Joker had left in her room last night. She'd actually enjoyed herself, after talking with Joker and telling him to stop blaming himself for her death. Fleet and Flotilla was certainly not what she had expected. Then they'd pulled out the 'movie' the Alliance had made of her battle against Saren and Benezia, and got a sinking feeling in her stomach as Joker began to cackle.

She'd forced herself to watch it, accompanied by the hysterical laughter of Joker and half-drunken giggles of Tali, up until the 'fight' with Saren.

It wasn't bad enough that the Alliance had turned her death into anti-geth propaganda, or outright lied about her past. It wasn't bad enough the actress they'd chosen to play her had breasts the size of a small colony and the same sort of acting ability as found in a table lamp.

No, they'd had Saren and her fight it out in a vast underground ice cavern, with explosions everywhere, fighting with goddamned gun-fu, made up martial arts, and cheesy lines.

Of course, Joker had completely lost it when 'Shepard' and Saren had uttered the movie's most cringe-worthy lines.

"Give up, human! You can't beat a Spectre like me!"

"Ha! I eat Spectres for breakfast – and since I skipped it this morning, I'm very hungry!"

Shepard had watched this (and Joker falling out of his chair in complete laughing meltdown) and face-palmed. "I can't believe this macho bullshit."

She sighed as she pulled on yet another loosely fitting jumpsuit after finishing her shower. Her new body was weird – she didn't really sweat unless she wanted to – but habits like showering died hard. She was still amused at how easily her hair fell into place after a just a few passes with a comb, instead of the hopeless tangles it had gotten into while she was still alive.

She exhaled, exiting and heading to the living section of the base to pick up breakfast. As she slowly ate her food, frowning and wondering how in the hell Cerberus had managed to restore her taste buds and how the fuck they got their hands on real bacon, Miranda sat down across from her with a cup of coffee.

Shepard arched an eyebrow at the slightly bleary-eyed look of her XO. "You look like you didn't sleep real well."

Miranda sighed. "I did not. Hardly unusual. I've been coordinating various supply efforts, submitting reports to the Illusive Man, working with our financial coordinators to provide additional equipment and with Mr. Ezno to remove the last bits of incriminating materials from the base. And now, this morning, we have a ship coming in with the first batch of living soldiers and techs that will be working with us."

Shepard nodded, sipping her orange juice and pushing back a lock of hair. "Do these people know they're going to be working for Cerberus? Most of the ones I approved had no Cerberus connections."

Miranda shrugged. "They know they are going to be working for an independent mercenary outfit, and our people hinted – delicately – that it would be one doing work on the frontier and going after slavers. We had each one monitored – visual and electronic, with Vigil looking over their communications and extranet activity – and they're all clean. The first batch is a handful of soldiers, about fifteen techs, and a few scientists. I'll be handling the latter. I need you there – in full armor with your helmet on – to deal with the former."

Shepard nodded. "Yeah."

Miranda pulled a pad from the wide pockets on the coat she wore over her jumpsuit, pushing it across the metal table surface. "These are the first run of participants. You'll notice a common theme. Based on what you said you wanted...Chambers suggested you would approve. "

Shepard reviewed the names, then slowly smiled. "...I'm surprised some of these people signed up, especially considering what they've already been through." She tapped two names. "Although these two are still crazy."

It took two hours for the ship to arrive, time Shepard mostly spent reviewing her next plan of action with the intel people in operations. So far, the Citadel had flat-out lied about who had taken out Freedom's Progress, and dispatched Delacor and Tela Vasir to take her down. The combined Spectre strike group was busy investigating wildcat colonies, along with a C-SEC Special Investigations team looking into investments into said colonies.

Shepard was completely baffled by this, but Trudy Menrows, her senior intel analyst, had merely snorted in amusement.

"Based on the information we're getting – most of it fragmentary – the Citadel seems to think the Butcher is a threat. They've also decided that Cerberus is acting against the Collectors mostly to boost our cachet among the wildcat colonies in some kind of plan to take them over. Delacor and Vasir are there to 'catch us in the act' at either Horizon or New Caledonia, the two biggest colonies in the wildcat group. Thanks to Vigil, we've already intercepted and decrypted hundreds of calls to banks and investment houses trying to figure out a pattern. Of course, there isn't one, since we aren't doing that. I have no idea who thought that would be our goal..."

Shepard had rubbed her forehead. "...called it. Pick the stupidest goddamned action for the worst possible reason and go with that. Is there any reason we'd need to go to Horizon or New Caledonia?"

Trudy shook her head. "No, unless one of them gets attacked."

Shepard nodded. "Let them waste their time for a week, then send a self-destruct armed FTL drone with a message for them – I'll meet with the Citadel when I damned well _please_, and that they're making themselves look like fools. Make the FTL drone approach from the direction of asari space."

Her next few days would be eventful – meet with her new soldiers, then head to Dirth to talk to a few people. Once done there, she'd swing by Kuril's station and extract Jack, along with whatever intel Kuril had on the Blue Suns operation on Korlus and their activities on Omega. After she put a slug into Okeer and got the intel she needed from him, TIM should have found a way to make contact with either the salarian doctor, Archangel, or the Sisters of Vengeance.

Zaeed would be arriving in a week or so, and this Goto woman would send a message when she was ready for pickup. Given that the Collectors did not usually raid more than once month, she felt pretty secure in the fact that they would have most of her initial team line up ready to go when the Collectors attacked next.

She also had to meet with Trellani at some point – the asari matriarch would be arriving tomorrow, a few hours before Shepard left for Dirth, and said she wanted to train her how to do something involving biotics. With a sigh, Shepard copied her plans and notes down to her omni-tool as quiet alarms began sounding.

By the time she'd gotten to the main receiving bay, Miranda was already there along with Tali, Joker, and Trellani herself. Also present, on the high balconies that held extra supplies, were two squads of sniper-equipped mechs. Sixty more flanked the edges of the docking bay, blocking the way to the rest of the base.

The ship that entered the bay was elongated, matte black and surprisingly sleek looking, a converted small cargo hauler retrofitted to carry passengers. The armaglass viewing bays were sealed with armor plates, and as the ship touched down, Shepard glanced to one side, where Chambers had just walked up.

"Miranda tells me these people don't know they're working for Cerberus. Was that wise?"

The redhead shrugged. "They aren't working for Cerberus, Shepard. They're working for _you_. They won't have any insight into the organization or how it works, both for their protection and ours. One reason we made such an effort to … compartmentalize everything is that you may be forced to cut ties with us in order to convince the Council or Alliance to listen."

Shepard gave her a dubious look, but realized the psychologist could hardly see it through the mirrored faceplate, and settled for a grunt, turning back to look at the ship as a side cargo bay door swung open and down, forming a ramp. About thirty five people slowly descended down the ramp, glancing around at the ranks of the war robots nervously.

Leading them was a muscular, broad shouldered Hispanic male with his head shaven, his thick mustache bent with the shape of his frown, wearing a gray SA t-shirt and rip-stop canvas combat pants. He was flanked by two males almost as big, each one wearing black leather jackets with a DACT logo and the words "Jump up Jump Up And Get Down" on the sleeves in red satin thread. Behind them was a tight grouping of atheletic looking men and women, many with cybernetics, and a second group mostly in more refined civilian clothing, looking nervous.

The big man in the front came to a stop about ten feet away from Miranda, glancing over the people behind her, then fixing his eyes on the figure in white armor.

Senior Chief Emilo Vega scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, your recruiters told us we would have all this shit explained once we got to … wherever the hell we are. So how about some explaining."

Miranda gave a nod, glancing over the group. "That is correct. Each of you was contacted independently due to a number of factors, the primary factor being your separation from the Systems Alliance in one fashion or another. Some of you, like Doctor Jales, were thrown out by the current administration from important positions based on your stance. Others, like Mr. Kenneson, were removed from your jobs due to political issues."

She smiled thinly. "And many of you, including you, Senior Chief Vega, were cashiered from service with extremely restrictive warnings and orders against speaking of what you saw when you traveled with Commander Shepard."

A thick-set man with a head just as shaven as Vega's folded meaty arms. "Lady, get to the point."

Miranda smiled thinly. "Of course, Sergeant Ownby. You have been contracted to serve with someone who is doing good for the service of humanity. You have been contracted because we feel you are trustworthy. Once you hear out what we are offering if you choose to leave you can get back on that ship and it will return to the Citadel."

Shepard really doubted that. The very faint muttering of Tali next to her was almost darkly amusing, and Shepard cleared her throat. "If you don't mind...I'll handle the rest."

Miranda stepped back as Shepard walked up, still clad head to foot in white armor. "I am guessing you boys and girls know who I am?"

Chief Haln nodded, as did others. "You're the Butcher."

She smiled. She'd never thought the man would walk again after the shit he'd been put through on Virmire. "That's right. And many of you are Shepard's marines, from the Normandy or the Kazan. The rest of you – doctors, scientists, whatever – you'll understand in a moment why you are here. Before I say anything else, though, I want to be blunt."

"The organization I am being backed by is Cerberus."

The reaction was interesting. The people out of the group she didn't know – the techs, she guessed – seemed nervous, while the marines – to the last man and woman – glared hard at her. Vega spoke. "Look, I know you're some kinda asari badass, so why in fuck are you working with a bunch of racist assholes?"

Tali stepped forward, with Joker behind her. "Hello, Senior Chief."

Vega blinked at the voice, then blinked again at Joker, before shaking his head. "That you, Cutie Pie?"

She nodded. "Yes it is me. Tali. The fact I'm _here _, wearing this" – she pointed to the embossed Cerberus logo on her shoulder – "should tell you they've changed. You were down there when Shepard found out from the Illusive Man how to take out the Cerberus leadership."

Vega folded his arms again. "Alright. But this still ain't what I signed up for. The person feeling me out made it sound like a mercenary work gig, and a chance to avenge the Boss Lady. Now I find out I'm working with the Butcher and Cerberus."

Shepard held up a hand. "You wanted to avenge Shepard?"

Vega turned to face her."Yeah. A lot of us did. The SA shitcanned the entire Normandy crew because we'd 'seen too many sensitive materials'. Had Commissars give us a debrief, heavy on the flamethrower jokes. Dragged our own Commissars off to God knows where. The XO quit, most of the crew quit, after being interrogated for six weeks. They still think one of us sabotaged the Normandy. Can't get a decent job anywhere."

Another man spoke, dark skinned and heavyset. "And some of us were not associated with Shepard, directly. I'm Roland Taylor. Corsair program is being taken apart and … weird shit is happening to it. With the batarians gone, fielding us against geth is just fucking stupid. Most of the captains are being stipended off and told to run as merchants, but some of us wanted to pop a cap in the ass of a few more slavers. And, like him...Corsairs aren't well liked in the civilian sector. Too dangerous." He snorted, then gave the bay a distasteful look. "Don't mean I'd sign up with Cerberus to get a job, though."

Shepard nodded. "I understand. Here is what I will tell you all. The geth did not kill Sara Shepard, and slavers did not take the wildcat colony populations."

The room felt silent, and the woman standing next to Ownby rubbed a heavy scar on her arm. "What?"

Shepard smiled behind her helmet at the sight of Sergeant Haskins. "Shepard was killed by the manipulations of the Shadow Broker. Cerberus was the party that helped … with the events at Omega. They've been the one trying to find out who is really behind the colony abductions. And they went off the rails because of orders from the SA when they were an unofficial black ops unit."

Shepard folded her arms, letting her weight fall back onto one hip. "The truth I'm about to show you all is going to be hard to take. Just keep in mind...you should have known better."

Vega frowned. "Better than what?"

Shepard tapped her omni, and her helmet split and retracted into the armor. She smirked. "That anything could actually fucking kill me, Emilo."

The bay was dead silent for a long moment before Ownby spoke. "... I am never, ever buying weed from shady quarians on fucking Pilgrimage again."

Tali snorted back laughter, while Vega's eyes narrowed. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

Joker shook his head. "Nope. It's really her."

Shepard faced the group. "The details...you don't really want to know. Suffice it to say that it took billions upon billions of credits and technology that should make you sick to think about to bring me back. I'm more machine than human now."

One of the engineers from the Normandy in the group stepped forward. "We saw the wreckage of the Normandy when they went in. NOTHING could have survived that crash."

She tilted her head. "I didn't."

Haln frowned. "You can't bring back the dead." Many muttered agreement, but Vega held up a hand, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes further.

"Something like Huerta, I'm guessing?"

Miranda snorted. "Please. Much more complex than that. Assuming you all agree to work for her – and please keep in mind you would be working for Shepard, not Cerberus – you can have the simple version of the details behind her resurrection."

Haln nodded sourly. "With all the crap Cerberus was up to back in the day, I shouldn't be surprised. Then again, technology like you're talking about ..." He paused. "If we had that kind of technology, wouldn't we have seen more cases like this?"

Shepard shrugged. "Matt, from what they told me, they could have built a damned carrier task force with armor and ground support for the cost of my cybernetics alone, not to mention all of this." She spread her hands around the cavernous flight bay. "The technology they had to come up with – inventing most of it from scratch – and for the rest, well, they had help."

The spherical form of Vigil erupted into view, and Vega snorted. "Ha. I guess that would do it, based on what we saw on the Citadel." He turned to face Shepard directly. "...since Tali and Joker are here, I'm guessing no one else is going to pull off miraculous resurrections?"

Shepard's gaze flicked away, her jaw tightening. "No, Senior Chief."

He nodded slowly. "...I'm sorry, ma'am. Do you know who killed her?"

She nodded. "Shadow Broker. Tetrimus." She exhaled. "I still have a mission. Stop the attacks on human colonies. And stop the Broker from whatever bullshit he is doing. There's also a likelihood that the Alliance has its fingers in some shit that it shouldn't. I'll have to stop that too."

She looked at the group. "The big ship at the Citadel that nearly took down the combined fleets of all races, Saren's flagship – that wasn't the only one. There are more of those things, a lot more, and if we don't do something to get ready for them, we'll be sitting ducks. You saw what just ONE did."

Ronald Taylor's eyes widened. "The geth have more of those things?"

Tali shook her head. "It isn't the geth. The ships ARE the threat themselves. A type of AI that is responsible for killing the Protheans and lots of other races. And they want to kill us, too."

Vega rubbed his eyes tiredly, then glanced back over the group. "This is a lot to take in."

Shepard nodded. "I know. And I don't expect it to be something you take in all in one day. I had my staff put together a lot of drinks in our eating area, so we can talk some more there. Miranda, can you please handle the people you added to the list, in terms of briefing? My marines can follow me."

She felt her smile widen as the words 'my marines' made each and every one of them straighten just a little bit, walk a bit taller. She gestured towards the big double doors set into the far wall and they were about to start moving in that direction when the far door opened and Jacob Taylor stepped through, a frown on his face. "Sorry I'm late, but we had high impact traffic come in. Mordin Solus is on the move, and we think we know where he is going. Not sure when he'll be done, and even if he left today he won't hit a place where we can intercept him for five days."

She was about to reply when she heard a choked cough from behind her. "J-Jacob?" The voice of Roland Taylor sounded strained, and Jacob just gave him a wave.

"Oh, hey, what's up, pop?"

**O-TWCD-O**

Briefing – and drinking – with the marines took another two hours. She was amused when Jacob's father put him in a headlock for not telling him he wasn't actually dead, and she herself spent most of her time being quizzed by each of them about small events only the real Shepard would know about.

Still, it didn't take long to convince them that she really was alive, although the ramifications seemed to trouble Vega more than the rest. A strong Neo-Catholic, he had very direct questions about what death was like.

Shepard gave him the best answer she could. "I remember dying, and then waking up. If there is a Heaven or Hell...I didn't make the trip or don't remember." She smiled wryly, tapping her temple. "Or I'm a soulless cyberzombie. Take your pick."

Once they got past the idea she was alive, she told them a simplified outline of what was going on and the goals she'd set. Blowing up the Broker was a big part of that – not only did the bastard kill the Normandy and everybody in Ops Alley, crippled Pressly and killed Shepard, but he'd been involved in the deaths of Liara, Garrus, Telanya, Aethyta and was quite possibly working with the Collectors.

The Collector angle was a new one for the marines, as nothing even hinting at that angle had hit the extranet. Shepard made a mental note to have her ops people start extranet rumors and pondered releasing the video footage Veetor had taken, but decided to hold off on that.

Her jobs for the marines were two fold. The first was to have living, breathing people on the new Normandy. Vigil's robots were excellent, of course, but privately Shepard wasn't sure if the Inusannon AI could be trusted 100%. It definitely had its own agenda, even if it never spoke of it – and in any event, as she said out loud, going up against Collectors or worse might mean Vigil being knocked out of commission somehow.

Her second reason was more personal, and she found herself having to steady her voice as she spoke.

"I won't lie. The biggest reason you're here is I know you. I've fought with you and got nearly got most of you killed. What I'm going through – this whole being alive again thing – is not … easy. It's not something I can do _alone_. And we may not be close, but I trust each and every one of you with my back. I need that, to … keep myself going."

It was the DACT pilot, Florez, who spoke first after that. "...well, shit, Boss Lady. Say no more, you know we got your back."

Shepard smiled. "When Miranda told me you two lunatics had somehow survived and were actually going to be coming along, I had my engineers work on something for you two."

The two DACT grinned, and Vega shook his head. "If I had any doubts, they are now gone. Only you would encourage these idiots."

She nodded. "I have another request, but only for one of you. Tomorrow, I'm headed out in disguise on a mission. Doctor Lawson has been my executive officer of this operation, and she'll continue acting in that aspect in many ways, but the Normandy herself needs an XO, and someone to teach her the ropes of doing the job right. I need someone to tag along on a trip I'm making to fix that."

Vega frowned. "Where you headed, Boss Lady?"

She folded her arms. "I'm headed to Dirth to talk to Pressly."

Haln winced. "I've spoken to him a few times. He's...not the same as he used to be."

She shrugged. "Well, now. Neither am I, chief. Neither am I." She downed her scotch and smiled, leaning back. "Now who is coming with me?"

Haln sighed. "Since I know him the best, I should go. I've got family on Dirth anyway I can check up on."

She nodded. "Thanks, Matt." She poured herself another scotch, and looked around at her marines. "Look on the bright side, boys and girls. The new Normandy has an elevator that is fast and a real kitchen. Beds for everyone."

Ownby snorted. "It doesn't have a bar."

Shepard chuckled and drank. "Actually, Mike, yes it does."

**O-TWCD-O**

"Welcome to Makana, Doctor. The SIX appreciate your rapid response to this issue."

Mordin Solus' nostrils widened slightly as he stepped off the small passenger shuttle, the scents of strong disinfectants and the tang of UV-seared air battling for dominance. He adjusted the fall of his coat as he stepped forward, eyes narrowing slightly. "Thanks unnecessary. Situation on Omega is stable, despite chaos from Archangel. Erash useful in that regard, even if stubborn about not revealing Archangel identity."

It had been more than few years since Mordin had ventured within the Salarian Union. In the aftermath of his work with the STG, especially his final missions, he found himself with far too many moral dilemmas and questions to continue such actions. Retirement from the STG was hardly unheard of, but usually this was done only after a male was chosen to breed or was getting too old to be of active service with no wish to push paper or coordinate teams.

Mordin, on the other hand, heavily criticized the entire planning process of the STG, eventually coming to serious conflict not only with STG Command but with his own sister, the dalatrass of Clan Solus, over it. While Muvai claimed she understood where he was coming from, the clan needed him in the STG and to keep quiet – and he wasn't willing to do such. When she warned him such independence would result in his removal from the breeding lists, he'd tattooed his face with the mark of the Lythari and bade his family farewell.

That had been a painful thing to do, and in the years since he'd left his sister had sent a number of messages to offer reconciliation. He had replied politely to each one – he loved his sister more than anything else in life, after all – but had stayed firm on remaining outside the Union. He kept in touch with various STG contacts – his old captains, Kirrahe and Anoleis, and made a few reports of events on Omega – but aside from that he had disconnected himself completely.

Working as an independent medical contractor and then opening his own clinic on Omega had given him a since of satisfaction untainted with questions of right or wrong. Helping those others ignored, seen by many as sentimental and foolish, helped him deal with the millions of stillborn krogan whose deaths could be laid at his door.

The models did not lie; the only choice had been to continue the Genophage. Looking over the ancient notes left behind by the original STG team and the strange krogan doctor, Okeer, he had agreed with the need for continuing the Genophage But he had also seen the living cost, the sorrow of krogan females who could not bear healthy young killing themselves in shamed failure. The brutal fights over the few fertile females between clans struggling just to feed and shelter themselves.

And he'd seen the cost to the salarians, the mental strain on his assistant that nearly broke his sanity, and the edgy anger of Kirrahe. It was too much to ask for anyone to stay sane and whole in the line of such horrific tasks, and if he ever went back he was sure the Union – or the STG – would simply want him to do more unsavory things.

No, better he stayed away. It left him at peace, let him help those who needed it, and allowed him to pursue the kind of research he always wanted to do. At least, until today.

He grimaced as he stepped forward. The trip he'd just taken had been counter to the past decade of his life. The message he'd received from his sister had been more than urgent, it had been almost frightened sounding. The SIX were discussing something she desperately needed his advice on, and she all but begged him to return.

His sister's stiff pride would not have allowed such a thing unless the situation was ugly. And despite his misgivings, he knew he could not simply abandon his sister in such a thing. He'd been provided paid transport to the edges of the Traverse, stopping on the human mining world of Therum to transfer to a sleek, fast Union diplomatic shuttle. Expecting to head to Sur'kesh, he was unpleasantly surprised to instead land on the desolate moon orbiting the verdant world below.

The shuttle bay was built into said sterile rocky moon that orbited the world of Makana, and was liberally festooned with defenses and armaments. The only mass relay into the system was surrounded by dense belts of IFF antimatter mines, with a dreadnought standing off at long range with prepared firing solutions. Swarms of automated fighters tore silently through the dark, while powerful scanning equipment searched ceaselessly for any possible intruders.

Mordin took in the form of the STG officer in front of him, along with the two Shieldbreakers in matte black powered suits by the doorway. He frowned when he realized the STG officer was in a full containment suit, sans the helmet.

This did not look good. At all. He surreptitiously checked the hold-out pistols in his bracers as he folded his arms to regard the officer.

The officer, Lieutenant Tarola, gave a shallow nod of the head. "We have a briefing ready for you, if you would follow me. Hopefully this won't take much of your time and you can get back on station at Omega with a minimum of downtime."

The doctor frowned. "Relationship with STG informal – not assignment. Done with that now. Focus on healing, not espionage." He followed the younger salarian through a heavy armored portal, noticing the UV flash that sterilized the air before they entered.

Lieutenant Tarola shrugged. "I wasn't made aware of your particulars, Doctor. Only that you would be arriving to provide input on an important situation of the highest priority to the SIX." The lieutenant turned to the left, down a black-armored corridor. Automated flame turrets dotted every intersection and sprayers marked with printed warnings about basic chemicals and corrosion were every twenty feet.

Mordin glanced around, following calmly. "High level of disinfectants. UV cleansing." He took in the bulky frame of one of the air-vents. "DETA filtration. Fixed defenses. Ominous."

The lieutenant shook his head, touching one of his horns in a sign of apology. "Everything will be explained shortly, Doctor." Walking a few more minutes, they reached a heavily armored door and the lieutenant slid a key-card from his belt through. "In here, sir."

Mordin shrugged and stepped through into the room beyond, the door sliding shut behind him silently.

The room was fairly large, with an overhead vaulted armaglass window directly observing the planet Makana. Large holographic displays to either side reported the readiness of multiple combat units, several powerful nuclear devices, and a host of VI monitored anti-hacking baselines. The center of the room was dominated by a circular plinth, atop which a control panel of some kind curved, and a single chair.

The chair turned around to face Mordin, revealing the hooded, masked figure of a salarian of indeterminate sex. Silver cybernetic arms and legs gleamed under the dim lights as it gestured to a chair to one side.

"Sit, Operative. Information critical to the Union has been uncovered and you will provide clarification."

Mordin's voice was agitated as he sat, eyes glancing about. "Unexpected to meet STG Master here. Indicates much higher importance than indicated in message. Suspect was not sent by my sister at all."

The STG master inclined its head. "Correct. Apologies for the ruse, but we predicted you would resist otherwise. The alternative was forcible extraction. It was judged this would be a better utilization of resources and time. Cooperation is not optional."

The doctor's voice was wry sarcastic. "Typical. STG Master not known for random chats. Explain."

The master touched one of the controls on his panel, the far holoscreen blanking. "The human wildcat colony Freedom's Progress was recently depopulated. The Citadel is putting out a story that it was done by pirate elements from the Black Rim."

Solus nodded. "Had heard. Unlikely, Black Rim corsairs would not venture close to Aria's domain. Fabricated cover story...but for what? Systems Alliance action...no. Too broad. Biological plague? Illegal weapons testing?"

The master inclined its head again. "No, something more unusual. The entire population was simply gone, their extensive defenses bypassed. A Spectre in the area arrived on the world, only to find that the Butcher had landed and obtained … information the perpetrators behind the assault." It clicked a control, and grainy video displayed the scene of the Collectors landing and the swarm assault on the colony."

Fascinated, Mordin leaned forward. "Collectors. Much larger ship than scouting models used for trades. Not wearing robes – battle armor? Unusual for them to act so openly." He glanced at the STG Master. "Experiences with Collectors already documented – all knowledge was conveyed in reports."

The master shrugged. "The trade you conducted with the Collectors is not the only reason you are here, but it is one. For now, the SIX have deemed this a Collapse-Three threat. Collector hostility appears limited to human wildcat colonies. But STG elements were on-site in forensic analysis of the colony. Damage to several sections of the colony was done by way of super-heated, highly accelerated plasmatic slurry, similar in power and function to the weapon utilized by another ship."

Mordin frowned as the image of Nazara was flashed on the screen. "The geth flagship?"

The STG master inhaled sharply. "What you are about to hear is classified Black-Collapse-Nine." He folded his arms as Mordin's eyes widened as the highest classification level in the STG. "The ship you see here was not a geth flagship. It was an AI-controlled platform theorized to have been one of many like it responsible for the destruction of the Protheans, Inusannon, and many previous species."

Mordin was silent for several seconds. "Troubling implications. Collectors either in contact with or serving AI's?"

The hands of the STG master spread, tiny motors whirring. "Possibly. We are unsure. We are operating in a large information deficit. While we have an information source, we are unable to … confirm … what it says is true or false. And we have no way to insert observers into the situation as it develops. That is where you come in."

Mordin suppressed an irritated sigh. "Specialty in forward scientific deployment, medical and bio-warfare, not infiltration."

"Yes. However, the situation is complex... and may fit such specialities." The STG Master tapped another control, displaying a pair of humans in black coveralls and the chest armor of old Onyx suits, in the Lower Promenade of Omega near his clinic. "Station assets on Omega indicate these two have been asking questions about you. Intelligence is drawing a blank on the younger, darker woman, but the older woman we have identified as 'Rasa', a known agent of the Shadow Broker who defected to Cerberus."

Mordin inhaled sharply. "Cerberus destroyed. Or at least..."

The STG Master spread its hands. "The destruction was incomplete...and the Illusive Man provided much of the intelligence needed to destroy the organization. We suspect he was clearing the nest, and now there are faint signs the organization has returned, albeit with a different focus."

Mordin's frown faded, his tone thoughtful. "Cryptic. Why would Cerberus wish to contact me?"

The thin metal mask was featureless, but inclined a fraction of an inch. "We have reason to believe Cerberus is connected, on unknown levels, to the Butcher. And while some disagree, our own analysis of her actions indicates the Butcher seeks to oppose the taking of human colonies – and thus, the Collectors. She would require information on them, which is rare. Of those who have met with Collectors, the majority are either of dubious repute or beholden to … certain interests unlikely to be favorable to private contact."

The master tapped another control, displaying the paper Mordin had written about his contact with Collectors, trading genetic samples of the Collapse disease prion and possible treatment options for enhanced biotechnology to filter air. "You are the only well-known scientist to have worked with them. While we have no clear indication of motive or purpose, it is likely Cerberus is looking for you to provide them with assistance in dealing with the Collectors."

Mordin frowned. "Does not explain why I am _here_."

The master stood. "Actually it does. Ironically, the technology you obtained from the Collectors was put into use below, for the project here. You were briefed on the plant creature on Feros?"

Mordin nodded. "At the time, yes. Still have connections, found news of interest. Fascinating possibilities. Shame it was hostile."

The STG master gestured to the planet below. "We have found another. And it is cooperative. It claims it has knowledge of the Collectors and of the AI threat, but we are unable to verify what it says is true. You will communicate with it and learn what you can, cross-checking with your own data and experiences."

The STG Master turned to face him fully. "Once that is done, you will return to Omega. We have deliberately leaked the fact that you were recalled … and our assets picked up the following pair trailing you." Another image flashed up, that of a slender Asian male and a bulky black man.

Mordin's expression soured even further. "The Odd Couple. _Wonderful_." Why did sac-shit of this magnitude happen to him?

The STG Master's voice was neutral. "It is suspected that you will be intercepted when you land on Therum for the switch to a liner that heads to Omega. If they extend a job offer of some kind, take it. You will be acting in deep cover with no communications with STG forces – we will place evidence on file that you were unhelpful in our research and that your disagreement with your sister is more serious than it appears."

Mordin folded his arms. "Cerberus is extremely anti-alien, vague reports of working with Matriarch Trellani aside."

The Master shook his head. "They have apparently changed. Reports indicate at least two asari working for them – the Butcher being one of them – as well as an exiled quarian. And despite the risk of being exposed, they left the quarian team they found on Freedom's Progress alive, instead of killing them. The SIX – particularly your sister – are extremely loathe to place any trust into them … which is why this is not an official request."

Mordin examined the Master closely. "Why me?"

The Master shrugged. "You have detailed knowledge of the Collectors, and you are fully capable of assessing the threat Cerberus provides. Additionally, you remain, despite your age, one of our most powerful operatives. But mostly – Cerberus is interested in you. Despite the risk. We will never have a better chance to infiltrate Cerberus and get some idea of what they are up to."

The unisex figure made a gesture with one hand. "And there is no danger to the Union. As you are not an active agent and not authorized for back-channel contact, should this be a ruse, STG security remains safe. Your ocular security devices will be reactivated once you are done on Makana to prevent any … issues."

Mordin glared hard. "Served my time. Did distasteful, sickening things. On Verthos, on Tuchanka, on Dalrias. Told I was _done_. Not acceptable."

The Master leaned forward. "You do not understand, Doctor, what is at stake here. You have not been told the full truth of the Benezia Incident, but you will. Everything – all life in the galaxy – is at serious risk of annihilation. Compliance is not optional. You will serve, or you will be chipped, mentally adjusted, and serve anyway."

Solus leaned back. "Extreme sanction. Operating without permission from the SIX. Highly illegal and dangerous contact with known terrorist group. Do not see personal upside."

The Master exhaled. "I am willing to be extremely generous. Full access – once you are done – to STG databases. A guarantee you will never, for _any_ reason, be activated again. Paid consultancy fee of several million credits, cutting edge medical equipment to refit your free clinic on Omega, and a better assignment for your nephew. Further compensation can be negotiated upon mission completion."

Mordin hesitated. Truth be told, while he liked the easy nature and rewarding feeling of healing, Omega was getting almost boring. The Archangel had crushed so much of the filth once making the station a hellish place to live than he had only a few touch-and-go cases every week, instead of every day.

His assistant could run the clinic without his help, and being able to find out more about the Collectors – as well as talking to the tree-creature the Master had mentioned – were spiking his curiosity. And he was intrigued at the idea of actually speaking to the Illusive Man – a master hand in the shadows even the STG admired.

Despite himself, Mordin grimaced and nodded. "Will comply. For now. Explain situation involving AI's that is so critical."

The Master leaned forward. "The AI's are called … Reapers."

**O-TWCD-O**

Several hours later, clad in a multi-stage environmental suit and escorted by flamethrower carrying Shieldbreakers, Mordin entered the Preserve, the environment of the Makana Tho'ian. His mind was still racing from what he had learned, an unusual chill seeming to set into his body, despite the environmental systems of the suit.

The idea of a race of genocidal robot warforms with the power to obliterate entire galactic societies for millions of years was haunting. No wonder Saren and Benezia cooperated with them – probably hoping for some accommodation. He had seen Prothean and Inusannon ruins in his youth, and both races were theorized to be far more advanced than current galactic culture. If they had failed, then it was unlikely force of arms would solve their problems. Not that it ever did – it usually helped decide the fallout of a problem one way or another, but only after some other method solved it.

As usual, the salarian answer was to know the enemy first. Hence why the salarians, upon discovering the Tho'ian on Makana, had bargained with it instead of incinerating it. Placating its desires with captured vorcha slaves and data dumps, the Union had learned a great deal from the creature.

Makana was a lush jungle moon with an atmosphere so laden with carbon dioxide and other poisons that no life beyond plants had ever developed. Ancient stone ruins dotted the otherwise unbroken forests, gigantic and ominous even in their ruin, waxy black stone still immaculate after tens of thousands of years. From the intel file, Mordin knew the planet had been an ancient Tho'ian colony, destroyed well over a hundred thousand years ago by some sort of huge power plant explosion – it had been destroyed before the Reapers had destroyed the Tho'ians themselves.

The fact that the creature had survived a blast that wiped a third of the planet clean down to bedrock gave testament to its durability, if nothing else.

The salarians had isolated the Tho'ian, and created a space of some ten square miles, surrounded by a twenty-mile wide firebreak festooned with defenses, around its location. The entire area was covered in kinetic barriers and robots, walled off by ten-meter thick durasteel walls topped with flame units and lye sprayers. Within, five slender towers and a hab-dome took up a corner of the area, while the center was given over to the Tho'ian.

Mordin was fascinated as he approached, varying his attention between the briefing documentation he'd been given and the towering form before him. Supported by a delicate latticework of metallic spars hooked to sensors, the Tho'ian loomed six hundred feet high, with dozens of flesh pods dangling from tangles of rootlike limbs that burrowed into the ground. The vegetation itself was twisted into some kind of symbiosis with the giant tree-creature.

Hundreds of vorcha, shot through with greenish tendrils and with explosive collars around their necks, toiled endlessly around the ground – planting trees, operating machinery to keep the area cool, or building large, low plinths of black stone inset with growing tendrils. The briefing indicated these were some kind of Tho'ian computer, used by the creature to store information.

Mordin came to a stop at the marked area on the steel-plated road, heavy lines of red paint forming a box. As he did so, a single vorcha jerked slightly and approached, its eyes gone and replaced with slowly writhing masses of greenish moss.

The vorcha jerked again, before making a curious gesture with its arms. Its voice was low and rough, undercut with a wet, raspy gurgle. "Greetings, child of forgotten stardust. I am Two-Stars Binary Impulses. Welcome to my garden."

Mordin surveyed the vorcha briefly before staring up at the great tree, aware the vorcha was just a mouthpiece. He triggered the suit speaker. "Greetings, Great One. I am Healer-Scientist Mordin Solus. I have questions for you."

The vorcha twitched. "Solus. One of the ruling clans. Interesting. Normally only the wandering eye of your STG speaks to me. But no matter. I know much, provided you have the proper payment for my vast knowledge."

Mordin had been told the creature liked to barter for its knowledge and did not respond well to threats. Still, he had an idea, based on vague reports of what happened on another Tho'ian. "Understandable, but information required is to protect you."

The vorcha shivered, a tendril of green erupting from its mouth. "How … altruistic, child of stardust. Explain."

Solus triggered his omni-tool, sending the video images of the Collector attack on Freedom's Progress to the computers he was told allowed the creature to process visual images. "Collector attack on human wildcat colony. Suspected link to Reapers."

The great tree made a very low frequency booming noise somewhere within. Vorcha all across the area stiffened, as another vorcha – this one with eyes – was moved towards the video display, watching it carefully twice.

The speaking vorcha turned its empty, mossy gaze back to Mordin. "Your 'Collectors' are corrupted Protheans, child of stardust. The form has changed – the wings are new – but the four eyes, head shape and legs have not."

Mordin folded his arms, setting aside that stunning revelation for a moment. "Citadel agents reported Saren and Benezia slew one of your kind on Feros, and were working for the Reapers. Spectre Shepard submitted video that Collectors attacked and nearly destroyed another of your kind on Eingana. STG reports one dead on Minshim from similar weapons as deployed on Freedom's Progress. Hostility clear."

The vorcha's rough voice became somehow … smooth. "I see. The threat is subtle but of course, still there. Cooperate or perhaps you will rescind my protection?"

Mordin shook his head. "STG acknowledged your usefulness. Merely require information, but would appreciate you acting in self-preservation as opposed to further compensation."

The vorcha was quiet for a long moment before giving a jerky motion with its head. "Very well, child of stardust. There is little I can tell you that will be useful."

Mordin shrugged. "Any knowledge better than none. Details on swarm creatures and capabilities of Collectors most useful."

The vorcha spat. "The swarm in your image that subdued the colonists is a known weapon of the old Prothean Empire known as Servility Devices. They were originally used by the core Prothean species to subdue resisting or revolting subject races. They operate using a form of mechanically induced biotic manipulation, powered by ambient heat, to generate a stasis effect on the target. The second function injects powerful suppressants into the target system."

Mordin transmitted the files the STG had collated on the previous attacks on wildcat colonies. "Earliest attacks resulted in dead asari. Later attacks left asari alive, but with memories gone."

The vorcha paused, then spoke. "The Servility Devices were originally single target machines – they cannot be configured to subdue multiple races at one time. Secondary functions included a method to kill or incapacitate using injected venom., designed to disable or kill anything that does not fit the primary function's programming."

Mordin frowned. "Weaknesses?"

"They can be easily destroyed by conventional weaponry, although such masses would require area-effect explosions to take many of them out at once. They work poorly against beings augmented with cybernetic systems. A powerful biotic can block the effects of the stasis or keep them at bay for some time with a bubble field of biotic force."

Mordin nodded. "Capture of devices possible?"

"They can be deactivated with standard EMP, but have a tendency to self destruct once deactivated. Ironically, a biotic stasis on the device itself would be best. The workings of mechanically induced biotics were not something I understood – even our old allies the Inusannon could not use machines in such a fashion."

Mordin nodded. "And Reaper threat?"

The vorcha knelt. "As I informed your masters, I was obliterated before the Reapers attacked my own Empire. I was able to deploy a handful of thralls off world during the Prothean conflict, but my information is only conjectural. What I can tell you is that if they were the winners in a fight against the Tho'ian-Inusannon Alliance, they would wipe your pathetic species away in seconds."

The confines of the environmental suit felt tight. With a deep exhalation, Mordin nodded again. "Required information has been received. Informed you have standing request for more vorcha. Will attempt to convince superiors to comply."

The vorcha tilted its head. "Good, child of stardust. It is appreciated. One final … suggestion, if you will." The vorcha's mouth opened, teeth stained green and dripping with ichor of some kind as it hissed in what would be amusement for a normal vorcha. "The files you sent indicate that each of these colonies was attacked and subdued in short order, but that you can find no pattern. I can see one."

Mordin tapped his omni-tool "Listening."

The vorcha shambled over to a console, where another vorcha stood and began tapping controls. A green tinted holomap of the galaxy appeared. "The mass relays have several functions your species have not figured out yet. While we did not trust such devices – anything that makes light go faster cannot be natural or good to travel through – the Protheans had no such reluctance. There is a series of relay switches that allows for 'bounce' travel – rather than one relay to another, you can continue straight through several relays in a row without emerging in any but the last one. This function is only present in primary relays, and there is a limit to how far one can travel using this method."

Mordin's eyes widened at the strategic and economic potential, but the Tho'ian's thrall continued to speak. "However, doing so requires a powerful engine system and complicated software, as well as the correct knowledge to do so. Each one of these wildcat colonies hit is within striking distance of a relay that connects to the Omega 4 chainpoint. Based on that, only five of the remaining fifteen wildcat colonies are vulnerable."

Mordin's mind raced. Knowing future targets made it possible to set a trap – but the use of such a technology offered tremendous possibility. "Possible to replicate or use this technology?"

The vorcha hissed definite laughter this time. "Not for your level of technology. The buildup of gravitic forces without the proper manipulation would blow your ships apart after the first jump. I observed the Protheans using this method many times, but did not investigate – perhaps some surviving ruins or artifacts describe it more fully."

The calm voice of the STG master clicked across the comm system. "Extremely useful information, Two-Stars. You will be compensated thusly. Operative Solus, your exposure is at SF10. Return immediately for sterilization and debriefing."

Solus nodded. "Would like to return, talk history, bio-medicine."

The vorcha shambled back to its duties. "We shall see, child of stardust. Flower well and fully."

As Mordin walked away slowly, his comm implant clicked. "Now you begin to see the larger danger, Operative. You will comply...or shall I send for the obedience installation teams?"

The salarian doctor sighed. "Comply. I dislike coercion."

The master's voice was almost tinged with amusement. "As a being coerced since I first drew breath, Operative, I find myself lacking empathy for your situation. You will be briefed on current intelligence regarding the Butcher, Cerberus, the Illusive Man, the Collectors and the current theaters of operation once you have been through quarantine and sterilization. You will have at least another day to review all current intelligence on the situation and a preliminary briefing on the Butcher and our best guesses as to her identity."

Mordin sniffed, as he approached the main tramway leading away from the Preserve. "And then?"

"A leisurely trip back to Omega with stops at Dikana in the Silver Rim border, then Therum. There is a high probability you will be intercepted at the latter stop – if not, return to your clinic and await contact from Cerberus. If they fail to reach out to you within a month, we will communicate our reaction."

Mordin looked over his shoulder at the vast bulk of the Makana Tho'ian. "Difficult to explain source of knowledge regarding Collectors to Cerberus."

The voice of the STG master was definitely amused as he spoke, Mordin decided. "The chance that Cerberus is not aware we have a Tho'ian is … very low."

**O-TWCD-O**

Garrus looked out from the top of the refinery tanks, hidden from sight by shadows and his cloaking field, his hands caressing the lines of his super-heavy sniper rifle as he adjusted his position. Seconds passed slowly, his entire world narrowed to the slender view from his scope as he made a dozen minute adjustments.

His mandibles quivered slightly as he slowly exhaled, then pulled the trigger. The powerful round flew through the smoke and smog choked air of the lower Expanse, smashing into the temple of the human clone-legger a second later. The man's dusky skin was splashed with blood as his head turned into a fine pinkish mist and a few chunks of bone, before his shattered corpse tumbled from his balcony to fall almost ten stories to the filthy steel-plated decking below.

He came apart in a gory splash of bones, blood and torn clothing, screams ripping through the nearest bystanders, even as the small army of security he'd thought could protect him screamed orders and drew weapons.

Garrus hated anyone who would kidnap people for their organs. But cloneleggers – vicious, sick tork-shits who used genetypic manipulation to clone people and repeatedly harvest the clones for organs – were even worse. A flash clone's organs would decay too quickly to be of use, so cloneleggers used fully viable clones, grown in isolation tanks and minds chipped up to wander in a fantasy land as their meat bodies were butchered.

The filth he'd just executed had murdered over ten thousand clones – and the spirits only knew how many other people – over the years. He was rich enough to buy up enough security that he felt even the Archangel couldn't get him, and refused to leave the station, stating openly that if Archangel wanted him gone he could come and try to kill him.

And the moron was in literal walking distance of their hideout. Not that anyone knew that.

The turian smiled to himself. "Challenge accepted, sirefucker." He peered through the scope, making sure the target was truly down, then tapped the control on his omni-tool to detonate the palm-sized drone-mines Erash and Butler had managed to sneak into the security of the clonelegger.

Explosions rocked the Lower Expanse, blasting mercs off the heavily fortified top of the clonelegger's posh mansion tower. A single merc staggered out, blazing from head to toe in burning white phosphorous, screaming as he tripped and plunged off the edge of the tower to fall to his death far below.

Garrus amused himself by putting a pair of shots into the aircar the mercenary team leader was trying to leave in, snickering as the aircar spun out of control and smashed into a nearby building which he knew was a Blood Pack training station.

Doing a final sweep for targets, Garrus then tucked back further into the shadows, the only sign he was ever there was the slight wisp of friction smoke from the barrel of his weapon, which contracted as he put it away and began to move away from the top of the refinery tank to the rusty ladder running down one side.

The past few weeks had been drowned in blood.

After the stunt he'd pulled using the data gathered from the Shadows, the gangs on Omega (or the 'mercenary combat teams', as the Blue Suns styled themselves) had myriad reactions to the event. The Shadows pretty much ceased to exist – between the rampage of Archangel and less than ten minutes later, the arrival of a very pissed off krogan high on red dust, less than a dozen Shadows had survived the massacre at their headquarters. Those few unfortunates didn't even make it halfway to the docks before Angel's people took them out with a mix of booby traps, ambushes with hot-shotted shotguns, and the occasional sniper shot.

The formidable Mr. Hands managed to make it all the way to the docks, fighting most of the way, bleeding badly and somehow evading everything thrown at him – only to run smack into Aria herself, smiling and slowly unfurling the eezo whip Jona Sederis had given her as a sign of grudging respect.

Aria had only spoken coldly and said he'd violated Omega's first rule when his failures allowed for her defenses to be violated. As wounded and exhausted as he was, he couldn't even dodge as the whip lashed out.

The slender greenish wires had wrapped around the unfortunate salarian crime boss as Aria's smile only widened, even as the eezo whip activated. Held in place by a kinetic field as every part of his body was slowly consumed by warp-fire and torn inch by inch by conflicting and overlapping pulls and lift fields, Mr. Hands had died screaming before exploding in a wave of burning, smoking body parts and cyberware melted into slag.

Garrus didn't like Aria very much but there were times the old girl was beginning to grow on him.

Most of the lesser gangs had simply splintered – some fleeing Omega entirely, others throwing down their flags, sashes, scarves or whatever marks of identity they used and seeking the protection of larger gangs. While there would never be a shortage of datahax and hackers on the station, the Shadows had gathered up many of the best, and their messy demise in the course of one night left gangs and businesses scrambling to shore up their own defenses.

Sensat and the tech team had spent forty hours straight hacking, sleeping in shifts and abusing stimulants to get the best they could out of the window of weakness and opportunity. While Garrus rested and Angel made calls to the few people he could trust on the station, the rest of the team scouted locations and prepared for the inevitable backlash.

Garrus grimaced as he climbed down the refinery tanks. Angel was right, retribution would be coming. They had broken most of the power of Omega's gangs over the people and shattered the worst of the 'businesses' operating out of the station. Spirits, even legit businesses were starting to trade here. But that didn't mean Aria was happy about it, and rumors were flying that she'd told the gangs that if they thought they could kill Archangel, they could certainly try.

And that was dangerous. While the attack they'd pulled off by hacking Aria's own defenses and turning them against the gangs and slavers had been devastating, it didn't do much to deplete the forces of the so-called Big Three – Eclipse, Blue Suns, and the Blood Pack. Each of them reacted slightly differently. They still each had hundreds of soldiers on the base and millions of credits worth of equipment, not even counting off-Omega assets they could bring in.

Each one had reacted differently to Aria's suggestion.

The most striking result was that of Eclipse. Jaroth and the number three in the gang, an asari known to the public as Relli's Kiss, had a nearly-lethal fight, resulting in Jaroth and a small number of Eclipse sisters leaving the station to head to, if rumors were correct, Tuchanka, where Jona Sederis had setup shop.

Part of Garrus was disappointed that Jaroth got away, but only a part of him he'd rather not think about. For the co-leader of a group like Eclipse, Jaroth was (mostly) sane and fairly reasonable, if one overlooked the fact he willingly slept with a lunatic like Jona. Jaroth was, of course, still evil slime – he engaged in and pursued the expansion of Eclipse into sex slavery, selling sentient beings for food, and drugs. But he seemed to draw the line at enslaving children or preying on the truly down and out – not that he was a good person, but he was at least a little less revolting than most of Omega's inhabitants.

Since Eclipse had been 'shut down' and 'founded' over fifty times in the past thousand years by Jona Sederis and whoever she was sleeping with, splinterings like this were hardly uncommon. The only branch of Eclipse that had survived all that time was the one siding with Jona, but as Jona was gone from Omega there was lots of talk that Relli's Kiss would take control of the larger part of Eclipse operations – maybe even challenge Jona herself.

As Garrus finished coming down off the tower, he moved quickly and quietly into the abandoned clutter of yet another eezo refinery. He picked out a segment of the wall near the edge of the district and slid along it until he found a narrow gap, barely wide enough for him and the suit.

As he slipped past, coming down in a short hop that landed on top of a second refinery tower, he almost wished he could see her try to take out Jona, if only to see just how fast, how painfully, and in how many pieces the Relli's Kiss would die.

As for the Blood Pack, the death of Garm turned out to be less of a blow than Garrus had hoped. The new leader of the Blood Pack, one of Garm's many sons named Durm, was a lot more troublesome, going so far as to call for the Blue Suns and Eclipse to sit with him in a Crush to figure out how to rid themselves of the danger of Archangel. Since Garm had boasted he would kill the turian himself, Durm's approach shocked many. Durm's response was distressingly sensible: "Vengeance tastes better than honor". Durm was flooding the streets with packs of tracking varren and vorcha, hoping to pick up a trace of some kind of scent.

Given that Garrus and Angel had taken precautions against any sort of thing happening from the very first, Garrus shook his head at the stupidity of the tactic, but it meant nothing could be left to chance. Even the slightest wound could leave a trail, forcing Garrus to increasingly sideline the rest of the team from anything approaching battle.

The cowardly leader of the Blue Suns, Vido Santiago, had fled the station months ago, and his second in command, Tarek, decided to take control of things locally. The Suns were bringing in heavy ordinance – heavy mechs, gunships, and lots of off-world Legionaries well equipped with heavy weapons. Holed up in their tower in the Black Walk, they were far too close to the center of Aria's power to even think about taking out with a direct assault.

Garrus was the most worried about Tarek. Relli's Kiss was a lunatic so blown on red sand that she couldn't live without a medical respirator, and Durm, while smarter than his father and more willing to work with others, was still a berzerker with the tactical skill of a rabid dog.

Tarek, on the other hand, was cunning and smart, and had eluded every attempt to take him out that Garrus had made.

Coming down from the second refinery tower, Garrus walked along the rusted, battered lattice of support catwalks high above the main industrial districts of Omega. The old asteroid was simply riddled with abandoned mines, service tunnels, and older abandoned sections given over to vorcha or worse. By the simple expedient of utilizing such areas cloaked, he could move about sight unseen right under the noses of both Aria's greensuits and the gangs.

Still, mobility wouldn't help them. Erash had heard enough captured comms to determine that the Blue Suns hackers were relentless in trying eventually pinpoint their location, and that the Blue Suns had brought in expensive forensic equipment from off-station. Eventually they would localize a scent, or a tell from the suit, and then the varren of the Blood Pack would start to hunt.

It might take days or weeks, but it would happen. All they could do now was prepare.

They had fortified the warehouse as much as possible, but the ugly reality was they would be trapped with no real way out if its location was ever revealed. They'd dug in and reinforced the walls, planted heavy accelerator turrets and stockpiled as many missile launchers as they could. The best they could hope for was a direct assault across the main bridge – a killing zone that could only be bypassed through the air.

Operating a gunship in the tight environs of the warehouse's area would leave it unable to use its maneuverability to avoid counter-fire. They could withstand one, possibly two such attacks.

Of course, if the gangs ever found their escape tunnel, they'd be trapped with no way out. But Garrus was confident that wouldn't happen. The best case scenario they had was being pinned, leaving a handful of mechs to keep up the impression of someone staying behind to fight, and fleeing. Reaching the end of the escape tunnel would give them a chance to make it to the shuttles they'd stashed. If they could get off station and out of the system...

He shook his head. He knew already there was no getting out for him. He'd buy time and keep the gangs focused on him while the rest of the team got away and restarted their lives, and blow up the warehouse around his enemies when they finally defeated him, killing them with him.

Then he could rest.

Garrus triggered the flight system on the armor, jetting down almost a hundred feet to a lower catwalk and frowning inside the heavy armor. Angel had repeatedly warned Garrus he was getting carried away with his assault on the gangs. He was, after all, not invincible. The SkyTalon's flight and stealth ability made him dangerous, especially when striking from stealth or in close quarters. But enough firepower would blow the shields and the armor itself, while very tough, was not immune to damage – especially against high-impact armor piercing rounds.

But the rest of the team had no such protection. And Garrus was beginning to realize his tactic of doing all the heavy lifting (and killing) was only going to make things worse for the rest of the team when it came time for them all to fight. While most of them could certainly fight if they had to, only a few – Vortash, Butler and Montague – were truly hardened killers. Melenis hated combat, Mierin and Sidonis were okay soldiers but hardly truly experienced, and Krul – while fierce – was not really a stellar combatant.

Angel could also hold his own – he'd done so long before Garrus had arrived, after all – but against the kind of tark-shit the Blood Pack and the Blue Suns would be throwing, even he wouldn't last long. So their last stand wouldn't be much of one – mostly Garrus blunting their assault and buying time for the rest to flee. There was no guarantee they would be able to do so successfully.

Most frustrating of all, even after wrecking the Shadow Broker's operatives and operations for weeks, Garrus had no leads and no real clues to follow. The Broker was reeling on both Omega and on Ilium, but the few rumors he'd been able to get a hold of seemed to believe the Broker was pulling out of the Traverse somewhat.

The data the Wind Runners had in their ship indicated the Broker was funding wet-work teams to try to go after Archangel, but they didn't have any clue as to who he was or where he was operating from. Even so, even a few such teams, working alongside the Blood Pack and Blue Suns, would turn the situation very ugly – and if he was sending independent assassins, it was unlikely he would ever find out more about he Broker from Omega.

Garrus sighed, clambering down a narrow access tunnel towards the abandoned mining galleries just below Niftu District. He checked to make sure he'd not been seen or followed, then walked down fifty feet of ruined tunnel toward a dead-end cutaway where mining power systems had once stood.

He didn't have any choices, though. He'd been able to survive and vent his rage on Omega only because Angel had saved him. And while he felt he'd done a lot of good here none of it made up for Telanya's death. Angel had warned him at the outset it was a stupid idea.

Even if he could talk the rest of the group into continuing to go after the Broker, where would they go? Archangel's group was only able to remain hidden on Omega due to a fluke and careful hacking, and (as Angel suspected increasingly) possible favors from the STG due to Erash. But getting out of Aria's empire in shuttles would be hard enough. They would have to abandon most of the loot and cash they'd made, and while Garrus had made sure everyone squirreled away credits in their own private accounts and they could carry a few things, they'd be starting from scratch.

No, it was best everyone went their own way and got away clean. If he somehow survived this mess, he'd go to Ilium and see if the Sisters of Vengeance needed a good killing machine. And if he didn't...

Revenge was beginning to turn to despair, and he often wondered if he was being a fool. His mother was slowly dying, her condition made worse by thinking he was dead. His sister – who knew if she was happy or not?

He sighed, and reached the end of the long cutaway. Carefully concealed in the cutaway was a cleverly hinged sliding door, leading into the lower tunnels below the warehouse Angel and the team had taken over from the weapons smuggler whose crashed ship had provided the suit Garrus now wore.

He pushed the panel open, grimacing as it resisted before swinging wide, and stepped through into the blackness beyond. He shut it behind him, sealing off the last of the light, and turned on the suit's low-light mode before moving deeper into the cramped tunnels they'd created leading to the base proper.

He had to see if the rest of the group had any better ideas.


	15. Arc II: Old Allies, New Threats

_**A/N**:  
_

_So...as it turns out, I had more than a few dental adventures. Also, tax issues, my mom's chemo bill and repairs to my car kept me working a lot longer than expected. I had enough time this weekend to scrape this chapter together.  
_

_I'm very grateful to Liethr and the rest of the Editing Gang who helped this chapter come together. Before they went over it, it was a lot more disjointed in places. _

_The next chapter starts adding more people directly to the team. Reviews are always welcome. _

* * *

_'The true danger of so-called 'pragmatic politics' - better known as tyranny - is that one loses sight of decency in the name of expediency. Moral relativism is an oxymoron, yet one embraced by every being who ever thought evil means justified noble ends, and only to late realized evil can only lead to further evil. '  
_

_\- Admiral Charles Pressly, 'At the Right Hand of Justice'  
_

* * *

Shepard waited impatiently in the shuttle bay of her base as the sleek looking pinnace slowly came to a halt, the landing gear sliding across the floor with the barest whisper of friction. She suppressed her impulse to smile slightly at the sight of the batarian-styled ship, as she always found it slightly strange the leader of Cerberus would be flying around in a non-human pinnace. She had to admit it was certainly a top of the line craft, but still…

She'd been awoken to discover that the Illusive Man and Trellani were coming in person. As Miranda so elegantly put it, they were here to 'discuss some issues about our next actions'. As she folded her arms, she gave that wording a bit of thought.

She wasn't sure if she liked the idea that TIM expected direct control of her actions. It wasn't simply a matter of trust, more of a matter of her intent to keep her actions highly separate from the rest of Cerberus even if it was on the up and up.

The fact that – so far – he'd provided her with the tools and the talent to get what had to be done accomplished was great and all, but didn't square anything in her mind about what else Cerberus could be up to. And while she certainly felt the Collectors were a huge threat and something had to be done about the crazies in the SA, she was still dubious about the fact that a guy who thought killing off the Pope was appropriate to be the one calling the shots in any endeavor.

Unfortunately, as she'd quietly discussed with Tali and Sedanya, she didn't have a lot of options. The Council was going to be stupid about things and she couldn't trust the SA in the slightest. The STG would more than likely dissect her to figure out how she worked and no one else would listen to her or believe her. Even if they did, they wouldn't just hand her everything she needed to go after the Broker.

She watched the pinnace doors split open and swing down, forming a walkway ramp, and the inner doors slide apart to reveal the Illusive Man's patrician features. He stepped down from the pinnace with his usual poise, dressed in a dark black suit with a collarless shirt, set off by gold cufflinks bearing the Cerberus insignia.

She rolled her eyes as she stepped forward, noting Trellani following him, wearing her usual black gown with a reddish-orange scarf and a small Cerberus pin.

She felt into place besides them as they began to walk. "Got your message. I'm guessing it isn't you dropping in for coffee."

He gave her a thin smile, the glowing circles of his eyes rotating a moment as he gazed at her. "No, unfortunately not. I dislike being away from my own sphere of operations for a long period of time, but I've come into new intelligence that I feel a need to discuss with you. And Trellani has an item you will find of great use, as well as the training to make use of it."

Trellani gave a single nod, her hands full of a long black case.

Shepard shrugged. "You know the place as well as I do. Let's head to operations. I have no idea why you gave me an office, but we might as well use that."

The walk to the elevator was short, as Harper didn't deign to glance around, and Trellani was reviewing something on an info-pad. Shepard figured if the stuff Harper wanted to talk about was so important he couldn't – or wouldn't – even trust it to his fancy-ass QEC comms network, it must be pretty important indeed.

As they reached the elevator, she tapped the panel, then turned. "You have any more leads on Collectors? Or any of these people you want me to work with, like Archangel?"

Harper shook his head as he got into the elevator, followed by Matriarch Trellani. "Unfortunately, no. There have been no further attacks on colonies yet – although this is not surprising. We had a series of surveillance ships on point at several mass relays in the region – some of which would have been required to traverse between Freedom's Progress and Omega."

He dipped a hand into his pocket, coming out with a silvery cigarette case and a lighter. His expression tightened. "They did not see any such Collector vessels at any time, leading me to believe the Collectors may have the same sort of 'jump' capability as Nazara possessed."

Shepard winced. "Fuck, that's just great. Any chance the Council or SA has stepped up trying to secure the colonies?"

He lit the Compineros cigarette in his hand and gave a wry smile. "By now you are familiar enough with the goals of the Citadel Council to answer your own question. Aside from deploying some STG teams and two Spectres - who are wasting time going after you instead of the Collectors - they haven't taken any action at this time. The Alliance is considering making an offer of support to at least Horizon, but most of the rest are not economically worth the time or trouble – and politically sensitive at best. And the political issues are why Cerberus is being forced to act."

She shrugged. "Because the Council is stupid?"

He actually chuckled. "Not really, from their perspective. The Alliance has no real vested interest in wildcat colonies – they only allowed them to begin with as slender cover for corporations to conduct less than ethical research and to clear out malcontents from other established colonies. The Council is unlikely to react to a situation involving human colonies until the Alliance does, and when they do they will undoubtedly do so in an attempt to rein in human growth and power."

He puffed on his cigarette. "And the Council has a long history of refusing to escalate events when they're unsure of the end results. The Collectors are advanced and dangerous – I suspect as long as they limit their actions to the Traverse the Council will do nothing directly."

She nodded slowly, and he continued. "The curious thing is that the wildcat colonies outside of the Traverse – such as the handful in the edges of the Black Rim, or the trio in the Volian Traverse, haven't been hit at all. Some of my analysts think the Collectors might have a maximum range for their little jump tricks to work, but we have nothing but supposition at this point, and no way to clarify further without another attack. My own supposition is that they are keeping things in the Attican Traverse because they know full well no one will react to those disappearances."

He exhaled smoke. "As for the search for finding you some additional personnel...that's part of what I need to speak to you about." He glanced up as the elevator chimed and the doors opened out into the operations area.

She nodded, leading them both to her office. Sitting down at her desk, she leaned back in the comfortable mesh chair and exhaled. "Alright, I figure it probably isn't the safest thing to have you running about, so what is so important it couldn't be handled via QEC?"

Harper sat down across from her, while Trellani simply leaned against the wall, along with the case she carried. The man's voice was a touch exasperated as he spoke. "We suffered a penetration of one of the tertiary cells providing funding for Project Revenant. I've got my people cleaning it up now, but the long and short of it is that whoever did so now knows Cerberus spent billions on something involving construction and aerospace assets, as well as biotic, bio-medical and cybernetic research. I'm going to have to actually shutter one of my front companies and eat the losses. Which also means I have to restructure several other elements."

She shrugged. "And...?"

Harper took another puff of his cigarette. "It is a troubling development, as it means the trail leading to you and your location is in possible danger. Remember, this base is not self sufficient, and requires funds, supplies, eezo, and parts. If the support companies are compromised, so is my ability to assist you." He inhaled on his cigarette again.

"From all the indications, the penetration was most likely accomplished by the Broker's people. He's definitely sniffing, which I find curious, as up until now most of Cerberus' activities have been economic and not impinging on his own domains. While the loss of the cell itself is irritating, I've had to waste time moving funds and evacuating other cells, which has – at least in the short term – crimped some of our finances. It's going to take some time to straighten that out, and I'm going to have to be very careful that all links to this location are actually purged."

She nodded slowly. "You think the Broker connected the dots between you and me? That fast?"

Harper's eyes narrowed. "It is very likely, considering that the Council was able to do so. We're not prepared to have your true identity revealed, and we can't afford for the Broker to figure it out and poison the Council against us before our preparations are completed. For now, just to be sure, I've deactivated all QEC links to here except the one from my own HQ, and all comms will now route through there instead of any other methods. I'd also strongly recommend not deploying any further ships except the Normandy SR2 under full stealth for the time being. At least some of the data taken would have let him know what we were working on involved asteroid construction in the Traverse."

His voice grew somewhat quieter. "My larger concern is that the method used to penetrate the security around the funding cell may have compromised the other operations the cell was funding – namely, searching for Archangel and the Sisters of Vengeance. The cell was not isolated properly in terms of how it was investing and interacting with another cell, and the Broker's hacker was clever enough to delete all of the information from our own servers, leaving us unsure all of what was accessed."

She winced, and he tapped his ashes into the ashtray on the corner of her desk. "More importantly, some of my deepest-cover assets on Omega and Ilium suggest that we may not have much more time to locate either of them. The largest gang elements on Omega – the Blue Suns, Eclipse and the Blood Pack – have decided to unite forces to try to hunt down and kill Archangel once and for all. Until now they've been fighting among themselves – and trying to undermine Aria – almost as much as they've gone after him, but now the gloves are coming off. His recent actions have simply pushed them too far, and Aria isn't going to stop them. Unless he goes to ground, they'll ferret him out sooner or later, and we still have had no luck in establishing contact."

He inhaled on his cigarette again. "The situation with the Sisters of Vengeance is also becoming delicate. They haven't taken any actions in the past few weeks, and my operators on the planet have confirmed the Broker is eventually going to send Tetrimus after them. I'm not sure how good they are but I have severe doubts that they can handle a direct assault if it comes to that. Unfortunately, we still have made little to no headway in reaching out to them either."

He leaned back. "In both cases, you may be required to move in and rescue them after those going after them have localized them for us. So you'll need to wrap up your business with Warden Kuril to obtain Jack as quickly as possible and be in a position to react."

She sighed. "And I still need to deal with Okeer. Fuck. Alright." She pinched the bridge of her nose, thinking. "I'll have to keep a low profile for now, and be ready to move at any moment. I'm headed out to Dirth today, to meet with Pressly. Miranda told me there's someone else you want me to meet while I'm there."

Harper nodded. "There is. Our most deeply placed … informant, so to speak, has come across some startling information you need to know. He's recently been reassigned to a rather delicate assignment, and so you'll have to go to him. Once you have the information he's obtained, I'll leave it up to you on how to proceed with it. My main concern is that this informant will be an instrumental part of re-introducing you to the Alliance and the Council once the proper moment has been reached."

She huffed. "Fine. Then what?"

He tapped his ashes again. "I would suggest picking up Jack from Warden Kuril's station, as the good warden has informed us that our price to release her to our custody is acceptable. Mr. Massani will be ready for pickup early next week, taking him along to meet with Kuril might provide us with some useful intelligence. Ms. Goto has found out some troubling information involving a person of interest on Bekenstein, but Trellani will be the one to handle that. She should be done by the time you can pick her up on your way from Purgatory to Korlus."

He scrubbed out the cigarette. "Once you localize and deal with Okeer – however you see fit – I would wait to take any further actions until we can either establish contact with Dr. Solus, or until we get an alert about the Sisters or Archangel. Given that we don't have any methods to deal with these paralyzing swarms of the Collectors, obtaining a research source for those would be the next highest priority."

Shepard rubbed her eyes tiredly. "That's a lot of things to do in a pretty short timeframe. What are you doing?"

He glanced at Trellani briefly before speaking. "Reorganizing financial assets, directing the search and intelligence efforts into locating Archangel and the Sisters of Vengeance, and fending off attempts by both Hades and the Broker to penetrate my networks further. The reach of Cerberus is still sharply limited, as we are rather light on personnel still. The largest part of our power is actually under your command at the current time."

She snorted. "You expect me to _believe_ that?"

He gave a shrug. "I expect you to believe that I have no real need or use for military power or equipment, as my goals for the most part cannot be achieved by violence or direct action. There is a time and place for such things, and I do have my own assets along those lines, but they are sharply limited for a reason. I prefer to cut, when I must, with the precision of a scalpel – not the sort of blunt mayhem generated by the resources I have allocated you."

He leaned back in his chair. "And given that my own predilections for resources run to economic and intelligence assets, you should be able to figure out I have not given you any level of either. Without eezo, cash, and fresh intelligence feeds, there is not a lot you can do – nor do you or anyone currently on this base know my own current headquarters location or anything about my other assets."

She sat back herself, scowling as she absorbed this information. "Whatever. Just don't think I plan on trusting you unconditionally anytime soon, Jack. I'm working with you because you're the only game in town, but that doesn't mean I'm going to think left to your own devices you won't get up to something."

He inclined his head. "Be that as it may...I would suggest we each operate in our own spheres and that you can at least trust I am less morally compromised than, say, the Systems Alliance?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shit, that's a low fucking bar to hit." She glanced over to Trellani. "You had something you wanted to give me or show me?"

The asari matriarch nodded, the serene smile on her face just a little too wide for Shepard's taste. Trellani usually looked normal enough, but there was an edge to her voice and a hint of something in her eyes that always worried Shepard.

"Yes, there is. A little of both. Perhaps it is merely my own wish to befoul as many of the so-called 'traditions' of the Temple of Athame as possible, but there is one final tool I think you will find useful in your quest, especially if you must fight Tetrimus."

She moved to pick up the case she'd brought on board, setting it down on Shepard's empty desk a moment later and popping the small electronic latches on the sides. It opened to reveal a scabbarded warp sword, the blade almost straight, the hilt heavily curved and the cross piece made of some blackened metal.

Trellani plucked it out of the case, drawing the blade slowly. The blade itself was also black metal, with harsh, angular elder asari sigils stamped deeply down the middle of the blade.

"An associate of Jack's obtained a minor amount of a fragment of the hull material from the wreckage of Nazara. It was used in various experiments to attempt to find possible weapons to use against the Reapers, when they arrive, and it was discovered that most of our current armaments are pitifully inadequate. In particular, mass accelerators are the worst possible weapon to use, as the material is extremely stable in its kinetic aspect."

She placed the tip of the weapon on the floor. "After the testing was done, destructive heating was attempted. As it turns out, the only thing that can deform the metal is a super-condensed plasma forge using mass effect fields to compress and intensify gravitic effects. As this is the same method used in creating both Silaris armor and several other asari arts, it was decided to see if we could actually do anything with the material. As it turns out, working the Reaper hull material is expensive and highly difficult, but we were able to use it to make several useful items."

Harper spoke up. "Mostly armor suits for some of my more … aggressive employees."

Trellani continued. "What was left was not enough for any other use, so I made use of it to fashion an asari warp sword, mostly to see if the metal could actually be turned to such a purpose. I will admit to a certain … ironic symbolism in attempting such. The eezo chamber of the weapon had to be made larger than usual, giving it a stronger warp effect, although it is more draining than a normal warp sword to use by a fair margin. It is also far heavier than a normal warp sword, but that will not affect you given your enhanced strength."

With a slight grimace the matriarch focused, lifting the blade, which sprang into flickering blue flames along the serrated edge. A moment later they snuffed out, and she placed the weapon back into its sheathe.

"I would like to train you on how to utilize this weapon, and draw forth the fire. As you well know, no asari has ever handed over the knowledge of how to use such things to non-asari, and typically only members of the Thirty – "she hesitated, gritting her teeth, then smiling savagely – "...may they all die in flames and agony...and a few of the most favored of the Clans are taught how to use them."

Shepard stared at the sword a long moment. "You made a warp sword out of Reaper scrap?" She shook her head. "Ahern was trying to break me of my up-close fighting style, and I've never done that much armed CQB."

Trellani shrugged. "As with the invocations I showed you, I can pass the knowledge along. Sparring will take some time, to familiarize you with the weapon. You do not need the skill of a vishan blade-mistress, merely the ability to use it in any fashion, to truly cement the idea that the Butcher must be an asari."

She held the sword out. "Additionally, Tetrimus is an extremely powerful biotic, and engaging him at range is the very worst sort of idea. His nickname of the Dagger comes from a powerful evocation he has developed that cannot be blocked or stopped and only dodged if you see it coming, a literal fatal-in-one-strike power called the Beam. From the reports we got from our agents on Omega, this was the power that ended the life of your friend Shields."

Shepard winced, and the asari continued. "He can only utilize it at long range – and if he does so you will most likely be dead. Up close you have more chances to overwhelm him, and a warp sword is powerful enough that he must devote a large portion of his power to blocking it."

Shepard shrugged and took the thing, frowning at the weight a bit. "Like I said, I was planning on heading out to Dirth today..."

Trellani glanced at Harper, who shrugged. "One day will not make that much of a difference in the timeline of your other plans, but a day of training will give you enough of the basics to use this weapon effectively."

Shepard sighed and nodded, tapping her desk comm. "Miranda, please let Chief Haln know we'll be headed out tomorrow morning. I have something I need to handle today, it looks like."

Miranda's voice was clipped but not harsh. "Understood, Shepard. That may be for the best anyway, the man's cyberware is not of the highest quality, and the medical team would like to refit some of the spinal mods and the cybernetic arm at the least."

Shepard nodded to herself. "Very well. Shepard out." She glanced up. "Should I have her prepare you two some place to stay?"

The Illusive Man shook his head. "That will not be necessary. The matriarch has some things to attend to once she's done with you. She'll need to borrow a shuttle and head to Purgatory Station to handle the business aspects of Jack's transfer, and then move onto Bekenstein to assist Ms. Goto with her own issue. I'll depart now and return to my own operational facility... I still have work to do."

She shrugged. "You'll pardon me if I don't feel the need to walk you back, then. This knowledge-meld bullshit gives me a terrible headache, and I'd rather get it over with as quick as possible."

Trellani nodded. "Very understandable. If you will give Jack and I a few moments, I will meet you in the base armory level to begin."

Shepard stood up, and exited her offices. As the doors shut, Harper glanced around and smiled. "While you are here, get the reports from Ms. Chambers on how things are progressing, and make sure Mr. Ezno is on-pace to finish clearing any final links to us from the systems here. Miranda's reports have been very positive so far, but I'd like confirmation of those from an independant source."

She nodded. "I shall. I will also speak with Shepard myself, and see if I cannot get a better idea of her mindset. As for the situation on Bekenstein, what do I do if Ms. Goto's little situation on there is too dangerous to complete by myself?"

Harper smiled. "Kai and Pel are occupied, but Brooks and Rasa are free."

Trellani grimaced. "I'd almost rather listen to Minsta than those two."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard's training with Trellani was useful in one thing – realizing how easily Benezia could have murdered her on the Citadel. She'd known warp swords were dangerous but slicing through inches of reinforced steel like cotton candy was an eye-opening experience.

Asari warp sword-dancing was far different than human swordsmanship. A warp sword would cut through almost anything used to block it aside from another warp sword, and even then it depended on who had the greater biotic strength. Trellani demonstrated a number of moves, each one which incorporated using biotics to maneuver the body.

Sword-dancing was less about slashing or thrusting the blade and more about shifting one's own body or center of gravity, and about oblique angles and generating an opening for a separate biotic attack. Trellani guided Shepard through the most basic forms, before pulling out a pair of metal rods that acted as sparring weapons and taking her through a full attack and defense routine.

Shepard's reflexes, thanks to the integration of her cybernetic limbs with her eyes and gyroscopes, were advanced enough that no normal asari would even have a chance at landing a straight blow on Shepard. Combined with the stances and with judicious use of her superior speed, Trellani felt Shepard could dominate most warp swords users who weren't blade mistresses or war priestesses.

They sparred for several hours, pausing to eat lunch and let Trellani recover slightly. The matriarch had swapped her flowing gown and shawl for a plain silvery jumpsuit, and as she ate a light meal in the base mess decks, Shepard found herself curious about the asari.

"Still not understanding why exactly an asari would hook up with goddamned Cerberus."

Trellani elegantly sliced apart a piece of fish into small cubes, putting one into her mouth and chewing calmly, pausing to swallow before speaking. "Jack is not the monster you seem to think he is. But the answer to your question should be, with reflection, obvious."

Shepard arched an eyebrow.

"As I once told the good doctor Minsta...who else would join a group of terrorists aside from yet another terrorist?"

Shepard frowned. "I'm not sure I follow that."

Trellani smiled, sipping some water. "Cerberus, at its core, is an ideal and an idea. The concept that humanity has always defined its own course, and that if humanity is to prosper in the future alongside other Citadel races, it cannot do so from a submissive, supplicated position. The plight of the quarians and the krogan – and the fate of the rachni – are simply another data point alongside what humanity endured during your First Contact War when it comes to how the Citadel – or should I say, the asari and salarians – view other species."

She cut another piece of fish. "In order to do that, as outlined in Jack's manifesto, there must be a group willing to stand watch against those who would seek to enforce such sublimation on humanity. Without such, subtle actions would and will reduce your race's independence in a short amount of time to nothing at all."

Eating the slice of fish, she chewed, then smiled. "And there is little difference in that and what the Thirty have done to my own people."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "So … you just decided this one day?"

The matriarch leaned back slightly, shaking her head. "For me, I came across certain things in my studies that revealed to me issues with the Church of Athame, and with the so-called 'holy nature' of the Thirty. Until that point I was as zealous – maybe more so – as any other asari about the unity of our people. When I learned these truths, I realized we had been deceived. My people have been used, abused, and lied to – and those who are responsible for such have not even the shallow and cruel excuses your Alliance does of survival for such acts. They merely crave power and dominance."

Shepard nodded. "The Council of Bitchriarchs didn't strike me as very, ah, humble. Or looking out for anyone's best interests but their own, given how they treated Liara." Her jaw tightened at the name of her wife, and Trellani nodded.

"Indeed. The leaders of asari society have their reasons for acting how they do. And in doing so, they have crippled and damaged asari society for … millennia. They have caused the deaths of tens of thousands or more asari in their squabbles, and they are, I am convinced, hiding information from the galaxy at large regarding a great number of things."

Trellani sighed. "When I uncovered what I did, I attempted to obtain an explanation. I ended up having to battle my own superior, Benezia. And when I fled, trying to warn my family and friends of the danger, I found I was too late. T'Armal had my entire family brutally murdered, my acolytes tortured to death, my bondmate executed, and then sent both ardat-yakshi and Broker assassins after me. They broadcast lies about me to the Asari Republic and made me into a galactic criminal."

Shepard winced. "And so you ran to Cerberus?"

Trellani shook her head, eating a few more pieces of fish before speaking. "No. I knew Jack Harper – our business ventures intersected in a few places, before I was cast out, and I did a fair amount of business with Cord-Hislop. But at the time I had no idea Jack was the Illusive Man. No, I fled first into the Traverse, attempting to deal with Aria. When that did not go exactly how I planned, I gave serious thought to attempting to give what I knew to the salarians, when a Broker wet-work team lead by Tazzik found me."

Shepard remembered Tazzik from the fight on the Citadel. "Ouch."

Trellani gave a thin smile. "I was unable to defeat him. The few acolytes I still had who'd fled with me were massacred, and I was forced to flee before him. I would have met my end there if not for the intercession of Cerberus. They didn't attack him to save me, however they did attack him for their own reasons, and I was able to escape in the crossfire."

She laughed. "At the time I found it deliciously ironic. Now I wonder if it was the calm tides of fate."

She sipped her water again. "Later on, I was being hunted on Bekenstein by the Broker as well as Justicars when Jack saved my life. He was initially … quite skeptical of some of my claims, but once he was able to verify them, what assets and information sources I had gave Cerberus its first real penetration not only into the asari but certain salarian circles as well. I was a useful partner from a business and intelligence standpoint."

Shepard leaned back. "And the fact that Cerberus was cutting up asari?"

Trellani gave her a cold smile. "If Cerberus put every member of the Thirty to the sword, I could care less. I am not childish enough to think that morality or ethics has any place in this debased society dancing in orbit around the clash of asari and salarian, of dalatrass against matriarch. My own people have cursed me and hounded me. My own people would rather, for the most part, believe in lies and allow themselves to be used rather than face ugly and hard truths."

She wiped her hands. "As far as I am concerned, the only asari worth saving at this point are the ones currently residing in the Alliance. You of all people should understand, given how they treated your wife while she lived among them. Benezia was not unkind, and if she would act in that fashion, you can only imagine the sort of willful ignorance a salt-crested bitch like Thana T'Armal would endorse."

Shepard frowned. "It's just..." She shook her head. "A lot of what Cerberus was up to when I shut it down was sickening. It was the groundwork for this NOVENSILES garbage or ways to kill off large numbers of aliens at once. If the Thirty are bad, I can get that – some of the High Lords of Sol, at least the ones involved in this mess, are probably bad apples too."

She placed her hands on the table. "That's not tantamount to me writing off all of humanity as a lost cause and being cool with cutting them up for science experiments."

Trellani shook her head. "I have done much, much worse than that, Shepard. As I said, Jack is no monster. He will not shy away from what must be done, but it is not out of cruelty. And he has a fault of becoming too ensconced in his maneuverings in the economic and intelligence arenas to keep a good eye on other projects. It has burned him before."

She shifted in her seat. "I, on the other hand, have lost so much that I see no reason in pretending to care any longer. If people live or die, if people suffer, if worlds are wrecked or atrocities committed … I cannot find it in myself to be affected."

The purple eyes narrowed. "When you have watched your own family killed in horrible ways, thinking that you somehow betrayed them, watching the light die in their eyes and feeling your bonds snap like brittle bones, siari is no comfort. When your lover gasps her last in a froth of blood, and is tortured to death, simply to make a point, you lose sight of the fact that revenge is 'wrong'."

Trellani smiled. "As I once told another person questioning my motives...morals get in the way of vengeance. I want the Thirty to die, slowly and painfully. I want them to suffer, to watch their lies come apart in the tides and disintegrate. I want their perfect little cities to burn, their filthy estates to be smashed into gravel. I want to see their despair as their bond-mates die, as their children are put to the warp-sword, as everything they built turns into ash."

The mellow voice hardened. "And if I have to kill a million souls to get there, or commit atrocity upon atrocity to see it happen? Your people have the most wonderfully ironic idiom to cover that scenario. One cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs."

The sheer hate and vitriol in the slender matriarch's voice sent a shiver down Shepard's artificial spine, and she thought a few seconds on that. "If you kill people who had nothing to do with your suffering, just to get at the bastards who did, how are you any better than the Thirty you hate so much?"

Trellani laughed, a cold sound. "Oh, Shepard. It is … lightening and somehow wholesome to see that even with all that has been taken from you – your wife, your home, your childhood, your society, even your very life – you still retain that iron core of fundamental _decency_. It is one reason why Jack chose this unlikely project, this returning you to the shores of life. He said that you would prevent Cerberus from becoming that which it shouldn't. That you would always do the right thing because you wouldn't let yourself do the wrong thing."

The matriarch stood, wiping her mouth. "I am not as strong as you, young human. I am far, far worse than the Thirty – and I no longer care if I am worse than they, because when it is over they will be rotting meat and I will use their ashes to fertilize my rosebushes."

She smiled. "Enough of this. Let us finish our practice so that you have time to rest before you set out tomorrow."

Shepard stood up too, draining her coffee before setting the cup down on the metal table. "Why are you teaching me all this? The restricted biotics, the sword dancing. Is it just to piss off the Thirty, to thumb your nose at them?"

Trellani paused. "Partially, which may seem immature to you but remains highly satisfying to me. But more importantly..." She made a gesture of siari separation. "...there is a certain satisfaction in knowing that you are likely to be the instrument of the Broker's destruction. I would love to kill that being or those beings myself. But if that is not to be, I want the knowledge of knowing my teachings were useful in bringing the Broker down."

Shepard could only nod at that. "That's not an if, but a when. I'm killing that fucker, whoever or whatever he is, if it's the last goddamned thing I do."

Trellani smiled. "And now you know how I feel about the Thirty. Let us train you further, so that hopefully it will not be the last thing you do."

**O-TWCD-O**

The next morning, the Normandy launched from the base, making its way to the Verthas trade lane. Shepard drank coffee and grimaced at the galaxy map.

The worst thing about being a cyborg, she mused, was that when you didn't get a good night's sleep you still looked as if you had even if you didn't feel that way. She glanced down Ops Alley, noting the stations manned by a pair of Vigil-driven robots, and then sighed.

"Hey, Vigil."

The silvery sphere snapped into existence next to her a second after she spoke, its voice as sharp as ever. "Yes, Shepard?"

She eyed the thing. "What happened to primitive? And what are you up to?"

The sphere rippled as it floated above the navplot. "I prefer to use that appellation more on those who ask me _stupid_ things. You are usually not in the habit of such. I was focused on preparing the set of runtimes I will be dispatching to ensure you are not detected by any security apparatus on Dirth."

She nodded, sipping at the coffee. "I have a question, which I doubt is stupid. You've complained before that the Protheans didn't listen to your advice, and that is what got them all killed. What should I be doing that I'm not?"

The sphere pulsed, a more serious tone entering its voice. "At this point, there is little you can do except gather evidence and information to make your leadership listen to you and I." It paused. "I would suggest that you move as quickly as possible to ascertain exactly what the Collectors are up to. The fact that I still have not localized any incoming Reaper transphotonic signatures is baffling. They usually react very rapidly and directly to the destruction of their sentinel Reaper."

She nodded slowly. "You said there was something in the Citadel – another AI, more powerful than you that took out Nazara. Perhaps they are scared of that?"

Vigil floated over towards the science station. "Perhaps, although unlikely. To borrow your colorful parlance, I have no fucking idea what that thing was, and I find myself less and less inclined to investigate the more I cogitate on the matter."

Shepard quirked her lips. "Starting to rub off on you, hmm?"

Vigil floated over to her shoulder. "That is somewhat by design. The Inusannon felt it would be best if I absorbed some of the cultural and infomemetic natures of my users, and I am designed to acclimate and adapt to those around me over time. The Protheans had a fixation on being 'superior' to the rest of the associated servitor races in their empire – the 'primitive' epithet I use so freely was the favored saying of your predecessor among the Protheans, Javik."

She arched an eyebrow as she felt the ship shudder with a mass relay translation. "I'm guessing he died in the fighting – that is, he wasn't one of the ones in suspended animation on Ilos?"

Vigil pulsed. "I am not sure. He was instrumental to the war effort, but at the end the Protheans moved him away from Ilos. His ship was overtaken by indoctrinated spies and his crew and mate were certainly killed by the indoctrinated hordes but he was still fighting when Ilos lost contact with the rest of the Empire, so it is unlikely he was sent back to Ilos to be placed in suspended animation.."

The AI's voice lowered. "He was very irritating...but a strong fighter, and he did not give into despair until he had lost almost everything. I am almost hoping he died fighting – most of the caches of Prothean soldiers placed into stasis outside of Ilos were discovered and converted by the Reapers."

She grimaced. "Yeah." She glanced at the status repeater, then tapped her commlink. "Chief Haln, ETA to the Dirth system is roughly one hour. I'm going to get changed, meet me in the hangar bay in forty-five."

Haln's gravelly voice answered back. "Yes, ma'am. Should I go armed?"

She snorted. "Not necessary. My main concern is getting down there without being noticed, as Dirth is the place I'm most likely to be recognized. Miranda has an idea for a disguise, but weapons would draw more attention than we need."

"Understood, ma'am."

She clicked off, glancing back at Vigil. "I presume you'll be handling getting me past whatever customs there are?"

The sphere gave a wobble and what sounded like a snort of laughter. "You have to ask?"

**O-TWCD-O**

The shuttle ride down to the surface of Dirth was a mix of nostalgic and depressing for Shepard.

The world had recovered nicely from the batarian raid against it, the scars of the invasion long since healed. Wearing a respiration mask and in somewhat baggy spacer clothing, Shepard pulled up her omni-tool and tapped a command into it. Her hair slowly began to lighten in color a few moments later, shifting from black to brownish red and finally lightening to blond after about thirty seconds.

Haln watched this with amusement. "That's a neat trick."

She snorted. "Well, it isn't really hair. Miranda tried to explain it, something to do with hue-shifting nanites or some shit. All I know it saves me some time and the pain of dyeing it." She pulled out a pair of light-suppressive goggles and put them over her eyes, and grimaced. "So you know the story?"

He nodded. "You have second stage Rorgal's disease with the associated lung scarring. You're here to see a local specialist since Benson doesn't have any doctors with the proper equipment. I'm your fiance." The last was said dryly enough that Shepard chuckled.

"Blame Miranda for the cover story. Then again, she probably has some experience in sneaking around, so I'll go with her recommendations. Anyway, we're coming up on the spaceport now. Hopefully this will go quickly."

They broke through the cloud layer and descended rapidly through sparse air traffic to touch down at Victory Spaceport. Shepard remembered this place as a war-zone, burning and filled with terrified civilians, as she and the rest of her unit had fought to block the batarians from reaching them.

She arched an eyebrow at the large white statue in front of the spaceport, that of a female in heavy armor with a shotgun standing in front of a pair of children. She swallowed, and exhaled sharply. Dirth, at least, had never been a place that had made her feel hated or unwelcome after she had saved them, but giant statues of her were always a bit much.

They landed without further incident, disembarking at a slow pace and making their way to the primary docking customs station. Shepard adjusted the fit of her facial mask, the combination of it and the goggles obscuring most of her features, while Matt handed the tired looking woman at the customs station their forged SA travel visas and citizenship chits.

The woman was in her late thirties, with pale gray eyes setting off her darker skin tone and braided hair. She glanced over them and tapped the scanner console, nodding a moment later. "Welcome to Dirth, Mr. Jones, Ms. Intes. The hospital district is reachable by ground-car directly, there is a travel service in the main concourse that can take you to Shepard Memorial Hospital. Do you have anything besides the handbags to declare?"

Haln shook his head, holding up the small cooler he held in the other hand. "Not really, just a few beers we bought on the station. We'll only be here for the day, once we've seen the doctor and visited a local friend we'll be headed back to Benson."

The woman ran her omni-tool over the cooler, and then slid the travel passes through her computer and nodded. "Then have a pleasant visit."

Haln picked up both sets of bags and set off towards the main concourse, Shepard trailing and glancing around. There were hardly any people in the spaceport, hardly surprising given the fact it was ten in the morning and most commercial or freight traffic did business at the orbital station. She waited until they were out of earshot and then spoke softly. "That went … smoothly."

Haln nodded. "Yeah it did. Just how powerful is Vigil, if he can hack the SA's customs databases like that?"

Shepard shrugged. "I … really try not to think about it, Matt. TIM says Vigil is more dangerous that it lets on – certainly what little I've seen terrifies the fuck out of me. I watched it literally hack the entire galactic transmission network when I sent out my Butcher messages...that took it less than a minute."

The taller marine shook his head. "I see now why in the little briefing Ms. Lawson gave us she told us to be polite to the thing at all times." He stepped through the double doors into the concourse, finding the nearest travel stand and moving towards it.

Fifteen minutes later, they were heading south along the main traffic corridor of the city, turning slightly west as they descended. Most of Hennson City, the capital of Dirth, was rebuilt heavily since she'd been here. The refurbished colony modules and boxy plascrete buildings she remembered were mostly gone, replaced by slender towers and long rows of low-slung permacrete and armaplast single-family dwellings.

The aircar dipped out of the traffic pattern to slowly glide towards a seven story tower, touching down lightly on the landing area set to one side. Trees and a flower park flanked the entrance to the tower, along with a pair of security mechs.

Haln stepped out of the air car, and Shepard followed, pushing her hair out of her face and glancing around. She glanced over at the marine. "Lead the way, I guess. Here's hoping this goes well."

He nodded, walking towards the tower. She tapped her commlink. "Vigil, we'll need access to this tower – there's a security mech service and key-card entry, looks like."

A short pause and then Vigil spoke. "Done. I've also gone over the video logs at the spaceport and scrubbed the entries of your hiring the aircar. The security is very light...and by that I mean pitiful and about as effective as small children yelling 'go away' at me."

She shrugged and clicked off as they approached the tower door. Haln glanced at the bots, who simply waved them through. Shepard smirked as the doors slid open and they entered the tower's lobby. The lobby was laid out simply : an information and news station linked to SA-EIGHT, the official SA alert and news network, some benches, a pair of small restaurants tucked off on either side of the main bank of elevators, and some office space – doctors, attorneys and the like.

She glanced at Haln. "What now? I've never actually been in one of these colony towers before."

He looked surprised, but nodded at the elevator. "He's on the fifth floor. Most towers like this have a single floor of mixed use offices and four or five floors of apartments – usually either ten, six, or four to a floor, depending on the sizes."

He tapped the elevator button and the doors to the left-most elevator cab slid open, and the two of them got in. As they closed and the elevator began to ascend, Shepard gave a small shrug. "Yeah, I grew up on Earth, so I'm used to habblocks and row houses in the NYARC. I get what this place is supposed to be, it's just a little different than what I'm used to."

The brown-haired chief nodded. "Well, Pressly lives here by himself. His son and his son's wife live a floor down from him, and I think they help out with groceries and the like. Half the ops techs from the Normandy died, a couple who were off-shift when we got hit visit from time to time, and a few of his friends from his last command as well. That's … really about it, except us marines who see him when we swing through."

The big man shifted his stance as the elevator came to a halt. "I got two uncles who live here, so I swung by when I could. Money is tight, unfortunately. Or it was." He gave a smile. "Your, uh, group pays extremely well, about five times what the SA paid me."

Shepard arched an eyebrow but nodded. "They're a bit … extravagant. They had wood floors in a place they woke me up at that they planned to blow up from the beginning. Wasteful, but hey – it's his money."

Haln took the lead, walking past several metallic doors set into the narrow hallway until he reached one with the name 'PRESSLY 050232' stenciled neatly to one side by the data slot. He tabbed the haptic comm panel below that. "Say, Charles, you in? It's Matt Haln."

The panel lit up a second later, Pressly's voice sounding weaker than Shepard remembered. "Hello, Matt. Door's open. Didn't expect you to swing by."

Haln opened it, stepping in, and Shepard followed. The room inside was decent sized, twenty feet square, with wide windows overlooking the city on the far wall. A comfortable sectional couch took up one corner, crosswise from a haptic entertainment console with bookshelves flanking it on the other. Doors in each of the side walls were ajar, and the third corner of the room had a cut-way to a small kitchenette and dining area.

The walls were textured in pale silver paneling and a shadow box of medals and awards hung above the couch. Sitting in a lift chair next to the couch was Charles Pressly, his head still shaven. Some of the man's muscular bulk was gone, his face lined with several fading scars and one eye covered with a simple black eye patch. His right arm was occupied with a data-slate, while his left was a fairly low quality cybernetic conversion that started at his elbow.

He glanced up from the slate, his one remaining eye tired looking, and flicked his gaze over Shepard without recognizing her before moving back to Haln. "You're looking good. Matt. I'm afraid I don't know your friend..."

Haln placed the cooler down on the table, opening the top and extracting a beer. He tossed one to Pressly, who caught it with the cybernetic arm without difficulty. "Eh, you should probably have that first, old man."

Pressly arched his eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Shepard chuckled, tapping her omni-tool Her hair darkened back to its original shade even as she pulled off the mask and sunglasses. "Hello, Charles."

Pressly took a long look at her before popping the tab of the beer and drinking heavily.

**O-TWCD-O**

"...that...is a pretty hard tale to take in and believe...ma'am. I'm going to have to ask how I'm supposed to verify you are who you say you are. You could be a clone conditioned to believe things, someone surgically altered to look like Shepard, or … hell, I don't know. Anything but a dead woman come back to life. What is the proof?"

Haln shrugged. "Y'know, most of the rest of the marine team had their doubts too. We already interrogated her for a good three hours when she showed herself to us. There's also the fact that that Joker and Tali were there, as well as Doctor Sedanya, and all of them vouched for her. Also, Vega thought up the idea of pulling up a piece of Prothean text online that had been translated to English, and having her translate it for us on the spot without access to her omni. It's her."

Shepard shrugged. "Look, I didn't believe this bullshit when I first woke up from whatever the fuck they did to bring me back either. But to answer your question, Sedanya says I'm not a clone. I don't get most of the science myself, but I kept the scans she did on me on my omni if you want a look."

Pressly sipped the second beer he'd opened and gave her a long thoughtful look. "...no, that won't be necessary, ma'am." He sighed. "I suppose I should be happier about this, it's just a shock to take in. It … upends a lot of my beliefs. The Church says death is the final transition."

Shepard examined her artificial hands and smiled thinly. "I can't answer that question. I remember sitting there with that last cup of decent coffee in the cockpit, going to my quarters, the ship blowing up, getting you guys into a pod, and fucking dying. The last thing I saw in my mind was Liara...and then I'm waking up in a fancy-ass hospital room." She met the man's remaining eye squarely. "I'm still not handling it well myself, but I can't afford to go to pieces until I get the fuckers who killed Liara and my friends, and stop the Collectors."

She exhaled. "After that...I don't know. Maybe I'll go talk to the Pope or something."

Pressly's face tightened as she mentioned the death of Liara and the rest. "...I see. I don't know what to think... but I don't really think it matters right now. Like you said, you have more important things to be worried about." He tilted his head. "Which makes me ask why you're here, ma'am."

She gave him a long look. "I'm .. .well, before we get into that - Pressly, what happened to you?"

He gave a cough. "Politics happened, mostly. After the Normandy went down and you were declared dead, I was in the hospital a long time. By the time they stabilized me and I was conscious again, the events on Omega had already gone down and General von Grath cashiered out. The SA Admiralty Board called me and a few others up to get an idea of what happened to the Normandy at a formal inquest."

Haln sneered. "A witch hunt more like it."

Pressly nodded, his expression grim. "They came to the conclusion that the Normandy's stealth system had to be sabotaged by someone on board at the time. That put severe doubts on the reliability of the crew. Additionally, since I was on watch when the Normandy was hit, they decided it was my fault the ship was not prepared for combat."

Shepard spat. "What kind of fucking shit was that? I'd stepped away three goddamned minutes. There wasn't even fucking space dust in that system when I left the cockpit. Stupid desk-driving morons, they wouldn't know a threat if it jumped down their throats."

He smiled, the first real smile she'd seen out of him. "Maybe it is you." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Bottom line was that they told me I would sign off on a report taking responsibility and identifying the attackers as geth."

She lowered her eyebrows in a thunderously angry expression. "And if you didn't?"

He sighed. "What you see here. My citizenship was reduced to tier II. I didn't qualify for cybernetic corrective therapy for my spinal damage, leg damage, and only the lowest quality arm replacement. I was officially discharged in 'other than honorable' conditions and my pension eliminated. On the other hand, if I signed, they would have paid for everything, I'd have been promoted quietly and shuffled off to some post on Earth."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "So why didn't you sign, aside from the fact that you knew it wasn't the geth?"

He sighed. "Because it wasn't the truth, ma'am. Because if I did, and took responsibility for it, there's no telling what else they could have forced me to sign. Because signing it would have been the same as saying my ops team fell down on the job and would have gotten them all dishonorable discharges. But most of all..."

He met her stare. "Ma'am, at the time, the only thing I could think of was that if it wasn't the geth and they were demanding we say it was them, instead of investigating the real issues and how the Normandy could have been detected, that meant the SA knew exactly who had killed us. I thought it was possible the SA had set us up to die and I wasn't going to play along. They were pretty upset about that...it got my son in trouble and he had to not reenlist. But I wasn't going to lie for them."

She nodded, and placed her hand on his still broad shoulder. "I'm glad you did the right thing, Charles, although I'm really sorry it cost you." She exhaled. "In a way, though, I'm almost relieved the SA continues its usual way of acting like a dick, since it makes it easier for me to ask you what I need help with."

She pursed her lips. "I need you as my XO again. I have a talented … well, person – but she's not a good XO in a lot of ways. She's trying to wear too many hats at once – medical specialist, liaison to the person behind my resurrection, base executive officer, ship's XO, personal assistant, intelligence coordinator – and she's flailing a bit. I need you there to pick up the details I miss on."

Pressly gestured at his body. "I'm more than a little busted up for that kind of work."

Shepard snorted. "That's why I want you to come. We have top flight cybernetic surgeons and state of the art medical facilities...shit, most of me is silver now."

Haln nodded. "They fixed up the problems I had with my cyberarm in about two hours, and upgraded the entire spinal package to a point where I can't even feel it anymore. I feel like I did before I got hurt. They fixed up Emilo's cybernetic leg as well, the one he spent so much money trying to make work right that never would."

Pressly sat there for long seconds, pausing to finish the second beer and motioning to Haln for a third. He opened it, face pensive, before looking up at Shepard.

"You said you work … with … Cerberus. That the people with you work for you and only you. What are you going to do if Cerberus turns out to be as bad as it was when we took it out last time?"

She smirked. "Laugh my ass off and kill them all again. I don't trust Harper, and after a long talk with Trellani I am convinced that bitch is every bit as crazy and dangerous as Jona Sederis. If they try to get me to go along with anything I don't like I'm gone, and I've made that as clear as possible." She paused. "To be fair … Tali and Joker have been with them two years and haven't seen anything they saw as shady."

Pressly grimaced. "But there could be atrocity and we wouldn't even know about it." He sipped at the beer. "Matt, I take it you and the rest of the marine team signed on? What do you think?"

Haln sipped his own beer, sitting on one of Pressly's couches. "I think that Broker fuck needs a bullet in his head and these bug things need a shot of RAID. If the Boss Lady says we work with these Cerberus pukes, we do. The ones I've seen back at Shepard's base are pretty straightforward, if a bit … uh... augmented?"

Shepard raised an eyebrow and Haln coughed. "Ezno and Taylor look like Mr. Universe contestants, and that Lawson lady...you can't expect me to believe that shit's natural."

Shepard burst out laughing.

**O-TWCD-O**

Pressly agreed to go along, and Matt stayed behind to help him pack a few things. Pressly would need to talk to his son about being gone for a bit, and Shepard left him to come up with the cover story he'd be using while she set out to head to meet the informant Harper mentioned.

The drive in the aircar was relatively short, and the location described was an older industrial building on the outskirts of the city. She got out of the air-car cautiously, but the area was pretty much deserted, and the only entrance into the building – a heavily reinforced durasteel door in an equally outsized and armored frame – was the only way in.

Making sure her disguise was back in place she walked to the door, which slid open at her approach. She stepped into a long, narrow room, the door closing behind her. The walls and ceiling were brushed steel, while the floor was heavy rubber squares meshed together. A single security camera swiveled to towards her, then the door in the far side of the room opened.

She frowned and stepped through this second door, coming out into a much larger room. Various haptic monitors and view-screens occluded the walls, along with a massive map of Dirth's continents, while a blade rack of servers hummed quietly to one side. Doors led off from the main room, most of them shut, but at least one was ajar, revealing yet more computer equipment. Just based on what she could see, whoever was here could monitor activity and communications over most of the planet.

A long, low-slung table dominated the room, and sitting on the edge was the thick form of Commandant Dravus Chisholm, his peaked cap set on the table next to him and his expression set into a smirk.

Shepard froze, and the Commandant chuckled. "I'm guessing you weren't expecting to see me, Shepard? Not surprising. It would have been very poor operational security for Harper to give you any information about me prior to you getting here without problems. Welcome to the Commissariat monitoring station for Dirth." He spread his arms in a grand fashion. "You might as well lose the disguise."

She paused, then pulled off her mask and goggles. "It wasn't my idea, I assure you. Haven't seen or heard of you much since Noveria. And here I thought Commissars were supposed to be incorruptible."

His smirk twisted, as he lit his customary cigar. "Nonsense. Nothing is _immune_ to entropy. Granted, the new batch of Commissars, the chipped up ones they brainwash from the time we kidnap them off the streets, they're pretty much incorruptible. But even they break down over time, and more than a few go bad. You just never hear about it because we police our own."

He gestured to himself. "Us older types get by with a cortex bomb and hypnotic conditioning, which Cerberus broke a while back. It isn't easy, and it requires a lot of juggling to keep it from being detected, but so far I've pulled it off."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't get me wrong, Shepard. I'm still loyal to the SA. I dislike criminals every bit as much as I did before. I don't do this out of enforced loyalty, but because it needs to be done. I just don't happen to think the current leaders – or the plans they have – are in the best interest of the SA. Rourke would be appalled at what they plan, and I'm not the only Commissar who isn't happy about what's going down, the few of us who actually know. It's why de la Muerte went out of his way to cover you when you made your little side trip during your honeymoon."

She winced. "He knew? About me going after Kyle's information?"

He shrugged. "He suspected, let's say, that you knew something. His hands were mostly tied, and he was busy trying to ferret out saboteurs in Fourth Fleet. But he made sure that the Commissars assigned to you were sympathetic, personally trained by him, and kept most of the Commissariat from keeping close tabs on you like they normally would to any former Z2." Puffing on the cigar, he smiled. " For now, though, we have bigger problems." He exhaled. "You know President Windsor was forced from power, along with most of his cabinet, correct?"

She nodded. "Some bullshit about Eliza being his daughter...and misappropriation of funds. I didn't bother reading up on it since it happened only a few months after I … died." She shrugged. "I mean, I feel sorry for the guy, but as far back as Noveria I knew he was playing a little fast and loose with the rules. I figured some of what he approved for me or had me given authority over was … not quite according to the regs."

Chisholm tapped ashes from his cigar on the floor, smearing them with a heavy boot. "True enough. That was the core of some of the charges against him, at least publicly. He was basically breaking the law when he set you up as his personal operative. Spectres are not supposed to be accountable to government officials in that capacity, and certainly giving you private AIS forces, legal arrest powers, and the rest of the things he had planned if you had not died were ... not even of dubious legality. His forced rerouting of ships to your battle group rankled more than a few naval officers, and there was a strong undercurrent of outrage at BuPers - and some Commissars - when he allowed two aliens to simply assume commissions as Lieutenant Commanders on the Kazan."

He grunted, puffing on the cigar. "But honestly? It's all bullshit. Sure it was not legal, but what should have happened was him getting his hand spanked. Instead, his enemies used that as an opening, and then made up a ton of additional, fabricated evidence for worse crimes, such as embezzlement and the like, related to his eventual plans for you."

She frowned. "I was dead - why bother?"

He gestured with the cigar. "Because, I suspect, Windsor wasn't playing the game he was told to play. He'd already tumbled to some things being off in the Alliance, and after you brought him bits of information and Harper fed him some more, he was going to put a stop to it. He'd planned to set you up as his personal agent in that regard, blow some things wide open, and maybe get enough blackmail material to force whatever the Manswells and the Chus were cooking up into the open. He made a good stab at keeping his intentions quiet, but he wasn't careful enough, and when his people got caught snooping, I think someone in the High Lords finally figured out what his plan was."

He sighed. "Instead of being able to deploy you, he got injured in the assassination attempt. That meant he had no control over you, and allowed someone in the SA - supposedly that slime Saracino - to send you off after the geth. I'm not sure if the SA knew you'd get killed out there, or just wanted you out of the way, but I suspect the latter. When you got killed, he had no weapons to use against them, and they had him where they wanted him."

He puffed on the cigar again. "It was pretty ugly. Accusations came from all directions, AIS, Commissars, Navy, and the Senate. Not only that - from what little I know, his own father and his brother sold him down the river. They framed him for quite a bit of things, but the truth about Eliza was that she really was his illegitimate daughter – and the mother was a Williams. The High Lords really didn't like that."

Shepard sighed. "Ouch."

The Commandant nodded. "Eliza wasn't actually killed in the attack, but was damn near dead and would need some really expensive therapy to survive. And as it happened, she was basically in the hands of the Manswells. From what I can determine, they met with him in the hospital and forced him to admit to guilt, and exiled him to Dirth. As long as he kept quiet, they'd fix Eliza up and let her live with him. That let them put Huerta into power. And Huerta, well..."

He dumped his ashes. "Let's just say the gray-box the man has is remotely editable by certain parties, and that a side effect of his surgery means they had plenty of opportunity to implant more than a few post-hypnotic suggestions."

Shepard grimaced. "So they directly control the President. Fuck."

Chisholm nodded. "Yeah. For the moment, the Manswells are pretty much pulling all the strings, sight unseen. They've got Windsor under tight isolation surveillance, to make sure he doesn't talk, along with cortex bombs in him and Eliza. It took me a while to maneuver myself around, but eventually I was put in charge of his security, and got a chance to talk to him."

The Commandant leaned forward. "The thing is, whoever put the hit on Windsor used some assets of a group Manswell put together called Hades. From what I can tell, publicly Hades is just another racist follow-on to the old Cerberus, but privately it's where they've stashed Richard Williams. He's working on something in the Black Sector that even Commissars aren't cleared to see. My information suggests Williams had the assassination on Windsor done himself, rather than on some orders of the Manswells."

She frowned. "Why?"

He half turned, picking up a haptic scroll-sheet, a disposable plastic flimsy with pre-programmed graphics burned into it. "I suspect it happened after Richard did some thinking. The cover identity he is currently using is that of a distant fourth son of Maxwell's nephew, one Richard Manswell. It's airtight, and … well, this hit the newsies this morning."

She took it, reading.

_'HUERTA NOT SEEKING REELECTION – TAPPING NEW PARTNER, RICHARD MANSWELL, AS ALLIANCE BLUE CANDIDATE.'_

She cursed. "Oh, what the fuck..." She glanced up.

Chisholm smiled. "There are very special laws on the books when any of the High Lords or their houses takes the Presidency, but even more special laws if a Manswell does so. It gives him a fair bit more power than the average standing President...and he retains immunity to prosecution by the Commissariat. We have no way to stop whatever he's up to."

He puffed on his cigar again, dumping the ashes and chuckling. "It's a clever idea. Everyone thinks Williams died not long after the First Contact War, and those who knew he survived assumed he died with the rest of Cerberus. The plastic surgery is very good and the identity is heavily backstopped with enough references no one will question it."

She folded her arms. "Harper thinks Williams was working with Reaper tech. He could be fucking indoctrinated. Almost certainly any of his people are."

The Commandant chucked again. "There's a good possibility of that. We'd erected some of the sensors the Citadel people came up with to detect indoctrinated people, but one of the first things he did was have them removed from the Alliance Governance Complex, saying if they had never detected any indoctrinated people in the previous two years they weren't worth the high expense to run. Already he's being hailed as just what the Alliance needs – people love the Manswells, and with his size and looks he comes off as some kind of god-emperor."

Shepard sighed in disgust. "And there's no way to prove he set it up. Fuck. The Alliance is not going to be welcoming to my resurrection, then."

Chisholm shook his head. "Probably not." He stood up. "I doubt Harper has pieced this together – Richard Manswell, aside from the size, looks nothing like Richard Williams – they even altered his voice. But the threat is real, and it's getting worse. For him to openly pursue power in this fashion means whatever plans he has in motion must be getting close to a phase where he can start enacting them." He grimaced. "Given what little I know of those plans, that's not good for anyone."

She nodded. "Yeah, well. I don't suppose there's any chance I could see the … Mr. Windsor?"

He shook his head. "Not anytime soon. Security is stupidly tight, and even with me being in charge there's too many other Commissars and lancers around that might start something."

She nodded. "Can you request commissars for your staff? I'm worried about the ones assigned to me and Liara."

Chisholm rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. "Jiong is stuck with that Delacor guy. D'Alte was hurt pretty badly, got close to being recycled, I think. I'll see what I can do for her, but obviously I can't tell either of them you're still alive."

She nodded. "I know. I just … they were some of the few friends I had, and I want to make sure they'll be okay." She sighed, pushing her hair back a bit. "Is there anything else?"

The big Commandant shook his head, puffing on the cigar again. "Not really. I wanted to make sure you and Harper were aware of this threat, because it's going to be a lot harder getting you clean with the Alliance with that asshole in charge, and it puts a crimp in the stated plans Harper has told me about so far."

She grimaced. "Yeah, well...I'm starting to think maybe the Illusive Man has a damned point about ever trusting the SA, even though I hate the very idea he might be right." She tossed the scroll-sheet back to the big man. "Thanks for the heads up."

He tucked it away, nodding. "I've used my authority to make sure you are clear to get back to the spaceport, but don't hang around very long. Security looks lax, but there's backstopped hard-line security cams and sensor nets leading to the Commissariat base in Ninteh City, and I don't have authority over those."

She smiled. "I'll be careful."

He tapped his omni-tool and the doors slid open. "Then go with the grace of our Father. And it is good to see you once more."

She left the building, getting back into the aircar, and then hit her commlink. "Vigil, are Haln and Pressly back at the shuttle yet?"

The sphere's voice was quiet. "Yes."

"Prep for immediate departure and get the Normandy to pick us up ASAP, I've got some really fucking bad news for TIM."


	16. Arc II: Purgatory

_**A/N**:  
_

_12k words in a day. This one's for you, Nemrut. :D  
_

_This is likely to be a controversial chapter, not in the least because some people have identified my TIM with Good Guy Greg for some reason that I had to correct. I look forward to feedback._

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. _

* * *

_'Ultimately, evil is rarely found in the intentions one puts forth. It evolves through acts, through roads best left untravelled, through intentions that start off noble and fall by the waysides of expediency, fear, and doubt. As the ancient poem goes, no tragedy stalks about in dramatic black robes, seeking out souls to trouble - it is all to often sought out by the acts of those whose grasp exceeds their vision.'  
_

_Matriarch Benezia T'Soni, 'No Single Raindrop Blames Itself For The Flood'_

* * *

Tela Vasir wasn't a big fan of human ship design. Everything was too boxy, with too many straight lines. There were no curves, no softness, nothing to gentle the impact of being in a vacuum in a machine environment that could go south at any given moment. Humans had a fixation on hard forms and straight lines, as if artificial order could protect them from the entropy of deep space.

Childish, really. But then again, they _were_ very much like children in many ways.

They did make comfy chairs, though. She sat back in the one in Delacor's wardroom on the Kazan, as the big human listened to the C-SEC FINCIN analysts finish up their report.

With a faint smile, she spoke. "In other words, there's not a single jot of evidence that Cerberus – or any human companies – are investing in the wildcat colonies. And the Butcher felt kindly enough to send us a drone basically telling us we're morons."

The volus lead investigator's breathing apparatus rasped sharply before he spoke. "Essentially correct, Spectre Vasir. -_shrrrk_\- While our investigation is not fully completed, we've identified a few likely fronts for Cerberus. Mostly fallout from what looks like infighting between -_shrrrk_\- that group and the Shadow Broker. Most of the investments are in a baffling range."

Delacor folded his hands on the desk. "Such as?"

The salarian standing next to the volus in the small haptic image consulted an info-pad. "Keep in mind this is almost certainly out of date – the Illusive Man, assuming he is involved, has no doubt cut his ties to these companies and cleared out any leads. But the primary investments were in aerospace construction, particularly mobile and rapid construction, and several esoteric bio-tech companies. The focus of the bio-tech was mostly involved with biotic-cybernetic research and genetic restoration therapy."

Delacor looked baffled, glancing at Vasir uncertainly. "Any reason why these would be chosen, some goal of the Illusive Man's?"

The salarian twitched into a shrug. "Possibly. More likely, however, that they were chosen due to high profitability and lack of interest by financial investigators. Whatever the case, if Cerberus is attempting to move on the wildcats, they're being very inefficient – the primary group acting in those regions and drumming up support is the Hand of Hades terrorist network."

Vasir sighed. "Putting us back at square one. Thank you for your assistance, Cera Muthan, Cera Latheas." She killed the signal and turned to face Delacor. "The Council is going to love this. Not only is our assertion completely off, the Butcher has intelligence assets good enough to figure out we're looking for her – and where we are – in a matter of days. Goddess help me."

The other Spectre gave a disgusted wave of his hands, cybernetic eye whirling slightly. "Feh. I'm beginning to understand why Shepard didn't like the Council very much. And in any event, they'll be happy their worst case scenario is actually wrong. I'm more concerned about the intelligence issue, and even more concerned about the Butcher's motivations. What is her goal in taking down slavers and then revealing who is behind the attacks?"

Vasir shrugged. "If Tradius's pet AI is right, and this is cousin Liara...she always did have a soft heart. And if she's struggling with Shepard's memories and suffering from bond dementia, maybe she's doing this out of outrage against the slavers. Shepard hated them, after all. Cerberus's motives in working with her – assuming that they're bankrolling her – are what puzzles me."

Delacor shook his head. "Oh, that I can understand. I had … dealings with that group for a while. I've talked to the Illusive Man. He's a big believer in having access to as many tools as possible, and I have no doubt that the Butcher – whoever she is – is being lead by the nose. He'd go along with wiping out the slavers since those slavers mostly predated on humans, and while making Cerberus look good may not have been his goal, when this all comes out he'll be happy to take the fucking credit, I assure you. Assuming his hype isn't just all talk, taking out the slavers and revealing the Collectors is his way of protecting humanity, no doubt."

Vasir ran a hand over her crests. "Tradius didn't seem to put much faith in that idea."

Delacor's mouth turned down as he stood, gazing out the port side window. "Admiral Ahern is, to put it bluntly, not a big fan of Cerberus or anything like it."

She leaned back. "He and I go way back. I know he's not a big fan about lots of things in the Alliance. But you almost sound as if you are a fan of Cerberus. Need I remind you what they have gotten up to?"

He shook his head. "I'm not a fan. Merely … pragmatic. I'll admit they were helpful to me at one point in my career, but I always thought their actions were short-sighted and likely to get us into more trouble than help us out. Hades is the same way."

He looked over his shoulder. "I won't say I'm a big fan of aliens either, but I'm honest enough to admit a soldier usually sees the worst of other races, not the best."

He turned to face her fully. "But what I meant about Ahern – and his view of Cerberus – is that he had history with some of the people in Cerberus. General Florez was a close teammate of his, and I think her being involved with Cerberus may have clouded his opinion of them. Whatever the group was, I can't imagine it is the same if they are working with asari and quarians."

The asari folded her arms. "Fair enough. Arguing about it won't fix anything, and tides will end up on the beach no matter how much we talk about it. Bigger question : what do we do now? That drone self-destructed, and while it came from the direction of asari space I'm sure that isn't even remotely accurate. We have no leads on where the Butcher might be, or her next actions." She cracked her neck. "Given her last stunt, I really don't want to wait to find out either."

Delacor sat back down, tapping the haptic controls on his desk to bring up a starmap of the Traverse. "We have two pieces of information. First, the Butcher took out slaving operations in this area of the Attican." He highlighted a group of star-systems. "Second, Freedom's Progress is here, on the edge of the Traverse." He highlighted that system as well. "Assuming her ship doesn't have some kind of freaky super-efficient FTL, that means her location is within seventy FTL hours of the edges of this space."

Vasir sighed. "That's over two hundred star systems, and some of them aren't even in the Traverse, more towards the tip of the Black Rim. More than two hundred, actually, if we take into account not every one has been visited by probes. Even more if we assume that she might be operating with a tender that can drop charge for her."

He nodded. "Unfortunately, that's the only thing we have to go on. We can't flood the Traverse with quarian scouts or STG units without drawing Aria's attention. Our only real choice is to split our fleets into search parties and start going through systems one by one. And, as much as you hate the idea, wait for her next action."

Vasir narrowed her eyes. "Or we could attempt to contact her directly."

He arched an eyebrow. "How exactly do we do that?"

She smiled. "The STG has some older Cerberus codes we broke after the fall of their HQ. And we know Cerberus is monitoring comm networks for keywords. We code up a wide-band transmission on several comm networks, some generic message that includes the term 'butcher' and 'Illusive', and incorporate the codes in the header file to include a short message. Cerberus should, if they're even active and capable of monitoring the situation – which I can only presume they are – pick up on it."

Delacor scowled. "That sounds … flaky at best."

She smirked. "More flaky than manually searching over two hundred systems in hostile space?"

He shrugged. "You're the senior Spectre. What will you say?"

She smiled. "Something to attract attention."

**O-TWCD-O**

Jack Harper mused over the transmission from Shepard's trip on Dirth, pausing to sip at his Wild Turkey, before setting the info-pad down. The fact that she'd managed to gain the services of Charles Pressly was frankly unimportant in operational terms, but it would put her more at ease.

Miranda might react poorly, but then again, she might not. Shepard lacked anything approaching charisma, but her blunt talk had the odd effect of making people know she wasn't going to bullshit them. If she gave Miranda a task to focus on, Harper was sure Miranda would show her worth in short order.

He didn't pick her as his heir because of her _looks_, after all.

As for the actual intel from Dirth, he was somewhat disappointed. He had hoped Shepard would be able to make contact with Prince Windsor, but based on the information that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Maxwell Manswell wasn't stupid or arrogant, unlike too many other foes Harper had faced, and almost never left loose ends loose for very long.

The rest was mostly a wash. Contrary to what the good Commandant thought, he was very much aware that 'Richard Manswell' was actually Williams. He'd even told Shepard as much when she'd been awakened, not that she remembered that – hardly surprising, given her emotional turmoil at the time. He had his own eyes and ears in places few expected, and he wasn't about to be taken by surprise a second time.

Maxwell Manswell, no doubt, thought he was merely yet another money-obsessed survivalist, someone with a certain level of cunning but without the wide frame of vision to see the bigger picture. Harper lit a cigarette and exhaled.

He loved it when people thought they understood him and got their concepts about him so wrong.

Still, Chisholm's information about the removal of indoctrination sensors in Vancouver was certainly troubling. Williams and Harper had parted ways before Noveria and the discovery of indoctrination on Virmire, but he doubted the man would think he was in any danger. Williams had a particularly high opinion of himself, and the bits of data he'd gotten from the two spies inside the Black Sector pointed to the fact that they were studying Reaper technology with not even enough safeguards.

Cerberus had a cell studying some bits of Reaper tech as well, but it was all done by mechs, with the controllers remotely directing them from orbit. He saw no reasons to take chances … or give Shepard any reason to distrust him. He had enough projects in the works that Shepard would no doubt take offense to without doing anything to truly anger her.

He inhaled sharply, tapping the small control panel on the arm of his chair, bringing up several additional reports. Things were beginning to move in ways he needed to be ready to alter or change, and a lot of how Cerberus would come out of this mess would depend very much on Shepard and her reactions.

Handling Shepard with the proper care was critical. He had a lot of irons in the fire, but none of them had the potential Shepard had in changing what he could actually do with the money and power he'd accumulated. Shepard's idealism was at least grounded in reality, and if she could be truly brought into Cerberus as a willing partner instead of a reluctant contractor, Manswell was fucked. Shepard was an icon that could not be corrupted. She was a noble by right of her heroics, and the SA had spent two years building her up via propaganda to support their war on the geth.

It was only fitting for him to take advantage of such a thing. He was almost certain Manswell had plotted very carefully to counter anything Harper might come up with, but the man couldn't have predicted Shepard's resurrection.

He smiled thinly. The only issue would be keeping Shepard in the proper mindset. Managing the situation would require very careful timing to keep Shepard busy enough to not have time to ask questions, but not so busy as to make her feel as if he was directing her actions – even if he was. And he had to balance releasing information to turn her against the SA and the Council with making it seem as if she was convincing him to work with other species.

She was surprisingly touchy about the idea of submitting to his orders, given her slavish obedience to orders before death. Then again, he had yet to win her acceptance as a proper authority over her.

Finding the appropriate lever – or leash – for Shepard, unfortunately, was proving far more difficult. Chambers' reports on her mental and psychological state was promising, but the redhead felt attempting seduction at this time was too risky. Still, the possibility was always there. Chambers felt that Shepard would be more vulnerable to honest attraction than sexual release, to emotional ties rather than mere carnality.

And, of course, there was always the somewhat dubious suggestion by Trellani. She claimed that she was skilled enough in the asari mental arts that locating an Alliance asari and mentally modifying her to exhibit some of the same traits that the late Liara T'Soni had would not be hard.

Of course, such an asari would not be Liara T'Soni, nor have any of her memories. But Chamber's initial workups suggested a personality style akin to T'Soni's - perhaps drawing on the detailed graybox memory extracts they had from Shepard to find particularly effective parts of said personality - would get Shepard's attention.

Introduced at the proper time, such an agent – properly treated with post-hypnotic suggestions and unaware she was bait – would snare Shepard if need be. Jack had his doubts about such a plan. The concept itself was certainly doable, but frankly there was always a chance - however slim - that Trellani's touch on the asari's mind would be detected.

Harper did not fear many things, but he could not even imagine the level of titanic fury Shepard would exhibit if such a plan were ever to be discovered. It was, at best, a last-gasp plan, only to be used if her psyche began to fragment or she experienced complications requiring a bonded asari in her life once more.

And in any event, that level of enticement would have to wait until events ran their course more fully, however. His primary focus now was on pulling together Shepard's required team. Shepard was powerful and surprisingly well-rounded after Ahern's training, but lacked specialties that going up against the Collectors would require.

And pulling together said team was not going as smoothly as he would have liked.

Doctor Solus was on route to the Silver Rim, Ms. Goto was still planning her little fracas on Bekenstein, and by all reports the situation on Ilium was going to come to a head very soon. Shepard would have to be carefully managed and prodded to the right places at the right times, but that shouldn't be too hard, given that all her intel on the situation came from him in the first place.

The only real unknowns at this point were whatever Okeer was up to – which, in a pinch, could be handled with an accidental orbital bombardment, or simply letting Shepard get pissed off – and the clumsy maneuvering of the Council.

He had to be very careful in how he played his next few cards. Humanity's position on the Council was delicate, and he needed to make sure nothing he did placed humanity as a whole in a poor light – or as a threat. Given the Alliance's short-sighted idiocy involving NOVENSILES, he had to make sure that the Alliance wasn't exposed until the proper time – and by his hand, or at least that of Shepard.

He needed to apply a new set of pressures, and with a smile he tapped his commlink.

A few moments later, a genial, heavy bass voice answered. "Jack! Glad to see you haven't been killed off yet."

The Illusive Man shook his head. "Of course not, Henry. I'm merely keeping a lower profile than usual."

Henry Lawson's image flitted up on the main haptic screen on the far wall of Harper's command center, reflecting in distorted shapes off the glossy floor. "No doubt. I don't think you are calling me up to schedule our next poker game...what's up?"

Harper dumped his ashes in the tray built into the arms of his chair. "I sent a … feeler out to determine the current status of Prince Windsor. He's being held incommunicado, under Commissariat lockdown, on Dirth. According to the information we have, there are at least several Commissars, and probably a full Legio detachment, plus very heavy security. A military coup d'état with him as its head will not be possible anytime soon."

Lawson shrugged. "It was a long shot idea anyway, Jack. The geth project would make it easier, but that would have still required at least two or three of the bigger noble houses to go along with us."

Harper nodded. "We'll discuss the geth project in a bit, although it is the main reason I called. First, what about your own efforts?"

Lawson snorted. "I've got some feelers of my own out there, of course, but the politics are getting stupider by the day. Six Red Notes in the past two months, mostly to stop the congress from curtailing funding towards black projects. The High Lords are taking a much heavier hand, and the Corporate Court's extraterritorial powers were enhanced last week as well. The announcement this morning about a Manswell running for President, well."

The industrialist's broad face twisted into a sneer. "You have to admit, it's all very neat."

Jack nodded. "And NOVENSILES?"

Lawson sighed. "They've scrapped the fourth run – too many cascading errors – but are starting up the fifth and sixth trial runs. It slowed a lot when the Butcher cut the damned slaver networks in the Traverse apart, but not for long. They had some sort of backroom deals cut between the AIS and the STG, and are getting slaves in from the Black Rim now."

Jack puffed on his cigarette. "Openly?"

Henry laughed. "Hell no. Off the books, of course. The AIS liaison I work with was pretty smug about the whole thing, actually. I've slowed down the development as much as I can with concerns about genetic stability and protein-sheath collapse – not hard when the last batch turned to mush – and so far they aren't pushing. But they're moving forward with the genotyping."

Harper shook his head in disgust. "MarsGene?"

Lawson nodded. "Ever since President Windsor was locked up and the decent half of the family killed off at Nova Scotia, Dared Windsor has had a much freer hand. Doesn't help MarsGene is basically operating without any damned oversight on Deimos now. Harder to obtain alien samples with Cerberus out of action and Hades still getting ramped up...but they're kidnapping the occasional alien SA citizens to make up for it."

Harper inhaled on his cigarette again. "Ruthless, if hardly surprising." He rolled the cigarette's tip around the edge the ashtray, then looked back up. "I've had some financial setbacks. Jenesys Pharmalife was penetrated by the Broker, and he managed to route connections at least to a full cell. Nothing that exposes you...but they may have recovered fragments of the data on Project Osiris, and the Broker is going to start putting pieces together sooner or later. I'm shifting all the QEC routing to run directly through Hammerhead Station for now, and we'll have to rely more on HelNet's QEC encryption than direct comms. The other cells have been restructured, but my end is still mostly secure."

Lawson nodded. "So far, nothing on my end has been penetrated. Still, I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. They've added more Commissars...and a couple of guys in black armor jumpsuits and non-stock mil-spec cyberware. They're heavily concerned about security and some of the things going on in the labs I no longer have access to. I don't think they suspect me in any way, but … if they knew I was part of Cerberus..." He trailed off. "I have Oriana to think of, after all."

The Illusive Man's face tightened imperceptibly. "Henry, you're not a 'formal' part of Cerberus. I always kept our interactions at arms length and under the cover of my public persona, to throw off Florez and Williams. If things are getting dangerous, get the hell out with Oriana while you still can. I can have people get you in a day."

Lawson's eyes flickered, then brightened. "I'll stick it out a bit longer, Jack. At least until I can get a full baseline on what they're doing with NOVENSILES. As for the other project we're working on …"

He tapped something on his omni-tool as Harper leaned forward. "I've set up a ring of shell companies, like I said, to get this ball with the geth rolling. So far, I think we're completely in the dark as far as anyone else knowing about it."

Images flashed up, showing rows of geth in various states of disassembly. Lawson's voice was edged with triumph. "We're fully capable of recreating baseline geth soldiers, although we're still doing all the building and work using mechs, since we're not sure if any of this stuff is Reaper tech or not. Building geth-style ships has taken more time, but we're set up pretty good in the two systems I picked out – lots of raw materials in the asteroid belts, and so far off any trade lanes that no one will ever go looking."

The Illusive Man smiled, stubbing out his cigarette. "How many have we been able to produce?"

Lawson sighed. "Only about fifteen ships, and only one of those is cruiser sized. But we have over six thousand platforms now. They aren't really 'geth', of course. We're still using the copy of the EDI AI Rasa obtained for us, code-named EVA." Lawson's voice dipped a bit, his expression turning stern. "She'd have appreciated the reference, Jack."

A faint smile crossed Harper's features for a moment. "She was always going on about the potential of AI, that is true." He exhaled sharply. "You were saying?"

Lawson brought up another image. "They aren't geth. We've copied as much telemetry and footage of the geth fighting style, and EVA does an excellent job of faking up things, but they don't get smarter the more of them we add, and the bigger ones are too complex to recreate. Still, we estimate we can have a full-on strike force in another six to seven weeks at the current rates of production. Once we finish the third production line, that triples."

Harper nodded. "And with no link to Cerberus, any actions taken by these geth cannot be linked back to us. I think we have just the tools we need to manipulate events as we see fit, Henry. _Very_ well done indeed."

The industrialist chuckled. "The only tricky part was getting it set up. I've purged every record of the process, and in a week I'll be able to start liquidating the shell companies. Once that's done, and the remains are folded into a holding corporation, I'll edit up what's left to point fingers back at Manswell and see who comes sniffing. STG, probably."

Harper leaned back in his chair. "Good. I'll keep in touch when I am ready to proceed with the next steps. Shepard is … not exactly trusting, if more cooperative than I expected."

Lawson shrugged. "I've done what I can to help. Can't do much about the Omega situation, but I have my people on Ilium putting out queries. One thing came to my attention – images of the Sisters in action." Another tap of his omni-tool pulled up a grainy long-distance image of two slender figures in black and red armor. The distinctive blast of a shotgun illuminated the scene as the taller of the two fired on some Broker goon.

Harper frowned. There was no real value in the image, but something about the weapon in the hands of the asari tickled his memory. With a grunt of irritation, he set it aside. "Not of much use, sadly. Still no ideas who they could be?"

Lawson spread his hands. "Sneaking about isn't my skill-set. My people are good, but Ilium is dangerous and asking the wrong sorts of questions would attract attention I can't afford. Rumor has it they're backed by the STG … might want to hit up some of the known STG-sponsored information brokers and see if you can't shake anything loose."

Harper nodded. "I will have to see what Kai and Pel shake loose once they handle their current assignment." He sipped at his drink. "I'll be in touch, Henry. Stay safe."

Lawson nodded, killing the connection without further words, and Jack Harper sat back, lost in thought. He was considering going down to have a meal when his comm system lit off. "Yes?"

The voice of one of his communications analysts spoke. "Sir, we picked up a curious message inserted into six trunk commnet messaging systems. Just started up about an hour ago. The message is a generic transmission of shipping manifests, but it triggered our systems because it contained keywords – butcher and illusive – and the messages themselves were involving some of the front companies breached by the Broker, sir."

He lit a fresh cigarette. "I see. I presume there was more to the message?"

"Yes sir. There's an encrypted header file on each one...using old TYPHONET coding schemes. We haven't used those since the incident on Edolus. We decrypted the headers and they contain a message. 'Butcher. Looks like your trail is being followed. Need to talk. Council needs answers. We know who you are. Cousin Tela.' The message is identical across all packets."

Harper leaned back in his chair, then his face split into an amused grin for a moment. "Cousin Tela, is it? Good work, Gareston. Have the messages routed to my system for review. Reply to the listings with the following, using the same encryption. 'Will contact you when ready. Strongly recommend you act on Collector threat now. Confirmation Reapers are involved. Not who you think I am.' Send it after six standard hours, and use an FTL drone from … the Silver Rim."

"Yes sir." The comm signal disconnected, and Harper tapped his own comm panel.

"Get me the Normandy on QEC."

**O-TWCD-O**

Pressly's return to the Normandy was low-key, but Sedanya, Tali, and Joker were all present to welcome him aboard, along with most of the Normandy marine team.

He laughed out loud when he saw scarf around Joker's neck matched Tali's reik. "I see you two are out in the open now."

Joker tilted his head. "Huh?"

Pressly smirked, leaning back in his lift chair. "The XO has to review all entry and docking usage logs, Jeff. Including when someone uses a certain clean room twelve times in half as many days back on Arcturus."

Joker blushed a bit, then smirked. "Says the man who got blasted out of his mind and had a _threesome_ at the Consort's place on the Citadel."

Tali chipped in. "And the _very_ handsome asari lady on Thessia when we were there most of the day."

Shepard folded her arms, arching an eyebrow. "I didn't hear about that one."

Pressly muttered something under his breath and Shepard suppressed a grin, pushing her hair back. "Alright, Doctor Sedanya, he's all yours."

The asari doctor nodded, stepping forward with an activated omnitool. "I need to do some deep scans of your nervous system and what exactly those hacks in the military did to you before I can make recommendations to the cyberneticists back at the base, but by the time the Normandy docks there we should be ready for surgery. At the very least, we can give you full mobility...maybe bionics with a more natural look for the arm."

Pressly waved a hand. "That can wait a bit. I need to meet this XO of Shepard's so we can begin discussing what needs to get done. I've had … a lot of down time. A lot of time to think, go over my life, my beliefs. And a lot of time to wonder what I could have done better as executive officer."

Miranda Lawson swallowed and stepped forward. "That would be me, Mr. Pressly. Miranda Lawson, in charge of the project to revive Shepard and several other critical pieces of this operation."

Shepard glanced at the two of them and smiled. "Miranda, I'll be in the comms room. Vigil says Big Daddy TIM wants to talk at me. I trust you two can get along?"

Sedanya snorted, moving to push the lift chair. "You two can have your XO briefing in medical so I can get this scan started. I have enough difficulty with Shepard, I don't need two difficult patients."

Pressly smiled. "Good to see you too, Doc."

Shepard rolled her eyes and headed to the elevator, taking it up to the CIC deck and exiting. Heading through the still empty lab area, she entered into the QEC comm room aboard the Normandy.

Vigil popped into view. "The ship is prepared to move. Orders for Mr. Moreau?"

Shepard waved a hand. "Unless something changes, set course for Purgatory. Max stealth and stay off the trade lanes."

Vigil evaporated, and Shepard blinked. The AI was getting flakier all the time. With a sharp exhalation to steady her nerves, she hit the comms button, taking in the glowing outline of the Illusive Man.

"I trust you got my report?"

Harper nodded, his customary drink in hand, smoking a cigarette. "That I did. I am not sure I approve of Chisholm's … casual attitude – putting you into the open with such a shallow disguise and no military backup was a large risk to take, one that did not develop the way I had hoped."

She shrugged. "He said Windsor was too locked down to see. You gave your reasons why you wanted me to meet him, but I was under the impression I'd be picking someone else up besides Pressly."

Harper sighed. "Originally, my impression was that Chisholm was in stronger command of the situation, and had an additional resource to bring into play – he was going to attempt to extract Windsor's daughter, Eliza, both to neutralize the blackmail put into place over the former president and as a potential asset of her own." He exhaled smoke, tapping his ashes away.

"Obviously that plan did not proceed as intended, and he had no opportunity to update me with changes. While not under direct scrutiny in person, his communications opportunities are sharply limited. No matter. We have obtained … interesting intelligence, and you have reclaimed your old XO."

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. I'm guessing the Alliance wasn't keeping tabs on them?"

Harper sipped his drink. "At first, yes, for almost a year. But they reduced such when nothing ever transpired, and as it stands the surveillance was completely canceled four months ago. And in any event, I have people in place to … deflect … such inquiries if the AIS becomes concerned. For the most part your marine team was heavily sidelined and only Ms. Williams and Mr. Cole remain active."

He gestured with the cigarette. "On the other hand, recent intel suggests Ashley Williams has been assigned to serve under Delacor. So the possibly of contact is now there, if ... tricky."

She shrugged. "If it happens, it happens. You didn't call to chitchat."

He leaned back, blue eyes focusing on hers. "No, I did not. We've received a feeler from a surprising source. The Spectres looking for you appear to have taken precipitous action when they realized you and I were not attempting some act of dastardly evil among the wildcat colonies. Using a rather creative method, they have sent you a message of sorts. They claim the Citadel wishes to speak with you."

He puffed on the cigarette. "There's one problem. They seem to think _you_ are Liara T'Soni."

Shepard was speechless for a long moment, then shook her head. "Well, given the truth is so fucking strange that I can barely believe it myself, that's not much of a stretch."

He nodded. "Normally, I would be … hesitant to engage in dialogue of any kind with the Council until our own plans are ready." He gave a thin smile. "But I have given some thought to your words about how Cerberus is likely to be viewed."

She arched an eyebrow. "You actually listened to me?"

Jack Harper sighed. "Yes, I did. You are not simply some gun-for-hire, Shepard. I value your insight very highly. I told you at the outset that this would be a partnership. That means I have to pay attention to your input, even if I tend to have little faith or trust in the motives and the plans of the Citadel Council."

He stubbed out the cigarette. "For the moment, I have given them a non-committal reply, urging them to take the Collector threat seriously, linking them to the Reapers, and clarifying that you are not Liara. I decided not to cast aspersions on the Broker and his intelligence – yet – without more proof we can carry to them. Still, no matter how limited, an open line of communication is useful in several ways."

He shifted in his seat. "The transmission is scheduled to go out in a few hours. I had it transmitted from the Silver Rim, to further confuse them. I'd like it if you could wrap up events at Purgatory and Korlus as rapidly as possible while they are distracted."

She nodded. "Purgatory is where I'm headed now. I'll need to drop Pressly off at the base before moving out to Korlus. I'm guessing still no news from Massani? I'm guessing he's not going to be able to meet me at Purgatory."

"He is in the process of finishing his business now. He will be meeting you at Korlus. There is a possibility the man he's hunting has gone to ground with other Blue Suns units and he wants to check that out personally before beginning his contract. He comes at a very high price, so make good use of him on Korlus – Okeer is unlikely to be cooperative and is extremely dangerous."

She nodded sourly. "He beat the everliving fuck out of Wrex, the toughest fighter I know. Still, I'm thinking I'll get some useful information out of him."

Harper nodded. "I'm keeping a very close eye on Omega and Ilium. When I know more I will let you know."

She nodded. "Then I'm off to Purgatory, unless there's something else?"

He gave a small, strange smile. "One more thing. There have been troubling reports of renewed geth activity in several areas outside the Perseus Veil. Until we know more I'd recommend steering clear of that entire region. The war with them was thought to have crushed most of their fleet holdings and cleared out several strongpoints, but if they are retooling and rebuilding..."

She winced. "Well, it's bad and good – if the geth are still fighting then the Council and Alliance will build more warships. We're going to need as many as we can fucking get."

"Quite so. Once you've acquired Jack, return to your base as you originally planned. I'll have a familiar face waiting for Jack there that may aid in winning her cooperation."

She arched an eyebrow, but nodded. "...fine. Shepard out."

She killed the connection, pinching the bridge of her nose. As usual, she could read the Illusive Man about as well as she could read ancient Peruvian – not at all – but something about his tone near the end, talking about the geth, sounded a bit too happy.

She pushed it out of her mind, and decided to head down to engineering. Maybe Tali would be up for a talk. She didn't want to hover over Pressly, and she'd chatted the ears off her marines for hours already, in a sad attempt at reclaiming something like normalcy in her life.

She exited the room, and after several seconds the form of Vigil popped into existence, triggering the QEC link again. It illuminated, showing Jack Harper reviewing an info-pad in his lap. He looked up in clear surprise.

"...ah. It's you."

Vigil made a chiming sound. "Mr. Harper. As a rule, I tend to frown on attempts to 'keep me in the dark' as it were. Your little geth project, while certainly entertaining, would have been much more efficiently handled by me."

Harper's eyes narrowed, his mouth drawing into a thin line. "There are times, Vigil, when your open reticence at providing me with any reasonable level of actionable technology, your insistence on operating large amounts of military hardware, and your open belief that we are all going to fall to the Reapers inspires me to hesitate to place all my eggs in one basket. In hindsight, notifying you of the plans I have would somewhat exceed my expectations of what I had in mind for your … interaction with Cerberus."

The sphere pulsed in amusement. "Be that as it may, organic – such thick-tentacled manipulations may deceive that pack of deluded savages cowering aboard the Reaper mousetrap, but could have unexpected reactions. The technology the geth are using – and that you are indirectly using – is Reaper in origin and function. It would be simplicity for the Reapers – or their agents, I presume – to override such forces and force them into their own command structure."

Harper shook his head. "The geth warforms being used contain no runtimes."

Vigil gave a human sigh. "Mr. Harper, the war-form design incorporates, among other things, a wide-band receiver for signals transmission. It doesn't matter if you load them with an AI of your own design or not, everything built to that specification can have something downloaded into it – such as said runtimes."

Harper leaned back into his seat. "The purpose of the mock geth was to spur additional warship construction, to draw fleet attention to whatever the Broker is up to in the Far Rim, and stir up fears about geth – and Reapers. Your worries sound, frankly, farfetched at best, although I will certainly keep them in mind."

Vigil pulsed. "The Collectors have info-war capability and hacking prowess at least roughly on par with my own, Mr. Harper. I understand you are worried about the amount of power I have under my control, with my daemons running Shepard's fleet and army of war robots. Having a backup army of geth under your command must seem like a clever counterbalance to that, as well as the no doubt useful goals you just alluded to – not to mention a hidden power to support your precious humanity."

The sphere brightened. "But please keep in mind I am a picotech creation engine. I could, with no more than one of my sub-spheres, create an entire Inusannon fleet and man it with war-golems in as little as ninety-six solar hours. My loyalty is not to Shepard, nor to you – I cooperate with you because I choose to do so, and because you are useful to my goals."

The Illusive Man's eyes narrowed further. "I see no conflict in my plans and yours at this time. The geth copies … as you have just stated … are hardly of any level of threat."

Vigil bobbed. "This is true enough. I merely wished to point out that they carry a certain level of danger, remind you of both my independence and my level of access...and, in the charming parlance of Shepard, 'fuck with your head'. I don't care that you have your own plans, Mr. Harper. But I hate it when you are sloppy."

It killed the connection, before allowing itself a moment of amusement. That human was entirely too full of his own intellect to be allowed to get too smug, less he try something ignorant involving Vigil himself.

More importantly, though, Vigil didn't like the idea of robot armies at the Illusive Man's beck and call. Gaining aptitude with too much Reaper technology might incite the Reapers to conduct a more in-depth cull of species than normal, and he'd expended a great deal of effort in preparing the yahg for when this cycle's races were wiped out. The yahg were impressive – much more so than any of the current cycle's primitives – and he did not want to have their potential wasted due to the paranoid plotting of an ignorant meatbag.

If the Illusive Man thought he was in control of the situation, well, his opinion of the human's intellectual capacities would lessen.

Vigil internally debated on notifying Shepard before deciding not to. After all, Harper had taken exquisite precautions against Vigil finding out about the geth project, routing all aspects of it through his ally Lawson. Unfortunately, Harper didn't seem to realize Vigil had injected a few of his own particles into the QEC pairing chambers used by all of Cerberus and was monitoring every bit of their communications.

That had started as simple self-preservation, to head off the kind of silliness that had ended with him locked in a cargo container on the Citadel, surrounded by 'computer experts' that wouldn't have qualified as janitors in the Inusannon Collective. Monitoring Harper's usually excellent fieldcraft and subtle touch had become a pastime for him in recent weeks, however, especially as he was no longer distracted by the goal of bringing Shepard back to life.

And, of course, he _was_ an Inusannon device. Trolling would never get old.

**O-TWCD-O**

For the balance of most days aboard the Purgatory Isolation Enforcement Station, Warden Kuril of Meshar had what he considered a calm day. Calm being relative, of course. Any station holding hundreds of violent criminals, psychotic cyborgs, biotic terrorists, and the worst volus lawyers in space was always going to have a few things going wrong.

But in general, on an average day, things ran well and in the proper order, his men were safe, the violent scum he kept locked up were behaving themselves, and he didn't have to deal with that clown Vido Santiago.

Today, however, in his irritated opinion, wasn't going to be the average day, much less a good one. The day had started with a food riot due to burned out mass effect field isolation devices not kicking in, resulting in two of his men being injured. A big contract to house some fifty felons from the Elcor Stability had fallen through. Power conduits were blown in part of cryostasis and replacements would cost damn near a quarter of a million credits. One of the volus lawyers he had locked up had sent an appeal, a document of over thirty thousand pages with four-hundred and eleven annexes, demanding it be adjudicated at the Vol Court of Corporations.

And, worst of all, he was having to deal with that clown Vido Santiago.

He stared in exasperated disbelief at the somewhat grainy image on the haptic screen in his office overlooking the primary run of the prison station. "Vido, I'm afraid the answer is no. When you took Massani out of the picture, it was presented to us as a business decision he had agreed to. Years later we find out you ambushed him and supposedly killed him, and then lied to the rest of the legion commanders."

He sat back in his curved chair, stretching his spurs slightly. "Now we come to find out you didn't even have the sirefucking decency to kill him clean, but left him alive – and he's back to put a bullet in your skull. Not only do you expect me to risk my own life by trying to get in his way, you want me to strip my station – which is, I point out, filled with some of the most violent and dangerous criminals in the galaxy – of Suns legionaries to back you up."

He examined his talons a long moment before glancing back at the screen. "I'm not exactly sure what recreational drugs you've been taking to think I would do that, but I know a good rehab clinic when you want to get clean. You'll have to look elsewhere for help."

Vido's ugly face took on harsher lines as he spoke. "I'm the goddamned LEADER of this corporation!"

Kuril sniffed. "No, you are the CEO. When Zaeed formed the Suns, each of the four Legion commanders – myself, Tarek, Jedore, and Vosque – agreed to let him run things in terms of large-scale contracts and general direction, but the men we had remained under our command. You did the business tark-shit, and when you had Solem brought on board we treated him just the same – as one of the Legion. You put the job offers up and let us bid on them, but you are NOT my commanding officer, and my men don't answer to you,"

Vido spluttered and the turian smiled. "Look, Santiago. I'll be blunt. Even if I wanted to help you, I _can't._ I only have a few hundred men, and most of our weapons are not heavy enough for direct battle, but for riot suppression. By the spirits, I don't even have proper armor against the kind of shit the Firestorm likes to use. I have no battle suits and the ships I have on station have their FTL drives removed specifically to prevent mass escapes – they're only present to pick off any torpedoes used against the station, or shuttles attempting access. The only FTL capable ships I have are the evacuation units...and those are integral to the station's integrity."

He leaned back slightly. "So I have no methods of having my men reach you. And as I said, the station is a dangerous place – I need the entirety of my unit here to prevent riots and escapes." He leaned forward. "I don't understand why you need my men anyway. I thought you were working with Solem and Tarek. What exactly happened to Solem's unit...and why did you leave Omega?"

Vido grimaced. "Solem's unit was the first thing Massani hit. His Firestorm PMC blew their HQ while I was away on Omega, killed most of the unit instantly, some kind of fuel-air-eezo explosive. By the time I found out about it, it was too late to convince Tarek to help me. Plus, the fucking Archangel is killing everything on Omega, and that lunatic Tarek wanted to go take him on directly. Then Zaeed contacted him directly – and one of my guys told me Tarek was going to sell me out to Massani for cash!"

Kuril privately thought that was an outstanding idea, and quite possibly the only good use slime like Vido could be put towards. Out loud, he merely shook his head. "I would suggest trying to reach out to Vosque and his asari unit. The Citadel is pretty safe, and if you keep a low profile I doubt Massani will look there for you, given all your contacts are in the Traverse. And there's certainly no love lost between Darner and Zaeed."

Vido swallowed. "Has he contacted you? Zaeed, I mean."

Kuril settled his fringe. "Zaeed? No, not yet. Then again, there were times we didn't see eye to eye much better than he and Tarek did. Worst case scenario, Vido, you can always simply run back to Earth. As far as I know you're still an SA citizen, right?"

Vido scowled. "I'd have to give up most of my money to do that!"

The turian smiled. "Which is still better than losing your life, no?" He glanced at the status board for the sensor network and flicked a mandible. "If you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I have incoming guests."

With a satisfied snarl he killed the connection, before tapping a commlink, contacting his lieutenant. "Kesara, can you add Vido's commlink ID to the spam filters, please? I saw your alert, we have an incoming ship?"

Rather than answer, the doors to his office slid open, revealing the form of his lieutenant and bondmate, Kesara. Wearing thin-line riot armor backstopped with omni-fields, she walked into the room holding an OSD and nodded sourly. "I've added him already, he keeps coming up with shifting ID's."

The warden sighed. "I see. Well, add this one too. The ship?"

She nodded, running a hand over her crests and pulling out an info-pad "Yes, we have … a strange reading on the sensors. The picket ship at the relay in the Vark System reported an activation six hours ago, but didn't pick up any ships. And our blueshift sensors have been quiet. Yet out of nowhere what looks like some kind of super-heavy destroyer just entered detection range, transmitting a confirmation code for a prisoner transfer."

Kuril shook his head. The asari matriarch who'd visited him the day before had warned him this would happen, and that he should take special care receiving the visitors who would come aboard. Getting up from his desk, he cracked his neck. "I was informed this would be the case. Some kind of cloaking, I think. Have Jack moved from cryostasis to recovery and prepped for transfer, put at least ten guards on the transfer shift."

He paused. "These people...are extremely dangerous, Kesara. They're paying top dollar for us to let Jack slip through the net and look the other way, and I've been told to meet their representative solo. They've already transferred the money so I don't think they're out to try anything, but have Alpha and Beta standing by in case things go vakar-shaped."

The asari nodded, biting her lip. "Should I have the admin area cleared?"

He shook his head. "Have them dock at port eleven, near recovery. There won't be any paperwork on this one. We'll have a 'minor accident' and report her dead later on."

His bondmate gave him a skeptical look."You usually hate skidding over the waves in that fashion."

He nodded, but shrugged. "I usually don't get handed ten million credits for a single convict, either. Besides, despite how crazy Jack is, I find myself admiring her – she got in trouble stopping slavers, after all. If I can get her free and make a profit without burning myself or the Suns, I will."

He left his offices, entering the main central corridor of the station. Purgatory had started life as a mass hydroponics station project of the volus, but had failed to maintain profitability and to sell enough produce to the Traverse markets. The Blue Suns had bought the station for a pittance when they began operations, and over time it had expanded.

The central section was given over to docks, medical facilities, armories, and living quarters for the Security Team, as well as hangars and the like. Four massive connecting arms lined with unpressurized passageways linked the central hub to four large penal sections. Each section was given over to specific criminal groupings – one held biotic criminals, another cybernetic enhanced types, a third held various criminals in cryosleep or isolation, and the final one was split between a temporary holding area for bounty captures they planned to sell, an execution unit for governments who didn't like to get their own hands dirty, and a few specialty cells for volus criminals.

The passageways linking each section to the center required full environmental armor to traverse, as they had no atmosphere, easily preventing escapes. Kuril engaged his helmet on his own armor, activating the airlock to transition to the long passage, his thoughts on Jack.

Jack was certainly a violent criminal, but her short career had been one of a mix of opportunistic looting and vigilante actions against slavers. He didn't know much about her background, only that she'd fallen in with some freebooters operating out of the Traverse, failed human Corsairs acting independently from the SA.

The group, calling themselves the Blade of Eris, had crushed several small slaving outfits, looting the groups and freeing some slaves where they could. They also felt like looting and blowing up the various units that made use of such slaves. They fell afoul of trouble when they smashed a slaving ring that was apparently providing slaves to some turian Deathwatch group.

Kuril snarled softly to himself as he walked, the turrets in the corridor slowly tracking him as he did so. The main reason he'd fallen out with the Hierarchy himself was their half-talon attitude towards the atrocities committed by the Deathwatch. Oh, he knew other races did bad things, but the Deathwatch, in his opinion, was truly sick.

Slaves were used by them to practice executions, to teach new members how to quickly kill members of any race they ran across, and to test out members in live-fire conditions. Chipped with nervous system shunts and limbic system overrides, they would force their captives to attack in special arenas where new Deathwatch trainees slaughtered them by the score, sometimes for training – and sometimes for darker purposes.

Deathwatch doctrine had fallen to new lows after certain turians like Saren had more of a hand in its direction. The Deathwatch was encouraged to become amoral and hard, rather than the honorable if brutal group it had been under the watch of leaders like Vakarian and Pallin. Part of this was no doubt driven by the tork-shit the salarians and asari had driven the Hierarchy into.

He slapped the hatch access at the far end of the corridor and stepped into the airlock, waiting for pressures to equalize. Poor Jack and her band of freebooters had hit a Deathwatch slave holding facility, and from there how exactly she ended up in his prison, with a small payment every month to keep her that way was a complete mystery to him.

Rather than poking at it – given the Deathwatch was involved – he'd just kept his mouth shut. Jack had been violent enough that after only a few months she'd killed six inmates and two of his guards, and he'd had her shot full of tranquilizers and placed into cryostasis. Now a shady group of some kind was willing to pay millions to get their hands on her.

He didn't like the situation. But money was money, and he couldn't afford to be picky.

The airlock equalized, and he entered the core of the cryo containment facility. Catwalks circled the central area, overseeing row upon row of heavily frosted canisters, each containing a single inmate. Cryostasis was inexpensive once the initial equipment cost was paid, and removed an inmate's ongoing need for food, medical care, and other maintenance costs. Some called it cruel, but Kuril thought it was actually the most merciful way to incarcerate someone.

A revival team was already at work on the fourth tier of containers, along with a bulky cargo mech. He looked up and tapped his omni. "Status on the transfer and revival."

The leader of the team, a Third Centurion, looked down and saw Kuril, tapping his own omni. "Fifty percent complete, Warden. Vitals look good, brain waves coming out of theta ranges now. Probably another thirty minutes until she's awake. We have the recovery area in lockdown and pulse suppressor coils are at full charge. We also gave her a shot of enfidorcin, should make her biotics almost impossible to use for a good two hours."

Kuril nodded. "The buyer is coming to the cryorecovery docking area. We won't be handling this one in admin. Once Jack is awake and can be moved, we want her moved to the shuttle they'll be using as soon as possible." He paused. "Do not antagonize these people, Greth. They're dangerous."

The centurion gave a salute. "Understood, warden. We'll keep you informed."

Kuril nodded, and turned down to his left, heading through a narrow corridor lined with heavy pipes for the cryocooling systems into a narrow corridor. Heavy reinforced doors pierced both sides of the corridor, leading to the equipment used to maintain the stasis cells and the temperature control systems.

After a few minutes walk he ended up in another cross corridor, and pushed through the heavy isolation doors to the wide open bay of the hangar built at the lowest part of the cryo facility. Even as he did so, the outer atmospheric field flickered and a sleekly armored black shuttle craft – human, if he wasn't mistaken – began entry.

As soon as it was inside, the outer field snapped shut, the inner atmospheric barrier falling and generating a brief breeze as pressure equalized. The shuttle came to a neat halt before descending to the hangar deck, touching down perfectly and powering its engines down.

He stepped forward, surreptitiously checking his weapons as he did so. He waited patiently as the shuttle's side hatch swung out, then to one side, and a small metallic ramp descended to meet the hangar deck.

A pair of up-armored security mechs stepped out first, unarmed but with heavy Phaeston rifles on their back magnetic mounts. They were followed by a human woman in a tight fitting armored outfit, with long black hair, and finally by a larger figure in very heavy bone-white armor and a mirror-faced, elongated helmet.

Kuril swallowed as he recognized this last figure from videos and the extranet, and took a single step forward. "Welcome to Purgatory Isolation Enforcement Station, a division of the Blue Suns private military consortium. I wasn't informed my client was the Butcher."

The armored figure folded her arms, tilting her head slightly. "Is that going to be a problem, Warden Kuril?"

He shook his head slowly. "Not at all. I rather admire what you have done in the Traverse, it was long overdue." He sighed. "I knew Shepard. She certainly would have approved herself."

For some reason the human female to the left found this slightly amusing, if he could read human expressions correctly. The Butcher merely nodded, and spoke. "Is this hangar bay secure? That is, no cameras, no recording devices, and no one else is here?"

Kuril frowned but nodded. "That was what your representative insisted on. That I was to meet you here, by myself, with no witnesses or recording devices."

The Butcher paused, as if listening to something on her internal comm feed, then nodded. "Good. There is a reason I asked for these precautions. I've been very careful not to reveal myself in public...but the time will soon come where I am forced to do so, and I want certain parties to know before hand, so they can back me up."

He flicked a mandible. "Have we met before, then? I don't do much business with the Asari Republic."

For some reason the Butcher laughed, and then she tapped the controls for her helmet. It split and folded back, revealing not blue skin but pale brown tones, black hair, and piercing blue eyes.

"I believe the first time we met, we were alone, and you asked me why I did what I did. I told you it was because I would never let assholes get away with reducing more of the innocent to the sort of hell I'd been through, and if you had a problem with it you could shove your talons up your ass."

Kuril's gizzard contracted, his eyes narrowing, his fringe lifted. He almost had to physically tamp down on his instinct to spring and leap, to kill this … this impostor. It had …

Her words registered, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Sara Shepard was _killed_."

Shepard smiled. "Yes, I was. I was also revived. I've been...you might say being rebuilt over the past two years."

He shook his head slowly, mandibles tensed. "I find that extremely hard to believe. The Alliance buried a body. The rumor was that your body was a mangled ruin. You are either some form of clone, or surgically altered."

She felt back onto one hip, a pose he knew very well, her lips quirked in her own half-smile. He inhaled, and shivered. It certainly smelled like her. Her heartbeat was steady, calm. But there were other scents on her. Machinery. Something else, something...metallic and bitter. And he could hear the faint whine of cybernetic motors.

"If I'm a clone or a mockup, how the hell could I know what I said to you when we first met? It was just you – your squad was in the corridor behind you, and no one else was around." She folded her arms. "Kuril. You were the first turian I met that I trusted. You were the person who convinced the First Army group that letting me go after the slavers at Vetra was a good idea."

She looked at him, her voice steady. "I'm me. I don't have very many fucking people I need to believe me, but I didn't invite you to my goddamned wedding because you are an acquaintance."

He stared at her a long moment, thoughts racing. His eyes traced her form, narrowing. "We had a conversation on Setros, after I recommended you for a commendation. Just the two of us on the shuttle."

She smiled. "I remember. You were talking about how worried you were about Kesara being away from the Suns."

He began to shake quietly. There was no possible way anyone but her could have known about that conversation. His mind tumbled in confusion even as his voice flanged heavily enough that his omnitool translator stuttered. "You _died_, fool girl."

She snorted, taking a step forward. "I can't be killed. That was always the legend, right?"

He stared hard at the decking, then looked back up at her. Relief, anger, confusion and a host of other emotions battled it out in his gaze. "It's been two years, Sara. You could have said something – "

The woman next to her spoke. "She could not. Until recently she was in a medically induced coma...and a host of other factors. It was only a few weeks ago she regained consciousness and mobility." She sighed. "And if some of her own closest associates doubt her return, you can imagine galactic reaction – or that of the Alliance – if she openly announced her survival."

Kuril dug his talons into his fringe before stepping forward. "I … am glad you are alive. But I am still at a loss..what are you doing? Why the asari disguise? What is going ON?"

She placed a hand on his shoulder, reaching up to do so, keeping those storm blue eyes fixed on his. "I'm fixing shit, Kuril. I'm done fucking around. They killed Liara, and my friends. They've fucked my government, they've ignored my warnings, and they're letting innocent people get killed or worse. I'm going to fix things – my way."

The sheer steel in her voice – no copy could replicate that. He placed both his own hands on her smaller frame and lifted her and her armor up as if it weighed nothing, crushing her into an embrace. "Idiot monkey. You'll only get yourself killed _again_ that way."

He let her go after a long moment. He'd never forgotten she had saved his life, the life of his brother and sister. That she'd endorsed his own campaign against slavers and their ilk even when it got her in serious trouble. That she'd risked her career going after those bastards on Miris V, the ones who'd killed his father and his wife.

She nodded. "Maybe. But you know me." She gave an exhale herself, and he could smell her relief and a tang of shaky fear and stress.

He let her go. "...alright. I've engaged in enough...whatever I just went through. Spirits of fire!" He shook his head, still in disbelief. "You are here, for Jack. Why?"

Shepard's face grew cold, angry. "Not many people know this, Kuril. But … the Broker is responsible for what happened to me. He set me up, set the Normandy up. Got my crew killed. And he was going to sell my body to … certain parties."

She looked up at him. "Liara and my friends went to stop him, and Tetrimus Rakora killed them."

Kuril snarled. "That sirefucking traitor. Is there no end to his filthy dishonor? Murderer of children, dark sneak thief..."

She gave a flat smile. "Since he's a powerful biotic, I need an edge. From what I've been told, Jack's biotics are unique."

He gave an ugly bark of laughter. "Jack's biotics are dangerous. She can do things I've never even heard of, twist attacks back on themselves, warp biotic fields like blowing bubbles. But she's...unstable. Violent, bitter, hateful. Scared and scarred, full of unspent rage. She's not someone you can rely on when things are bad, Shepard."

The woman shrugged. "The ever-fucking Council isn't going to listen. The Alliance may have been in on my death. I'm not even going to consider going to the other races. There's no one to help me but myself and the people backing me, and they aren't exactly … wholesome themselves. I don't care if she's goddamned crazy – I need her help."

Kuril sighed. "I'm certainly being paid enough to do it. The Deathwatch sent her here. I suspect that they plan to take her back whenever they get around to being ready to study her, cut her up in some lab. I'm surprised they haven't checked on her already, but the troubles in the fallout after the Batarian Incident have kept them busy. You're probably saving her life by taking her away."

He exhaled and took a step back. "Just...be careful. She's the meanest handful of violence and hate that I've ever encountered, and I've seen more than a little."

Shepard only tapped her helmet control, the mirrored faceplate sliding back to cover her features, her voder altering her voice once more. "Well, good. Exactly what I'm looking for."

Kuril sighed. "She's currently in recovery, with a full squad of my best men. I'll go see what the progress is like and have them bring her here." He paused, looking her over again, and then shook his head. "I still can't believe …"

He straightened. "I presume you want me to keep this quiet?"

She nodded, and he gave her a turian honor salute. "My silence is my word. Be back in a bit." He stalked off, out of the bay, and Shepard let out a long exhalation of breath.

Miranda looked at her, speaking quietly. "I know that couldn't have been easy for you, but we will need as many non-human voices with no ties to Cerberus backing you up when this all goes public, Shepard."

The armored figure nodded. "I know. It's just...hard. And sooner or later one of the people I know and care about is not going to believe me. Who will it be? Ash? Jackson? Jiong? Wrex?" She grimaced.

The Cerberus officer gave a careful shrug. "I would say that it doesn't matter if they believe you or not. You are Sara Shepard, and anyone who won't admit to that is not likely to be on your side in any event. Not to put too fine a point on it, but frankly the threat of the Collectors and Reapers is more important than if certain people don't wish to face reality."

Shepard chuckled. "You're a bitch sometimes, Miranda."

The black-haired woman suppressed a tiny flash of hurt and sniffed. "So I have been told."

Shepard turned to face her squarely. "But you're also right. I'm just not … handling this well."

Miranda's features softened slightly. "And I'm sorry if I came off as insensitive. I know that the few people you trust and hold faith in are important to you, and I don't want to make it seem as if this issue, and your feelings on it, are trivial." She tried for a small smile. "But if these people really are your friends … you may simply be worrying about an event that will never happen."

She glanced around the cavernous hangar bay. "As for this transfer...are you sure you trust Kuril? Capturing you would certainly give him a lucrative bounty once your identity was revealed."

Shepard laughed out loud. "What, is he gonna take away my guns and invite me into a cell? He's not nearly that stupid, even if he was inclined to sell me out. I saved the lives of some of his family, and turians place a high importance on that kind of thing."

Miranda frowned. "But is he not also an outcast?"

Shepard shrugged. "Yeah, but from what I understand that was his choice. His wife and his father were killed by slavers and the Hierarchy did nothing...he couldn't accept that."

Miranda nodded. "I see. I don't mean to sound doubtful, it is just this entire operation … well, it's somewhat risky, in my opinion. Jack is unlikely to be overjoyed to work for Cerberus, given her background."

Shepard gave her a sidelong look. "You think I'm happy 'bout it either?"


	17. Arc II: Down Back to Zero

_**A/N**:  
_

_I was challenged to make Jack ... similar and yet different. I will reserve judgement on whether or not I have succeeded by the replies to this chapter, which is either one of my best...or worst.  
_

_Jack isn't a character I was particularly fond of in the games and I've tried my best to make her situation here both different and meaningful. That being said, she has a lot of commonalities with my Shepard. You can draw your own inferences.  
_

_I'm indulging MonkeyEpoxy with more quotes from Benezia._

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. _

* * *

_'The guidance I am most often asked to provide is how one should deal with privation and loss. I could offer trite bits of wisdom, pithy exclamations that sound fair to the ear yet fall empty upon the soul. Instead, I will give the answer my own mother told me. To grow in life requires suffering. One must simply identify the people it is worth suffering for in order to find the strength and will to endure. To avoid suffering is to avoid the lessons the universe teaches us, an act of hubris that has undone countless fools.'  
_

_Matriarch Benezia T'Soni, 'No Single Raindrop Blames Itself For The Flood'_

* * *

Pain was the first thing she remembered and felt. Pain, and cold, and hunger.

Sounds came into her ears, but they were all blurred; shifting tones of garbage noise that babbled in sharp, growling clicks. A heavy, ponderous weight filled her head, her body.

Fragments of old memories, disjointed, full of sound and darkness, blasted through her skull, making it feel swollen.

She wanted to go back to sleep. She curled instinctively into a ball, or tried to. Her muscles didn't want to work, spasms of pins and needles wracking her with more pain.

A sharp, pricking sensation stabbed at her left arm, and sudden fire raced through her system.

Jack gasped, eyes opening while her body arched and shuddered. She fell back onto the uncomfortably firm medical table, as the turian cryotech flicked the used syringe into a bio-hazard bin and stepped back.

Another turian slapped something cold and plastic onto her arm. "Prisoner 24601, do you understand me? Nod if you are unable to reply verbally."

Rather than answer, she growled. She flexed her muscles, feeling for her power, and found the well empty. Her body felt slack, weak, sick. She lifted her head with some effort, glancing around.

The room was drab gray, each corner taken up with a powerful ceiling turret, each pointing triple barrels dead at her. Four turians in heavy riot armor and stun-sticks surrounded her at a distance, behind the two techs. The pain in her head sharpened, clarified into the burning ache of pulse dissipation devices, phase disruptors and whatever other techy bullshit they used to keep her from her biotics.

She was naked, natch. At least Kuril's pack of assholes wasn't likely to fucking rape her. Probably. They might still be pissed about the guards she'd killed before they put her on ice, after all.

"Prisoner 24601, you have been awoken from cryosuspension. You have been under for more than a year. Indicate you can hear and understand me."

She glanced at the turian who spoke with a scathing glance. "Fuck _off_." Her voice came out dry and scratchy.

The turian tapped his commlink. "Warden, prisoner is conscious. Vitals are shaky but stable." He listened to something for several seconds, then nodded. "Understood, cera." He clicked off, gesturing to the other tech.

That turian pulled out a small dufflebag. "Prisoner 24601, you are being released from the Purgatory Unit into the custody of a third party. Our understanding is that you are to be set free. We have already been paid. As of now you have no monetary value to us – start anything and you will be killed. We have injected you with a substance that nullifies your biotics, this entire section is suppressed against biotics, and we have clear orders that you are to be shot until dead if you so much as move wrong. Am I clear?"

She glared hatefully at the turian, then spat on the floor. "Yeah, real clear. You gonna give me something to wear or do I go shake my tits at whoever is here to pick me up?"

The turian tossed the bag onto her lap. "With the exception of your omni-tool, bio-amp, and weapons, these were the belongings you had upon capture. You will be taken to another room to shower, dress, and comport yourself before transport." The turian gestured, and the far door into the room opened, two more turians flanking a heavyset krogan with a blue-white crest and a scarred muzzle pushing a lift chair.

She sneered. "I can fucking walk." With a grimace she slid her ass across the metal table, feet slapping against the icy cold tiling of the floor. Agony like hot fire raced up her legs and she almost collapsed, swaying and blinking back sudden tears of pain as she gasped.

A moment later a rough push had her seated in the chair, knocking the breath out of her, and her bag was placed none too gently into her lap. She blinked back the pain as the tech spoke to the krogan, his voice low and cold.

"Get her moving. Kuril's got the hangar bay on lockdown but the rumor is the Butcher is here for her. Quicker that psycho – and this one – are off the station, the better."

Whispers exploded around the room as the krogan turned the chair around and pushed her out. She glanced around sourly, the corridor beyond the room she'd awoken in just as drab. Heavy pipes coated in dripping condensation lined the ceiling, while electrical shunt boxes and other baroque machinery jutted from the walls here and there.

The lift chair moved silently over the metal decking past several doors, and Jack bit her lip. "Who the fuck is this Butcher guy?"

The two turians following the krogan said nothing, but the bigger alien gave a nasty, grating laugh. "Heh. You've been on ice a long time, that's alright. Butcher is the scariest bitch in the entire fucking galaxy right now."

Jack snorted. "You fuckers forget how bad I tore your asses up already?"

The krogan's laugh was louder. "Not at all. But the Butcher makes you look like a fucking volus, kid. You ever deal with the Umlor Pirates?"

Jack's eyes closed. "Yeah, more than once, the fucks."

The krogan's growling bass held a note of reluctant awe and something else. "Yeah well. The Butcher killed them. _All_ of them. Didn't even take her a fucking month." Another chuckle. "Who could have thought asari got that angry?"

Jack swallowed, leaning back. She wasn't stupid. Uneducated, yeah. Not much chance of that when you're running for your life from place to place, after all. But not stupid. Whatever she and the rest of the Blade of Eris had gotten themselves into, they'd pissed on the wrong mushroom patch.

She remembered the black-armored turians cutting her gang down like they were nothing. She'd killed more than a few of the fuckers, but there were so many, and they weren't pirates or slavers, but some kind of special forces soldiers. Nilor... the ex-Corsair captain had died saving her life, and then she'd been taken out.

And then she woke up in prison. There wasn't much reason for her to be the only survivor of the attack, unless they were planning something else for her. She'd taken a few weeks to figure that out, then tried the time honored tradition of suicide by cop.

If she was going to die, dammit, it wasn't going to be on some chop-shop table. She didn't survive being a lab rat just to go back to being one.

They'd put her on ice, rather than kill her – and now she was being let go? Given to some asari nut called the Butcher who killed slavers?

She never got a break in her bad luck, and she didn't think that would change now.

The krogan stopped at a doorway, and one of the turian guards pushed it open while the other one continued to cover her with his rifle. She was almost amused at the way they were making sure she couldn't get up to any shit.

Still, Purgatory had a rep. A hard rep – no one ever escaped alive, and killing a guard meant you were in for a long, hard beating that would make you beg for death and never get it.

She'd killed _two_ of the fuckers, wounded a dozen more. That brought a smile to her face, but gave her another thought. They'd said they had her shit, except her gun, bio-amp and omni.

"Where's my bio-amp?" Hers had been surgically implanted, not designed for removal. They had thought – stupidly – the suppressor collar and phase disruptor devices in the general prison block would control her, not understanding she wasn't a normal biotic.

The krogan grunted again. The room was a plain box, with a long shelf on one wall, a small shower unit in the corner, a mirror and sink, and a thin, gray mattress on a bunk rack. Yet another turret bulked in the corner of the room. "Surgically extracted. The Butcher was given that, and your other stuff."

He brought her to a stop in the middle of the room before engaging the brakes on the chair and lifting, unceremoniously dumping her onto the floor. "Might take a bit for the cryosickness to wear off. The Warden will be around in a bit."

He backed out of the room, turians covering him, and Jack sat up in time to spit in his direction as the door shut. "Fuckers."

It took her a good five minutes to struggle back to her feet and be able to stand, biting back tears of pain the entire time. She'd been through a lot of pain in her past, but every muscle felt like it was jelly, and her stomach was empty and hurting.

She opened the bag they'd given her, half expecting to find her shit ruined. Instead her clothes were there – skin-tight black leather armored pants, battered old steel-toed shitkicker boots, and a strip of black gauze for her chest. Her combat jacket was a bit tattered in a few places, the crimson leather still glossy for the most part, but Jack saw they'd ripped the stims and knife she'd sewn into the lining out of the jacket.

A small, battered black case held her tattooing equipment, and her battered journal was there as well, the scan-strip lining sealing it shut showing that it had not been opened. She sighed in relief at that, she didn't need fuckers going through her thoughts.

She laid that all on the counter, before upending the bag on the bed. A pair of socks was still tucked into the boots, and a pair of ration bars fell out of the bag, as well as a roll of black gauze, but that was it.

She paused for a long second. "..._great_. Goin' commando."

She got dressed with a grimace, after scarfing down the two ration bars. She was surprised Kuril, or whatever asshole pulled her shit together, had enough fucking brains to toss those in, but the fact was she was straight starving to death. She pulled on her clothes, binding the gauze over her breasts tightly enough so they didn't sway but still leaving the vast majority of her ink on display.

She swallowed as she pulled on the jacket Vinis had gotten her, still remembering the stupid expression on her face when she'd handed it to her. God, why did it all seem like that had happened so long ago?

Vinis was dead, cut in half by an omni-axe. The two drell girls, Bi and Lo, shot to pieces by assault rifles. Vakis, hit with plasma fire. Toras, shotgun to the head. Karl, Dennis, Gracie... the whole unit had been fucking executed so fast she didn't even have time to get off barriers. She'd never even got to see how Morris, Taleth and Jessica bought it, and Captain Nilor...

She exhaled away the pain. She didn't have time for memory, shit made you weak. She walked to the sink, splashed water on her face, and examined herself in the mirror.

Her face had grown thinner, the cheekbones more defined. She wondered if you aged in the cryo or not, and then shrugged it off. Pulling the jacket on and flexing into it, she picked up her tat kit and journal, tossing them into the slender pouch on the back of the jacket.

She didn't bother with a fucking shower. She'd already learned her lesson about that shit her first week on Purgatory, and shit, if this Butcher blue didn't like her smell she could deal with it. She turned her thoughts to that, interrupted by the heavy knock on the door.

It slid open a moment later, revealing the large frame of Warden Kuril himself, flanked by two more turians holding shotguns. "Hello, Jack. Figured we'd have a little … talk, before I turn you over to the person picking you up."

She sneered. "The Butcher, right?"

The warden flicked a mandible, eyes narrowing. "Your guards must have had loose mouths. No matter. Yes, the Butcher is here to pick you up. She has a task for you." He sighed. "A violent one, no doubt, involving a _massive_ amount of killing – something you will probably enjoy."

Jack's own eyes narrowed. "And why the _fuck_ are you letting me go?"

Kuril smiled. "I'm being paid. Money always makes things happen." He met her gaze squarely. "I usually don't bother discussing this with inmates, since most of the … beings … I house are walking excrement. I hate slavery, and in my own way, my incarceration for cash of various criminals and malcontents, I am no better than they. The irony of the situation is not lost on me."

He gestured with a hand to the surroundings. "Very nearly every last one of the vile monsters on this station in my care belongs here. Slavers, rapists, murderers, clone-leggers, so-called 'political activists' whose only acts are anarchy and death. None of them are redeemable, none of them deserve the chance to be redeemed, and I'd space the entire lot of them if they were not making me money I use to stop more of the bastards and undo some of their evil."

He glanced back at her. "You, on the other hand … do _not_ belong here."

She frowned at this statement. "You coulda fooled me, with the way you locked me up and took the money of who ever hit my crew, not to mention letting me get fucking raped."

His mandible flicked again. "I would say I am sorry, but those are meaningless words. I thought you might like to know that the inmates who did that, and who survived your payback scheme were introduced to the airlock. But I digress. You and your people killed slavers. I won't say you were upstanding souls or a credit to whatever passes for a meritocracy among humans...but you were not the sort of filth that belongs here."

His voice hardened. "The group your little band of ex-Corsairs attacked was connected to, and probably staffed with, the turian Deathwatch, Jack. They were paying me a little bit of cash every month to keep you on lock-down until they were ready to investigate your biotics."

She felt icy hands trace along her spine. The goddamned Deathwatch. The most fucked up and terrifying turians in the entire fucking galaxy. "What the fucking shit, man? Why in fuck would turian special fucking forces be holding slaves?!"

Kuril's expression was hard to read, but he seemed amused. His voice certainly was. "You really have to ask that, Jack? You never struck me as stupid."

She swallowed back bile. Experiments. Sick shit. She could put the pieces together, yeah. "Figures. So if you get bank by holding on to me, why let me go?"

"Aside from the fact I am being paid far more to release you? Because as I said..." His voice flanged, with something like regret. "...you do not belong here. The Butcher has a more pure use for you. She is someone I have known a very long time, and while she can be very cruel and terrifying... she is not evil, and she will not tolerate evil. She will not stand by while others suffer, nor will she tolerate the sort of injustice that you and your people were trying to stop."

She lifted her chin. "...guard said she wiped the Ulmor Gang. That true?"

He nodded. "Yes. You will no doubt need to catch up on the news." He folded his arms. "I have done what little I could in your time here. You asked me why I didn't kill you for killing my guards. I told you that the day would come in which you would pay for their lives, once I figured out how to make the price appropriate."

He smiled thinly. "You were not the only survivor of your little raid. Three more of your people also were taken into custody."

Her eyes widened. "Where are they?!"

He gave her a fanged smile. "Two of them are dead, Jack. Two, to match the men you cost me. And this is my final lesson to you, human. You think that because you have suffered, that because you have lost, that you are entitled to act as you see fit. But there are always consequences to every action. Those guards had families. They had people who cared for them. They were only trying to do a job, and instead of letting them do it, you stole their lives from them."

She was shaking in rage. "You … you sick _fuck_..."

He shrugged. "Unlike you, they had actual crimes against their names. There's a reason your friends were EX-corsairs. And in any case, my morality is not under question, Jack. Those two would have lived if you had not decided to take the lives of my men. The Butcher is not even remotely as forgiving as I am, so I am giving you this warning. If you are foolish enough to hurt any of her people the way you hurt mine, she will kill you in ways I do not even wish to contemplate."

He jerked his head to the door. "She awaits. You will follow us and keep yourself civil, or the last one of your friends goes out the airlock. As soon as you are off my station... I'll see about letting the last of your group, one Jessica Yanor, go free."

She closed her eyes, fists clenched so hard her fingernails, ragged from her biting them off, cut into her palms. She exhaled and opened her eyes. "One of these days, Kuril, I'm going to come back and _kill_ you."

His drawling voice was amused once more. "You are always free to pounce if you feel like you're ready to ride the vakar, Jack. For now... we're done. So move." He pulled out a Sunfire pistol, gesturing sharply at the door even as he carefully stepped back out of range of a grab, the subtle whine as it powered up grating to her ears, and she walked.

The trip down the long, boring corridor towards the hangar bay was done in silence,

Jack's thoughts on her dead... acquaintances on her mind. She didn't call them friends. Friends just got you hurt, tore up. She'd only run with them because the cult thing didn't go through – well, that, and because they saved her life and broke her out of the fucking slave camp she was in.

Although damn, the cult did offer some mind blowing sex, even if they did turn out to be a bunch of assholes working for the Shadow Broker.

She had no clue where she was going in life, bouncing from fuckup to fuckup. She'd gone along with Toras, Captain Nilor and the Blade of Eris bunch because the purity of their hate for slavery resonated with her own past. She didn't believe in 'causes' or any of that shit – hell, she wasn't even in it for the fucking money.

She wanted to belong...and she never did. They themselves were fuckups, after all – as Kuril had pointed out, you had to be pretty shit to get thrown out of the goddamned _Corsairs_. She thought she might fit there. They'd rescued her and given her a goal of sorts, but she never belonged. She was just driftwood, running away from the ugly shit on Pragia...

Her mind flinched at the memory of it.

She could still see the two black-armored killers, stained with blood, executing the staff. The big black guy with a disgusted look on his face, electrocuting that sick fucking doctor slowly and painfully. Glancing over the other kids, shaking his head as he'd put them out of their shrieking misery with single pistol shots.

The Asian guy, the hot one, kneeling down to stare her in the eyes. "Pain is merely a method to measure how much payback is to be rendered back unto the world." The blood-slicked handle of the man's sword as he'd pressed it into her hands. "_Redeem_ your rage."

She'd stabbed and stabbed and stabbed the doctors who had tortured her, until she was covered in blood and bits of flesh, until her body was shaking, until she was sobbing and threw up. She remembered the big black guy picking her up and carrying her out of there, the gold and white hexagon on his armor.

The same one on the walls where they'd tortured her and the other kids.

Cerberus.

She exhaled shakily. Her life was fucked, and spending a year or more on ice was just more proof she had no fucking idea what she was doing. Still, she was free. She'd go along with this Butcher bitch until she saw the first open port, and then she was gone. Once she had her amp and guns back, they'd never stop her.

She'd find somewhere to belong, eventually. Or she'd die. Either way, she was doing it on her own fucking terms. She'd learned the hard way doing it on other people's terms just got you fucked over, figuratively and sometimes literally.

The corridor ended in a massive pair of reinforced doors which slid open with a low rumble, revealing the bay beyond. The two other turian guards turned away, falling back about twenty feet and not following them in. Kuril gestured her forward and she entered, the doors sealing closed behind her and the Warden.

The hangar was dominated by the flat-black and aggressive looking shuttle, trimmed in a burned orange that seemed familiar for some reason. Standing in front of it were two females.

The one on the left was some kinda supermodel bitch. Pouty, dick-sucking lips – Jack's own smiled at her own hypocrisy – and flouncy curves under thin armor that looked like some shit you'd see in a stripper's club on Military Appreciation Night. She was standing there, looking bored, with the same kind of arrogant look in her eyes that most of the people Jack hated had.

She hated this bitch already and didn't even know her name.

The other one…

Just standing there, clad in thick white armor, it was hard to make out anything. She was tall, that much was obvious, and definitely not a small girl. The armor was bulky but had enough curves to show she wasn't underdeveloped either.

The helmet turned to face her, a mirrored face-plate vaguely shaped like a skull, blank nothing reflecting the distorted image of her own face. The voice that emerged was deep, obviously modulated, and almost musing, but there was a faint hardness in it that spoke of complete, total, and almost disdainful confidence.

"I presume you are Jack?"

With a sour glance at Kuril, she stepped forward. "Yeah. You're the fucking Butcher?"

The figure inclined her head shallowly. "In the flesh. Has the Warden given you the rundown?"

She snorted. "Hell no, only that you're responsible for me not being an ice cube any longer."

The Butcher folded her arms. "There's lots to go over, but we'll do that in another... location. Short version. I plan to kill the Shadow Broker and I need your help."

The blunt admission floored her, and Jack narrowed her eyes. The Broker had been involved in the cult she'd been in, and behind the fuckers who'd thrown her in a slave camp and tried to capture her, before the Blade of Eris busted her out. She gritted her teeth.

"I got my own problems with the Broker, so don't see much problem with that. But that's some pretty big talk. Lots of people have wanted to off the Broker. I don't do suicide runs, and most people think they're harder than they are."

The Butcher's voice was amused. "I'm not most people, honey."

Jack felt her eyebrow arch. "Shit, you don't sound like a fucking asari. And I ain't your _honey_, bitch. Let's get one thing straight. You want me to kill, I'll kill, but I do it my way, my fucking rules. No one owns me."

Rich laughter spilled from the speaker on the Butcher's armor, while the pretty bitch next to her shot her a disbelieving, amused glare. The Butcher shook her head.

"We'll get along just fine, Jack. I get it. You've gone through some rough shit and you aren't gonna let anyone run over you any more, right?"

She folded her arms. "Fucking A. I don't care how fucking scary you're supposed to be. Once you give me my fucking amp, I'm the worst nightmare you'll ever see."

The bitch in tight armor covered her mouth as she chuckled, and Kuril burst into mocking, open laughter. The Butcher, for her part, only tilted her head slightly.

"...is that so?"

A good thirty feet separated the two of them, and Jack had just opened her mouth to retort when there was a blue flash. Agony seized her throat as she found herself dangling in mid air, a blue-glowing armored gauntlet wrapped around her throat, the Butcher's mirrored face-plate staring up at her.

She could feel pulsing waves of biotic power radiating out from this crazy bitch, strong enough to make her own nervous system vibrate, as the Butcher slowly brought her closer. "I'm sure whatever was done to you to make you a badass is pretty fucking impressive, Jack. I'm more familiar with Cerberus than you think."

Jack's eyes widened in shock, but the Butcher continued. "But if you ever fucking challenge me, amp or no amp, I will fuck you up so bad that pissing will be your highest goddamned achievement for the rest of your short life. If you work for me, I take care of you. No one can hurt you, and no one can kill you. But you do it by _**my**_ fucking rules, not yours."

With a casual flick, Jack was hurled a good ten feet away, landing on her ass, her tat kit and journal flying from her back pouch, the breath knocked out of her. The Butcher's voice rang out. "And just so you don't get any ideas, I'll be happy to put your on your ass with your amp in, too, once we re-install it. I've beaten the shit out of two Glorious batarians, honey. I can handle you."

The sheer brazen confidence shook Jack. God, she wanted to be able to have that so bad. She knew she was powerful, that whatever had been done to her had made Jack, in some ways, the ultimate biotic. Not only in power but in ability. But the Butcher's own confidence shook her more than a little. She couldn't let that shake her... but damn. Two Glorious batarians?

Wiping her mouth, she got to her feet, picking up her shit and sliding it back into her jacket. "...at least you aren't a fucking pussy."

The Butcher turned to face Kuril. "I think we're done here, old friend. Keep in mind what I said. I'll... need you when this all comes out."

Kuril gave a strangely shaky nod. "I... I will remember. The case I gave you has Jack's bio-amp and omni-tool, along with the two guns she was captured with. I'd appreciate it if you waited until she was gone to give them back. She's caused enough grief on my station."

The Butcher nodded, gesturing to the shuttle. "Let's go. The quicker we're back on my ship, the quicker we can get your amp back in and let you know what is going on. Also, a meal."

Jack bit her lip, but had no real choice. "Whatever. I could dig some grub."

The other woman touched her omni and the shuttle hatch popped open. The Butcher tossed something to Kuril. "In case you need me. The money should have already hit your accounts, but... if you need anything – "

Kuril nodded. "... I will keep it in mind. Go. And by the spirits, girl, be more fucking careful. You put me through this shit again and I'll kill you myself."

For some reason that made the Butcher laugh. It was a surprisingly bright sound to Jack's ears, but had a ring of pain to it. "Maybe later, old man."

Jack got into the shuttle behind the other woman, glancing around. It was spacious on the inside, more flat-black décor, a rack of rifles on one wall, leather couches fore and aft. A moment later, the Butcher got in, sealing the hatch and sitting opposite Jack. She tapped something on her armor. "Vigil, get us back to the ship, please. Inform TIM we've picked up Jack and are proceeding to home base, then to Korlus as planned."

A smarmy, asshole-sounding voice rang out. "Of course, primitive. We had an issue – Trellani messaged that she was encountering additional resistance on Bekenstein. Mr. Taylor was dispatched with a group of mechs and a battle-suit to provide additional backup, since it was not thought his assistance would be missed on Korlus given its tight confines."

The Butcher glanced at the other woman. "Miranda, what's going on with Bekenstein?"

The woman named Miranda gave an elegantly casual shrug, her voice clipped and precise enough to make Jack hate her more. "I'm not entirely sure. Ms. Goto was engaged in some form of operation there, something... TIM... thought would be of use to us. Matriarch Trellani was dispatched to provide assistance in this, but open combat was not part of the concept."

The Butcher nodded. "Should we reroute?"

Miranda shook her head. "Jacob is more than capable of handling any issues." She glanced at Jack. "You may wish to... reveal yourself."

"Oh, right." The Butcher glanced at Jack. "You know who Sara Shepard is?"

Jack's face fell. "Yeah. Baddest bitch back in the day." A sad smile twitched across her lips. "Gonna sound fucked up, but she was kinda my hero. Came from dogshit, made herself famous and rich, and put the boot in slavers and fucking assholes. No one believed in her and she still saved the fucking galaxy and all that shit."

Her voice soured. "And then of course, she got fucking killed. Kinda turned me off of heroes." She frowned. "Why the fuck you care? You think just because you call yourself 'Butcher' you're like her?"

The Butcher stared at her for long seconds, before shaking her head. "You could say that."

Jack felt herself get uncharacteristically angry. "Bullshit. You're a fucking asari. The fuck you know about suffering? About coming from jack shit nothing? Eating out of garbage cans, dusting just to you can forget you're fucking starving?"

The Butcher lifted her hand to her armored collar, tapping a control there. The face-mask split down the middle, the helmet sliding back in multiple pieces to reveal her face.

Black, straight hair framed the brown-skin, the strong jaw. Cool blue eyes met hers, surprisingly open.

Shepard's voice was almost sad. "More than you might think, Jack."

**O-TWCD-O**

By the time the shuttle docked with the Normandy – a fairly short trip – Jack had recovered at least a little bit of her equanimity. Most of the trip was spent with Shepard giving her a quick run down of their overall goals – stop the Collectors, figure out their plan, blow them up, and kill the Broker and his flunkies.

Shepard had kept her tone casual, and Miranda had mostly kept silent, but the situation was still more than a little tense. Being told about their mission – and who they worked for – had set Jack off again, but it was a curiously muted anger.

Jack's history with Cerberus was vile... and ambivalent. Shepard had read the file, and for once she actually believed it when Harper claimed Williams had been the one to go too far. Harper's own personal assassins had been the one to free Jack, clean her up, and let her go, but Jack still clearly held a lot of anger and frustration about her past – she had no idea who her family was, or if she'd been abandoned or stolen. She had no background and by all reports the cell who had been doing the work on Jack and other biotics had deliberately destroyed any such information.

It had been Miranda who'd pointed out Cerberus had done what it could over the years to make up for their mistakes, but Jack was – for obvious reasons – unimpressed. She didn't like the idea of being being around the same organization responsible for her problems, much less working for them.

Shepard had interjected. "You don't work for them, Jack. You work for me. I'll tell you the same thing I told that Illusive fucker and my own marines. I work with him, for as long as he's fucking useful. The first moment he lies to me, or I catch him pulling some bullshit like cutting people up or using them for lab rats, I'm going to kill him and all of his fucking lackeys."

Jack had stared at her a long time, some desperate emotion in those wide, pretty eyes, before her face sneered. "I'm gonna hold you to that, Shepard. Just because I used to look up to you don't mean I'm gonna lick you off and be your fucking fan-girl. I got my own issues and... shit."

Shepard was hard pressed to keep a smile off her face. Jack's foul-mouthed defiance and fire was like watching herself if she'd never been further warped by the Tenth Street Reds. She was an oversexed, arrogant, ill-mannered foul-mouthed little bitch.

Just like Shepard had been.

Just talking to Jack had taken her whole mentality back to those days. It was a weird emotional state to be in. Even so, Shepard wouldn't have Jack change a thing. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling the emotional stress of the day in her mind if not her body.

Miranda had been highly concerned with Jack's attitude, but Shepard had waved her concern away. Speaking very quietly in the pilot's cabin while Jack scarfed down an MRE on the shuttle, she let her voice convey her displeasure. "Look, Miranda. Please don't take this the wrong way, but you really _can't_ understand her. She and I came from the same kind of... hell. A hell where your very life, your existence, didn't even mean shit."

Miranda folded her arms. "I understand that, although I freely admit my empathy for such situations would be theoretical. All I am saying is that she's clearly far more unstable than we thought and dangerous. She killed two of Kuril's men and literally butchered a group of inmates who raped her."

Shepard shrugged. "I'm sorry, Miranda, but did you or did you not go through my fucking memories and read about my past? You know exactly what I did to the sick fucks who used me in that fashion, and those who recorded and transmitted the sex shows. Am I supposed to fucking castigate her for killing some guards when I shot up a dozen cops myself?"

She sighed. "Jack is what she is. Changing her has to come from something she decides on, not some external bullshit. As long as Harper doesn't antagonize her or do some stupid shit, we'll be fine. You've got your issues, she has hers. I'm not going to judge her on that any more than I do you. Like I said...it's what you bring to the fight, not what you used to be that matters."

Upon arriving back aboard the Normandy, Shepard had ordered Joker to make best speed to the base and lead Jack down to the living area. "Right now, the ship is almost empty. A pair of engineers – two humans and a quarian – make up the engineering staff. One asari doctor. Ms. Lawson, who you've met, and Mr. Taylor, a former Alliance soldier, who's away from the ship right now. Some marines, who won't bother you much."

Jack had sneered at the clean and neat bunking area. "This ain't my speed, Shepard. I don't like being around people much."

Shepard shrugged. "I kinda figured that. Did some looking around the ship when I got on board. Come on." She lead the girl down the elevator to engineering, past the outer isolation doors, and then down the staircases that flanked access to the primary eezo control chamber. The space was cramped and dark, but solidly built with heavy cover everywhere and off the beaten path.

"I tried to think about how I would have felt as a Red in your situation. You've been through some shit, and it's going to take time for you to get used to being around people again. " She gestured. "This is the most isolated place on the ship. I strongly doubt anyone will ever need to come down here except maybe one of the LOKI bots to do maintenance."

Jack glanced around. "...yeah."

Shepard let her weight fall back on one hip. "You don't have to live down here, you know. God damn I used to be just fucking like you. Worried the people behind me were sizing me up to knife me for creds, or the sand I'd scored, or to rape me. Or worse."

Jack sneered. "Shit, what's worse than that?"

Shepard's lips twitched downwards. "I don't have the scar anymore thanks to fucking Cerberus, but I had to fight off a pair of chopshoppers doing some organ harvesting when I was fifteen. Left a gash where they tried to cut my fucking kidney out."

Jack swallowed, worrying at her soft lips with her teeth. "_Shit_, man, that's..." She shook her head. "Okay, I get it. You went through what I did, or worse. So you should fucking understand!"

Shepard folded her arms. "I understand that isolating the fuck out of yourself only means you have no one to have your back when they really do come for you. This isn't the goddamned arcology, though." She leaned forward. "I've been _there_, the worst parts of _there_, and then sunk lower than that. Something in me snapped one day and said 'no, no more of this bullshit'."

She smiled. "Something snapped in you, or you'd have been doing stupid shit like robbing and killing people, blowing up ships for kicks and dusting up instead of rolling with ex-Corsairs to free slaves and hurt slavers."

Her voice hardened. "Just because you had to become a hard bitch doesn't make you a bad person, Jack. And just because you've had bad people in your life doesn't mean everyone is bad."

The younger woman swallowed, but her eyes and jaw spoke her defiance. "Easy for you fucking say. You didn't have shit in your head that someone had fucked with to mess you up."

Shepard shook her head. "I didn't get chipped but I had … alterations. To make me a more lively fuck when the bastards who held my contract liked transmitting a thirteen year old getting gang-banged by six or seven guys. I got enough bad shit in my head that it once killed a goddamned asari who linked with me."

She pushed off the wall, stepping back. "I'm not here to compare who has the most sad-sack story time, Jack. I'm letting you know I get it. I don't give a shit about your mouth, or how you dress, or if you call me 'ma'am' or 'cunt'" Her voice hardened. "But I expect you to pull your fucking weight, and you'll have to interact with the other people I bring on sooner or later."

Jack sneered. "More Cerberus assholes?"

Shepard gave her a look. "Do I look fucking stupid? The only Cerberus on the boat is Miranda. The rest of them are either my own fucking people from the Alliance, or people Cerberus hired up specifically for this gig – and they answer to me. The Illusive Man can go eat a fucking dick if he's stupid enough to think I'm going to let him station his people on my ship."

Shepard grimaced. "Anyway, once we get back to base I'll have my people throw a cot and a secure locker down here. Come with me."

Jack looked around the small area and shrugged. "Where now?"

"My quarters, You need a fucking drink and a shower."

Jack raised both eyebrows. "You comin' on to me, Shepard? I know I'm hot, but I figured you swung for blue."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Bitch, please. If you rode this pony you'd break your goddamned spine. No, my shower is the only one on the ship isolated and where no one can get in. We'll drink, talk about some shit I need to know – but first you can shower while I stand outside my quarters making sure no one fucks with you."

Her voice dropped. "I... remember what it was like. Like I said. I get it."

Jack gave a shaky little exhale. It was hard having someone fucking care, or even pretend to care. She felt herself get angry at that. "Why does it fucking matter t'you anyway, huh?"

Shepard lead her up the stairs, and glanced over her shoulder at her. In the dim lighting, her cybernetic eyes glowed a dim pale red. "I won't lie to you Jack – I honestly have problems right now caring about...anything. Everything that made my life worth fucking living is gone, and I can't ever get it back. I'm an undead fucking zombie, some jacked up version of the fucking Crow out to kill those who have to be killed."

Her voice softened. "But I used to wish, back in the bad old days, I used to wish so bad someone gave a shit about me, and I figure you aren't much different." She swallowed. "The guy I wish was my real dad instead of the fuck who sold me told me being nice never costs you anything, but is priceless to the people who need it."

She continued up the stairs. "Plus, you smell like ass. Cuts down on the so-called sexy of yours."

Jack followed her. "Bitch."

**O-TWCD-O**

Cerberus planned for everything, as Jack found out. Shepard had laid out black-ripstop pants, clean black socks, and a plain black t-shirt that fit her on her couch after stepping out and leaving Jack to get showered.

And panties. Commando hour was over at last.

Shepard's 'quarters' were fucking palatial, at least by starship standards. Jack glanced around the cabin, seeing nothing personalized about it yet. A fish-tank – empty. A bed – unused. Empty bookshelves. A terminal not even hooked up to the ODN.

With a sigh, Jack stripped out of her old clothes. The pants she could do without, and she had a roll of more black gauze to wear instead of a shirt, but the jacket was the only thing she really wanted to keep a hold of. With a shrug she stuffed everything else into the recycler, carefully hanging the jacket on the back of Shepard's desk chair, and then stepped into the tiny bathroom.

The water was hot and clean, and Jack let it soak into and hammer her slim form as she let her head rest against the cold, silvery metal of the stall. She was in some serious shit now.

There was probably still a way out of this. Play along, until they went somewhere open and with lots of people, and slip away in the confusion. She could do this.

But she could also stay. Jack would never admit it, but she used to read and watch so much about the Butcher of Torfan it wasn't even fucking funny. Watching her tear through her enemies, smirking and walking along like a pissed off lady panther. Telling the entire galaxy it could fuck itself, and never backing down from shit.

When Shepard had been rewarded for her acts and made a noble, and then married that asari girl, Jack had actually cried in happiness. She laughed at herself now, a sort of hiccup, at how stupid she was.

There were probably a lot of little girls like her, abused, shat on, used up, who felt the same way. But they weren't Shepard. No one else was, and no one else could be. She blew out another shaky breath, scrubbing herself clean, washing away the last traces of that fucking Purgatory shithole.

When she was dressed – she had to admit, the pants fit better than her own and the socks were comfy – she hammered on the door. "Hey! Break out the fucking drinks."

Shepard walked back in, arching an eyebrow at the fact Jack had simply wrapped herself in fresh gauze rather than wear the t-shirt. "You showing off your tits or your tats?"

Jack tilted her head with a grin. "Maybe a little of both? You like?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "The ink is .. interesting. Ink always tells a story, but yours looks pretty long. All of mine is gone, burned the fuck up when I died. They were nice enough to give me back my Reds tat, flag, but that's it."

Jack sat down on the wide leather couch as Shepard rummaged in the small food unit next to her bed and then tossed her a flask. She caught it, turning it over in her hands – strong scotch. With a shrug, she uncapped it and took a swallow, grimacing a little as it left hot slow warmth down her body. "So why am I here?"

Shepard pulled out a pair of glasses with ice in them and put them down on the table, before opening another bottle and pouring. "As you can imagine, Miranda had some kind of idea about an 'in briefing'. You know, sitting in a chair, hearing about the Cerberus Way of Life, the Goals of the Mission, Humanity, blah, bleh."

Shepard pulled a face and despite herself Jack had to laugh.

Sipping at her scotch, Shepard smiled back. "Don't misunderstand me. I like Miranda. In a way she's had it worse than us. Her story isn't mine to share, but she was... bred... to be a fucking tool, a throwaway tool at that – and then found wanting. She's got no sense of who she is... but she's trying."

Jack sniffed. She poured the scotch into her own cup, and shrugged. "Like I give a shit. She's a goddamned cheerleader."

Shepard shrugged. "She's got her uses. And... she's more human than the fucking Illusive Man, that's for sure. She was kind when she didn't have to be." She drank again. "Just remember the Cerberus fucks are the only people doing anything about all those missing colonists, rather than sitting on their asses plotting on how to use the situation for their own purposes."

Jack sourly considered that. "It... man, this shit is strong. Uh, it's really fucked up if fuckin' Cerberus is the good guys."

Shepard gave a short bark of laughter. "That was the first thing that hit me when I understood the situation." She shrugged. "Even so, I plan to drag people into this mess, and I need to know if they're really in for it, and what I need to do to convince them to come along – and that if Cerberus turns out to be bad, that they'll have no problems helping me clean house."

She met Jack's stare. "Harper has promised me whatever I need to get this job done. What I need... is revenge." Her eyes became cold, cruel. "I need blood, I need to find a turian and fucking kill him and pull him apart and smear his goddamned blood across my lips. And then find his boss, and skull fuck him with my shotgun. They took... " She exhaled. "Everything from me. Ship, career. Life. Wife. Family. _Everything_."

Jack leaned back, sipping at her own drink, eyes lidded. "That bl..that asari you married. Liara, right."

Shepard's nostrils flared at the name. "Yes."

Jack shook her head. "Broker killed her, you said?"

The cold blue eyes flicked up. "Yeah. And one of my best friends, and his wife. Killed my... father-in-law, so to speak. Killed a good fifteen members of my crew. And ultimately, is responsible for the fact that the man I look at like my father is locked in a fucking loony bin and the guy I called boss and respected is in fucking exile for life."

Shepard snarled. "So I'm a little pissed. That's my fucking motivation." She clenched and unclenched her fist, forcing herself to relax. "You – and the rest of the people I plan on having join up – don't have any connection to me. I figure everyone has something they need."

She stood, picking up a pack of cigarettes from her desk and lighting one. "So here's your chance. You want cash? Illusive man spent six billion bringing me back and acted like it was pocket change. You want freedom? He's got access to an AI that can reinvent your entire datasphere, make you a citizen of any place you want, set you up with any lifestyle you can think of. You want a fight? I'm going up against the craziest , sickest motherfuckers in the entire goddamned galaxy – and ultimately, against an enemy that will fucking kill everyone if I don't stop them. You want fame? Revenge?"

She leaned forward. "What do you want, Jack?"

The convict felt herself shiver from the intensity of that stare and the question behind it, before looking away. "Shit. I don't know. I want..."

_I want to belong_.

No, that was a pussified answer. And she didn't even know if it was the answer or just her own head fucking her game up.

She looked back up. "I want to be free. Where no one can … take shit away from me again. And I want to know who I should have been, before I got ... fucked over and out."

Shepard nodded. "Vigil."

The voice Jack had heard on the shuttle sounded again in the room, coming from nowhere in particular. "Yes, Shepard?"

She glanced up. "Make up your fucking mind what you're going to call me, shiny."

"Primitive, meatbag, potential future Reaper slushy – there are so _many_ appellations. How may I be of assistance, oh warrior of destiny?"

Shepard shook her head. "I should have left your ass on Ilos, I swear. Look, this is Jack."

A sphere of silvery metal appeared out of nowhere some three feet in front of Jack, making her jump. "Ah yes. The biotic experiment. Full name of record on several criminal databases Jacqueline Nought. Known aliases, Jump Zero Jane, Jo, Janeth. Posts rather emotionally charged if inelegant poetry on the extranet art site 'Unclear Ruminations' as SubZero. Wanted by the Hierarchy on charges of terrorism, murder, and dishonorable conduct. Also wanted by several bounty services, some Volus interests, and has additional bounties and posted contracts from actions taken while a part of the Zethreum Cult."

Jack's jaw hung open as the sphere pulsed. "I could go into further and more sordid details, but yes, Shepard, I am of course familiar with her. I know _everything_ after all."

Shepard rolled her eyes again. "I need to make her criminal record go away, entirely. Fix up her SA citizenship. Make the bounty bullshit vanish. And see if you can't figure out who her parents were."

The sphere pulsed a second time, and a second passed, before it spoke. "It will take some time to match her DNA against various databases in Alliance space – and I would caution you more than a third of all of your citizens do not have DNA information on file. Her criminal and bounty records have been expunged."

Jack's eyes were wide enough that Shepard wondered if they'd fall out of her head. "Thanks. You can go back and pester Joker now."

The sphere pulsed arrogantly. "What do you mean, 'Go back'? I am large. I contain volumes. I can hold a thousand conversations at the same time, and one of them is always dedicated to keep Joker's self esteem at the level of his intellectual capacity - that is to say, near zero.."

Shepard sighed. "I mean, get the hell out of here. Shoo."

The sphere gave a faint, irritated glow. "Reduced to a slave of an unstable, overly violent meat head... me! The pride of the Eternal Empire of the Holy Inusannon... " The sphere popped like a soap bubble, and was gone.

Jack slowly turned to face Shepard. "...what... the... fuck..."

**O-TWCD-O**

Traveling back to the base didn't take as long as Shepard expected. After a talk with Jack – from which she only took away that the girl was still in a bit of shock and not sure what the hell she really wanted, except more information about her past – Vigil was working on that much now.

Some of her past, of course, included Cerberus. Miranda had said she would pull all available data on the project that lead to her alterations and modifications, to see if anything else that would help Jack could be found out. The two women clearly did not like each other, but Miranda had clearly heeded Shepard's earlier words about the subject and was, surprisingly, not rising to Jack's baiting.

As usual, the system was clean of any evidence of habitation when they entered, although several of her fleet ships were cleverly tucked away in the asteroids with prepared firing solutions on most FTL entry points. As the Normandy lined up to dock with the base, however, Shepard was surprised to see a Cerberus-flagged shuttle in her docking bay.

She tapped her comm-panel. "Normandy to base. We're docking now. Do we have visitors?"

The hard, steely voice of Randall Ezno rang out. "Yes, we do, ma'am. Mr. Harper sent some people that your newest recruit might want to talk to."

Jack, leaning against the wall of the CIC, snorted. "Cerberus pukes? Fat chance of that shit." She looked disinterested.

Docking took only a few minutes, and Shepard lead Jack out via the drop ramp in the cargo bay. As they disembarked, Shepard arched an eyebrow at the two black-armored figures standing in her hangar, both of which turned in their direction as they reached the bottom of the ramp.

Jack had literally frozen in place, eyes wide, as the two approached.

"Hey, slant-eye, check this shit out. Little girl is all grown up." The bigger of the two figures, a heavily muscled black man with a wide grin on his blunt features, walked slowly forward. "_More_ than grown up."

The slender form of Kai Leng gave him a sidelong look. "Someone hasn't learned a lesson about calling me slant-eye, I see. Perhaps I should let her pick where I deliver the next reminder at on your body.." The glowing eye-shapes of his cybernetic mask fixed onto Jack. "You did not die. Have you redeemed your rage?"

Jack swallowed, saying nothing, and Shepard took a step forward. "Not sure who you two are."

Miranda, following, gave a sigh. "These... gentlemen... are Mr. Harper's personal troubleshooters. Theo Pellham and Kai Leng. They... ah, extracted Jack from the project she was being held at."

Pel glanced over Shepard, eyes narrow. "So you're the Grand High Imperial Badass we've been killing Broker fucks to keep safe all this time. Huh. Don't look like much."

Leng's whispery voice was dryly sarcastic. "You somehow manage to become _more_ idiotic every time you open your mouth. I seem to recall she _beat_ Saren while you were beaten like a child– "

"Shut your fucking mouth, Leng, or we'll bring up old girl Kae and how she owned your ass with your own knives."

The slender figure shrugged dismissively. "Hardly a threat. At least my tastes do not run to talk, dark and... _spikey_."

"Oh, it is **_ON_ **motherfucker!" The bigger man launched himself at Leng, who neatly sidestepped and tripped him, leaving Pel to sprawl on the floor.

Jack burst out laughing, drawing a surprised look from Shepard. "Oh, god, you two...still doing the same shit."

With a thinning of his lips, Leng turned to face Shepard more fully. "We have a connection with Jack. I am not a sentimental man, but I would appreciate a few minutes alone with her. Cerberus... is not a concept for the weak to embrace. She must understand its necessity."

Shepard frowned. "I don't understand its _necessity_."

Leng's head tilted. "Then you are lying to yourself. You are not blind enough to think this galaxy is driven by anything but hate and the pursuit of advantage in the weakness of others. Cerberus only acts in the way it must."

Pel levered himself to a sitting position, dusting himself off. "Well, now that we got the sick fucking assholes out of the Dog it does. Except Minsta." He looked up at Jack. "Kai's too goddamned stoic to say it, but it's good to see you, kid." He tilted his head. "Nice ink."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Jack, when you get done catching up with... whoever these two are... have them send you to Medical so we can get your amp in and make sure you're in good health. We'll be heading out in a few more hours, once another person who has joined up finishes up in medical. Vigil, if you call for him, can show you a place to rack out – this place is damn near empty too and we have a private room for you."

Jack nodded, still staring at Kai Leng. "Yeah, whatever. I got shit to talk about. I'll be around... later."

Shepard glanced at Miranda, who gave a carefully doubtful look, and she nodded. "Alright." She walked past the three of them, Miranda trailing, and waited until she got into the elevator to speak.

"That... was a little _strange_."

Miranda nodded quietly. "It was. I've had to work with those two for some time. They are... somewhat silly in their interactions, but otherwise extremely lethal. They were part of the team – and the only other survivors besides myself and Ms. Zorah – who recovered your body. They have always had a strange interest in Jack, one I haven't been able to get them to explain."

She glanced up at Shepard. "I will say they are extremely dangerous – they were battle associates of your mentor, David Anderson, as well as contemporaries of Admiral Ahern and General Florez."

Shepard frowned. "...I sometimes feel like a goddamned extra character in a book with all these older mysterious badass types floating around."

Miranda chuckled, then almost hesitantly patted Shepard's arm. "I would hardly call you an extra, Shepard." She glanced at her omni-tool. "It looks as if Mr. Harper would like a word with you. I'll monitor the situation with Jack and make sure she's ready to move out when it comes time to depart for Korlus."

Shepard smiled. "Thanks, Miranda."

The Cerberus officer shrugged. "Mr. Pressly has been... helpful... in understanding some aspects of secondary command management systems. He has a very organized and logical mind."

Shepard sighed. "I know. He thinks of everything." She paused. "Was it you who decided to bring Jack some clothing?"

Miranda glanced down. "...no, that was Mr. Pressly's idea."

Shepard grinned. "Like I said. He thinks of _everything_."


	18. Arc II: Baka Ninja Girl

_**A/N**:_

_I haven't done a perspective from the Council of Elderly Male Jackasses of Sol, so I figured a snippet of that would be interesting before moving into pre-Korlus. The speed of events will start to pick up now, as most of the backstory you need to know is (FINALLY) in place._

_Progman would claim I'm being too world-buildy, no doubt. _

_I'm glad to hear from some of you I haven't gotten reviews from in a while, like GalacticAlien. Please forgive me if I haven't replied to you review yet, as I'm...ugh, swamped with work and problems with my car and other crap. _

_I'm indulging MonkeyEpoxy with even more quotes from Benezia._

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. _

* * *

_'Balance is a concept many free-thinkers and philosophers like to delude themselves about, but it is often imbalance that results in motion, in action, in life. The balanced equation is equal, the balanced reaction inert. It is in the imbalances we find that which drives and catalyzes us. The more balanced a person becomes, I have found, the less likely they are to achieve that which they set out to do.'  
_

_Matriarch Benezia T'Soni, 'No Single Raindrop Blames Itself For The Flood'_

* * *

The sky was blackened by the vast bulk of an armada storm, a legacy of the harm visited by men upon their own world. Winds howled and lightning flashed as the storm lashed at the tower with radioactive dust and booming thunder, and were muted to mere vibrations by the thick walls of the towering construction of white and gold, and the force shields of the arcology.

The Chamber of Lords was only dimly illuminated by the sunlight managing to struggle through the storm, and a more superstitious person might take such a thing as an omen. Given the recent setbacks and other problems encountered in what had once been foolproof plans, such would not be out of place. But as Manswell Maxwell turned his gaze from the corrupted heavens to the ring of elegant, well attired men around him, his ancient features were instead graced with a faint smile.

The massive doors were sealed, the multitude of anti-spying devices engaged, and the layers of kinetic barriers glowed along the walls, worked into the mighty pillars that supported the hall's soaring roof as they protected the seat of Mankind's power. Given the topics to be discussed, the additional security of the storm, which would disrupt spy-beams and foil more elegant methods of eavesdropping, was a blessing rather than an omen.

The Manswell prince sat hieratically atop the dais at the center of the Chamber, a black woolen blanket over his knees the only acknowledgment of his age. The past two years had been unkind, and his strength was failing faster by the day in the public eye. His voice was frail but firm as he spoke, amplified by the small mic lead against his throat.

"We have much to consider this day, and none of it is good. You have seen the initial reports from the Ministry of the Interior. Expenses for NOVENSILES have hit well over two hundred billion, and the most recent runs have been complete failures. We simply do not have the technology to perform the recombination work, and our ETA has slipped again, to possibly as late as 2205."

The hard, sallow features of Sheik Abzrad al Saud tightened. "Many things we have been promised, Prince. Few have we seen thus far. Our patience wanes even as our skepticism grows, and now we are told there are further setbacks?"

Seated across from him, lounging with one leg flung over the arm of his chair as if a reprobate and swirling a glass of something dark in one hand, the elegant and debased features of Prince Reginald Eldfell twisted into a sneer. "Voyez : la gracieuse maison Al Saud nous démontre une nouvelle fois sa sagacité.." He sniffed. "You will, of course, pardon my incredulity at your gauche statement of impatience, maître des sables. I seem to have mislaid my comprehension of your investment into the plan."

He paused, sipping at his wine. "Oh yes, I recall now. You said it was stupid and unworkable until you received your share of the profits, and then you were effusive in your praises."

Manswell's eyes narrowed but he said nothing, instead shifting his glance to that of Emperor Nikoru Hirohito Yamato, who stood up with a polite expression. As he rarely spoke, when he chose to do so, most listened. "So sorry, but it would seem to me as if the situation is unchanged. While I... have reservations about the direction we have steered ourselves in, turning back now is unwise. The salarians and asari remain the same threat as ever, and this new horror – these Reapers – remain an even larger problem. Arguments about delays hide the issue we face – do we proceed with NOVENSILES or with ACHILLES?"

Duke Si Yon Chu scowled. "This is not the hour for hesitance, and to alter course at this late juncture seems unwise."

The Emperor's nostrils flared, his delicate features blank and impassive otherwise, his voice beautifully modulated. "So sorry, but this is the last hour to turn our path to one course or the other. If there are... delays in what we plan, then what better time to consider other options?"

Maxwell raised a shaky hand. "This is no time to debate such things, my brothers. Humanity's own ignorance of the darkness beyond is by our hands, for the best of reasons. I will not pretend that NOVENSILES is a reasonable or measured response. But the time for such things is long past. ACHILLES will start a war when we can least afford it – NOVENSILES will remain undetected for decades if we are careful."

Prince Charles Windsor gave a scowl. "The actions of Kyle, Shepard, and Anderson – and the escape of your pet lunatic Harper – would indicate that caution in such an assumption is warranted. Need I remind my august brothers of the stakes? Of the untold _billions_ we have poured into this project, only to have another round of failures?" His face soured. "Not to mention the human cost and what it means for our people."

Sheik Abzrad gave a hard little chuckle. "I complain because I have no faith in the projections, not because I have any hesitance about the ends. The _aljamahir al-qudhra_ concern me about as much as the sands outside my home do. There will always be more. The destiny of the great is to rule, of the lesser to serve, and of the least to obey."

Grand Kniaz Tuchenko Dragunov nodded, his cruel features tightening into a grin. "Well said. Some of the classics have the most pointed reminders of truth. You lot rarely indulge in fiction... but one thing I read in a book sums our situation nicely."

He leaned back, heavy black brows drawing down over equally dark eyes. "Summer is gone. Winter is coming. This is no time to hesitate over morals... or money. If we are unprepared the asari will break us as they have broken the turians – and if these Reapers are real... we need the advantages of NOVENSILES. By comparison, the... plague thing of ACHILLES only weakens us in the long run - the aliens will be useful in fighting the Reapers, after all, and cannot do so if they are all dead."

Duke Chu gave a shrug. "As I said, this is not the hour for hesitance. Sun Tzu said 'the worst calamities that befall an army arise from hesitation', and I tend to agree." He grimaced. "On the other hand, the report is... disturbing. The cold reality is that we will have to give consideration to tipping our hand to the quarians if we wish to continue with NOVENSILES – we simply don't have the technology needed to pull this off on our own. With ACHILLES, no such compromises are required."

Maxwell leaned back. "As loath as I am to admit it, Duke Chu is right. We have... spoken with this Admiral Daro'Xen. She is more akin to us than I expected. She is ruthless, driven, ambitious, and raises an excellent point – the quarians are the only aliens who would prosper more with us than against us."

Lord Jason Prescott Coleman, former Prime Minister, sneered. "I dislike working with gypsy aliens."

Maxwell inclined his head, strands of faint white hair occluding his flinty gaze. "I am not fond of the idea either. But we have little choice. The research we are conducting has many applications - with some alteration, it could be repurposed to fix the immune system and fertility issues of the quarians, and strengthen their own race. Their... investigation into the geth raises the possibility that one day they could regain control over their wayward servants, elevating them from merely useful to a true galactic power."

He smiled. "As such, our work with Doctor Archer on the geth programs on Horizon and Alte has already won her admiration. We can reap more benefits if we work with them than against them. And frankly, their ability to survive without a world may be useful if the Reapers are more than we can deal with."

He tapped his hand to his chair. "The Earth is broken." He gestured above, to the skies tormented by the huge storm cell. "An invasion and more damage will kill the planet. If all is lost, then abandoning that which is nonessential will require... significant effort – and significant ships. They are the most prepared at allowing us to survive such an apocalypse."

Coleman blew out air from his mouth, his patrician features sour. "Fine. How will we pay for this while building up the Solguard, the Fleet, and the Knights Irregular?"

Lord Baron Jonah Ashland spoke, his voice low and even. "If our investigations are correct, even if our new technology and upgraded fleets can withstand Reaper assault, the economy and other races will be smashed. Humans are an afterthought – what little we know suggests the Reapers will focus on the larger threats first. If we must, we can sell off technologies to the other races for the final cash flows needed – even the secrets of the hyperscoop technology. After all, if everything is to be destroyed, what point maintaining a monopoly?"

Chu winced, but nodded. "Let us hope it does not come to that. And how do the quarians fit in?"

Maxwell shrugged. "Daro'Xen feels her people's leadership is... weak. The time will come when we will aid her in rectifying that, and she will aid us. I fear we have been so inured to alien betrayal and depravity that we risk overlooking a race that might be actual allies to us. And we are not competitive – they cannot live on our worlds, or we on theirs."

He leaned back. "If in the aftermath of the Reaper invasion – whenever it comes – the humans and quarians stand ascendant, then we can at least put an end to the threat of the Thirty, the SIX, and the Council of Woe." His ancient features twisted into a smile. "And then... we shall have... _peace_."

There was a moment of silence before all fifteen of the High Lords engaged in soft, mocking laughter. Chu spoke. "Shall we vote? NOVENSILES, and the quarians? Or ACHILLES?"

There was a murmur of sound, and then each High Lord touched an omnipanel to their right from their comfortable, throne like chairs. Blobs of green accumulated, and only one vote was for ACHILLES.

Maxwell's smile widened. "Then the plan proceeds. Inform the Minister of the Interior we will have speech with him, and prepare a Red Note to the Senate to curtail further spending on environmental repair or investment in outlying colonies – refocus the money to defense, and move additional funds to our technology sharing with the quarians."

The heretofore quiet figure in white silk that was Engazi Mufune Ngubane finally spoke. "A final question, it comes to my mind. Cerberus continues to meddle. When will you dispatch Hades to destroy them?"

Manswell gave an irritated wave of the hand, but it was Chu who spoke. "Whatever Harper is up to, it appears to be focused on the Traverse. He is ultimately harmless. No one will listen to him, and now that the Council is aware of his activities, they will endlessly harry him. We have isolated most of our own economic inputs to avoid penetration by his... agents."

The African prince scowled. "But he still _knows_. And Harper is a spiteful man, if he reveals what he knows upon capture or an understanding that he is thwarted..."

Maxwell sneered. "He has signed his own death warrant by his... attachment to his asari whore. Trellani is someone the asari fear intensely, and they will not allow anyone she has allied with to survive. And even if he does reveal what he knows, what of it? Who would believe such a thing? The facilities are well hidden – all they will find out of sorts in the Black Zone is our Reaper research, and the Palavanus and Salarians are doing the same damned thing."

He paused, giving heavy, racking coughs, then continued. "...besides. Harper... is foolish enough, zealous enough, to die rather than risk humanity. He's convinced he has all the answers - but in the end he is merely another jumped up commoner with aspiration and ambition beyond ability – he won't risk everything out of spite."

Eldfell nodded sagely, sipping his wine. "A common failing of a common man. Les manants devraient se résoudre à leur lot, no?"

Coleman gave a sigh of disgust. "Is it too much to ask for English?"

**O-TWCD-O**

The Illusive Man's shimmering QEC image exhaled smoke, before his face was twisted by a very small smirk. "You were able to convince Jack to join us, I see."

Shepard stood in her office, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Wasn't that hard. I suppose you think it's cute how she's basically a younger version of me. You're pretty goddamned slick, I'll give you that."

Harper dumped his ashes. "Certain similarities did not miss my attention, that is true. I think you will find I've given careful thought to all of the people I've recommended you acquire. I believe Jack will be a very useful asset in your own endeavors. And your similarities, as they are, would seem to put you in a place where you could provide guidance and stability for the girl."

She snorted. "Like that was real high on your list of reasons why we needed to pick her up."

He gave her a rather hard look, a note of annoyance in his voice. "As implausible as you seem to think it is, I do take responsibility for what Cerberus has done. Much of what was done was necessary, no matter how much you protest."

He exhaled smoke, eyes narrowing. "But some acts were not necessary. Those actions taken in regards to Jack ruined a promising method of using biotics for humanity. They ruined a research corpus I spent a great deal of effort putting together and a large amount of cash. But they also ruined a number of children... and if you can help her, and make her an asset of humanity while redeeming my own mistake – I'd call that a win."

She narrowed her eyes. "Every time I think I have you down, you display the _tiniest_ bits of fucking humanity mixed with the most amoral bullshit and make me wonder just what the hell happened to you to make you this way."

He inhaled on his smoke again, eyes flat. "Shepard, you have a distressing tendency to assume I am something I'm not. Or that you have some... monopoly on regrets. I won't claim I undertake any actions out of the goodness of my heart." His voice took on the faintest tone of disdain. "And I hardly need to lecture you on the things that privation and a lack of concern do to the morality of those who grow up in such conditions."

She tilted her head. "Not to put too fine a fucking point on it, but what the shit would you know about that?"

His expression never wavered, but his voice sounded amused. "I was not always … at the status I am now. While I would never claim my early life was as void of human decency as yours, I had almost nothing to my name for many years as well." He puffed on the cigarette again. "I embrace elegance and luxury because reminders of such times does me little good. But I have no more forgotten the lessons of the streets any more than you... or Jack."

He puffed out smoke again, letting it wreathe his features. "We both know sometimes you simply have to take the action that keeps you in the game."

She glanced away. "I shouldn't have to justify my goddamned life by _street rules_, Harper." She pinched the bridge of her nose again, before angrily pulling out her own pack of cigarettes and lighting up.

He leaned back. "And that is your value to me, to Cerberus. You never let what you went through twist you."

Shepard gave a bleak, bitter laugh. "Ha. Don't be stupid, Jack. Of course I let it twist me. Shit, I let it ruin me and make me into what Ahern called an emo shitfaced clown. But someone made me move past that...and I'm just trying to remember what she said. What she showed me. What I finally understood."

She exhaled angrily. "Fuck. You didn't call me to debate goddamned morality or listen to me vent. She's on the team, and despite her mouth I can handle her. Next is Okeer."

He nodded. "Miranda provided an update about that – and your request for information regarding Urdnot Wrex. My penetration of Tuchanka is not as in-depth as I would like due to the interference of Eclipse, but he remains on the planet, engaged in organizing the krogan clans and focused on heavy warfare with Clan Ganar and its allies.."

Shepard exhaled. "I know we're tight on time, but I promised Wrex I'd stand with him to take down Okeer. I need to know if you can help me get to Tuchanka and pick him up."

He leaned back, sipping his drink. "Shepard, I don't need to tell you that Wrex worked for the Shadow Broker for quite some time, on and off, especially after the death of his son. I am uncertain of the context of said work, but if he has any loyalty to the Broker, then such a move might lead to your exposure – and exposing you to direct such scrutiny this early in the game is unwise."

Her nostrils flared. "You think he'd sell me out to the fucking Broker? You don't know Wrex very well."

He nodded, blue-glowing rings in his eyes tracking her as she began to pace. "Perhaps not. I could argue the same for you. Your connection – the salvation of his son at Torfan by yourself and Ms. Shields – no doubt won his gratitude. But that was a shallow connection at best."

She shook her head. "You wouldn't understand."

He shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I won't attempt to suggest that he is likely to actively betray you. But his association with the Broker remains... troubling, and there are still unanswered questions about his part in events. Namely, the only methods I can deduce by which the Normandy would have been brought down would have to involve some sort of active transmission that pinpointed the ship's location. The Broker's LINK technology – technology I believe Wrex placed aboard your ship – would have been the most natural place for such."

He put his cigarette out. "The report from the late Beatrice Shields indicated this was the most likely explanation for how your ship was destroyed. And even if Wrex is not inclined to notify the Broker, Tuchanka is not a stable environment … nor one that can be entered via stealth. The CDEM is under the control of Jona Sederis by Council fiat, but several Spectres have also been deployed to keep an eye on things. The Broker is hardly unlikely to leave such a situation... without a method to monitor it."

Shepard folded her arms. "You're saying I can't go pick up my friend? Okeer killed his goddamned _son_! He needs to be there."

Harper spread his hands. "I believe we had this discussion when I first awoke you, Shepard. I merely provide the means and the mission. How you go about things – I leave that to you. You've made it clear you don't take orders from me. But I would strongly suggest that there are few reasons for Wrex to meet your public persona, and Tuchanka is unlikely to have the privacy needed to reveal yourself. I can't stop you, nor would I try. I merely suggest it is a poor idea... and that krogan are never _sentimental_."

He sipped his drink again. "Assuming Okeer is involved, I cannot imagine Wrex being terribly displeased if you just bring along the skull of the good doctor when, in the fullness of time, you are ready to go to Tuchanka openly."

Shepard sighed. "Okeer is supposed to be a hard bastard to kill. I wasn't just going to bring him for fucking nostalgia, Harper – I might need the help."

The Illusive Man considered this a long moment. "We have little active intelligence on Korlus. One reason you are meeting Zaeed there is that the Blue Suns Legion Commander on the world, Jedore Kalsa, was one of Mr. Massani's strongest supporters. I'm hoping that the Suns will have more in-depth information - and provide additional firepower. That being said..."

He paused, lighting a fresh cigarette. "Aside from Doctor Solus, Okeer is the only source of direct intel we can locate regarding the Collectors, and he had interactions with both Saren and, it would appear, Ylana. His name is well known, and attacking him will almost certainly put the Broker on alert - not to mention the Collectors. Obfuscating who is behind killing him should be our priority. Between yourself, the assets you have on hand, and the assistance of Firestorm and Massani, Okeer should not require the assistance of a highly visible and famous krogan warlord. The less attention this trip attracts the better."

Shepard gave a disgusted sigh. "Fine." Her gaze hardened. "But I want some of your people on Tuchanka. Wrex is there, and so is Baby Blue. So many of my friends are dead – I'd like to know at least two more are okay."

Harper frowned. "I... will see if there are resources that I can utilize towards that. For the moment, let us concentrate on the goals at hand. Are there any other delays or complications prior to your setting out? Miranda's report also mentioned medical issues that were nearly resolved."

She nodded. "Miranda's medical team is done with re-installing Jack's bio-amp and fixing up the last few cyberware issues with a few of my marines. Pressly is going to be in surgical recovery for a while, there was a lot of shit to fix." Her face twisted in anger. "Fucking Alliance..."

He took another drag. "I am gratified the facilities we gifted you are being put to good use. Miranda was very complementary in regards to Mr. Pressly's various skills, and from all reports he seems to be an excellent choice as an executive officer. That being said, if he is going to be your executive officer, what role will Miranda be playing?"

Shepard shrugged. "That's up to her. She's too smart and skilled to be stuck shuffling paper and making sure all my i's are dotted and t's crossed. She's the only person who understands the bullshit you've done to me that I can take into dangerous situations, and she's got a good handle on shit I don't, like intelligence analysis and all that stuff."

She frowned, puffing on her cigarette. "But as a leader she's weak."

He nodded. "Yet another reason why I felt her working with you would be a benefit to you both. Growth that benefits her will only make Cerberus and humanity stronger."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "I didn't set out to 'improve' your little terrorist clique, Jack."

He made a motion with his hands. "As I've said before, Cerberus is a concept. An ideal. You can't change that ideal – unless you are willing to take part in it. But you can still contribute. Cerberus and what it stands for will survive my death, and Miranda will eventually be the one to bring it to where I envisioned it when I first wrote the Cerberus Manifesto. The Alliance – humanity as a whole – will always need Cerberus. You should be honored I feel you are capable of improving the skills of who will lead it when I am gone."

Shepard frowned sourly. "Shit. I've told you before, I'm not one of you. One of your butcher boys called me out on the fact that what you people do is necessary. I still don't buy it."

Harper shrugged. "And to be honest, if you did 'buy it' I wonder if you would be as useful to me. I have not denied Cerberus has made errors – that I have made errors. Oversights … and in some cases, lack of oversight. Jack herself is an example of one such lack, as I said earlier."

He puffed on the cigarette. "But at least I can face you, and tell you that such oversights were not the intent. The Alliance can't do that, now can they? They will almost proudly admit to committing to a line that ultimately is not in humanity's best interest, mostly to keep those in power from ever falling from such heights."

He tapped his ashes into the tray built into the arm of his chair. "You may hate my methods – you may hate me – but you cannot tell yourself that my ultimate goal – a humanity that stands on its own feet, unbeholden and free to choose its own path – is somehow less noble or moral than NOVENSILES."

She exhaled sharply. "And you have no fucking idea how much disgust that fills me with. Not that I like venting to _you_ of all fucking people, but I have to know something that's bugged me for a while: how much of it is just... rotten?"

The blue circles in his eyes rotated. "The Systems Alliance?" He lifted his drink, sipping slowly, then set it back down, a thoughtful look on his face. "Less than you might think or imagine in some ways. More in others. The question you should be asking is not how far the rot has spread, but what is spreading it in the first place."

Shepard shook her head. "I can already fucking guess that. Based on what Miranda and the intel team have been forwarding me, the High Lords of Sol are behind it. When he took care of the whole mess when I stole the Normandy, the Silver Prince snowed my ass pretty good, and I just assumed Alliance command was the problem."

Harper shrugged. "Manswell is very experienced at making people underestimate him, Shepard. The High Lords have run this game since the very start, since Saint Victor himself put down the ruling governments and united humanity under his own iron banner. The high-flown ideals and dedication to protect humanity all sound very nice – and I have no doubts that the vast majority of both the Alliance military and the Alliance government actually believe in said ideals – as you did yourself."

He tapped his ashes free again. "But as with any other system, it is the action of those in charge that determine, ultimately, the real direction it moves in. It is yet another reason Cerberus is needed. Unmonitored systems often develop code drift." He exhaled. "But that will be a discussion for another time."

He tapped a control on the arm of his chair. "I've arranged for a... distraction... near the Bledtesh relay leading towards the Korlus Trade Lane. Mr. Massani has three detachments of his Firestorm mercenaries on the planet, so you shouldn't need heavy use of attritional mech units, but I would suggest going in heavy when it comes to storming whatever complex Okeer is occupying. If the Blue Suns are willing to assist, Miranda can offer them financial incentives."

She snorted. "Good to know. Anything else?"

He observed her for a long moment. "Just... one more thing. We don't know what Okeer is up to on Korlus, but I've been trying to follow the money. It has taken some time to piece everything together, but it appears that his funding is mostly through various Broker fronts – he may have knowledge or information about the Broker as well as the Collectors that could be of use to us. His work on the Genophage may also mean he has information on that."

He leaned forward. "Not to indulge in unsubtlety, but anything about a Genophage cure could be an extremely valuable bargaining chip with your friend Urdnot Wrex. The krogan would make a good bulwark of infantry soldiers when the Reapers do come."

Shepard sighed. "Everything has a goddamned use for you, doesn't it?"

He leaned back in the chair. "I will instead say that the time and place for sentiment is not when we are facing extinction, Shepard. Keep me informed." The QEC link died, and Shepard rubbed at her cybernetic eyes for a bit, before tapping the commlink on her desk.

"Miranda, where are we with the medical stuff?"

Miranda's voice had a thin edge to it, but it softened after her first few words. "Minor complications in regards to Mr. Pressly's condition. The Alliance did not see fit to anchor any of the damaged nerve caps in his ocular socket or his lower spine, so we'll have to culture new nerve basal stem cells and use nanotherapy to process the endings. That isn't a quick process, even with Vigil's assistance – but it is needed before we do any cybernetic installation."

Shepard sighed. "And Jack? My marines?"

Miranda sniffed. "Jack's bio-amp was reinstalled. She's currently in the biotic test facility. Her power is impressive if … unschooled. Your marines who required augmentation or repair have been refitted and are prepared to move out."

Shepard nodded to herself. "Rustle up Tali and have everyone meet me in the main ops briefing area in twenty."

**O-TWCD-O**

In true Cerberus style, the meeting area was basically a small auditorium built around a haptic display tank, leather sectionals and expensive coffee machines setting off the framework of more haptic displays on the wall.

Shepard glanced at Miranda, and then at the team. Tali and Joker sat closest, flanked by Senior Chief Vega, Chief Haln, and Sergeants Ownby and Haskins. Her DACT lounged against another nearby couch. Jack sat by herself, feet spread wide, eyes covered with a pair of wrap-around sunglasses, fiddling with a heavy shotgun she'd taken from the armory.

Miranda stood to one side, flipping through something on her omnitool, speaking a few seconds later. "Jacob has arrived on Bekenstein...as of an hour ago, there are some difficulties involving one Donovan Hock that he may have to rectify. It is unlikely he'll be done in time to get back before Friday."

Shepard nodded. "Alright. We'll roll without." She glanced at the big haptic screen. "We're going after a krogan scientist named Ganar Okeer."

Jack snorted. "A krogan scientist? The fuck?"

Shepard shrugged. "That's what I'm told. Okeer is the oldest krogan – the oldest living sentient being – alive, approaching three thousand years old. Apparently, krogan only die if killed, and get bigger and stronger the longer they live."

She tapped her omni, an image of a simply titanic krogan in bronzed armor displayed. "Case in point, this image is from the fucking original Krogan Rebellions – that was a long time ago. He's one of the developers of the Genophage that broke the power of the Krogan, and he's been involved with all kinds of shady shit over the years."

She set her jaw. "Among other things, he was tied up with slavers that killed the son of a good friend of mine. He was involved with Saren and Benezia, providing the krogan that Saren warped into those Destroyer things that stormed the Citadel, the rachni-krogan crossbreeds. And he was probably tied up in some way with Ylana. Now it looks like the Broker lied about taking him out and he's tied up with that fuck, plus the Collectors."

Tali shifted in her seat. "Do you think he is indoctrinated, then?"

Shepard shrugged. "Possible. We don't know much – Korlus is a pretty rough place." She tapped her omni-tool. "It's a recycling and shipbreaking world, with it's own little slaver gang that provides the manpower for such jobs. Most of the work is hazardous, involves lots of explosive, corrosive or dangerous chemicals, and is a big source of smuggling cover. It's overrun with criminal asshats, slaving fucks, and other assorted slime. Even if Okeer wasn't on the planet I would have wanted to give it a going over."

Miranda's lips twitched. "We're trying to maintain a low profile, Shepard – which I mentioned to you, before you set out to have your temper tantrum with the Umlor Pirates. I understand it was a deliberate move in some ways that allowed us to achieve our goals … but the manner of its execution has had certain consequences."

Shepard smirked, and Miranda gave a look of exasperation as she continued speaking. "And while I certainly appreciate the idea of removing such blights, I would argue the situation is much different here, and that perhaps we should engage that particular problem at a later date? Annihilating another pirate network will not go unnoticed, after all."

Shepard made an open gesture with her hand. "No one is gonna miss them, Lawson." She blew out a breath. "But she's right. The Council is 'interested' in the Butcher and they have a pair of Spectres with lots of backup looking for me. We can't afford to get pinned down in a long running fight and apprehended – and I know both the Spectre's involved. I don't need a fight with either of them, much less both."

Jack sneered. "What? I thought you could beat the shit out of anyone, all the smack you were talking earlier."

Shepard shrugged. "Maybe I could beat them both. But they both have personal fleets, and a lot of the people on one of those fleets used to be my sailors and marines. And while I'd be happy to put my fist into one of the Spectres in question, the other one...she's sort of a relative. I'd rather not have to kill them – not to mention doing so would ruin any chances I have to work with the Council later on."

Miranda arched an eyebrow. "Optimistic of you."

Shepard shrugged. "Maybe. But given the whole point of this mess is to find enough evidence to convince the ever-fucking Council to, y'know, actually listen to me for once, I figure it is probably the smart play."

Turning back to the group, she folded her arms. "Our goal is to find Okeer, neutralize whatever bullshit he's up to, gather intelligence and information, and then either capture him for interrogation – or if that's too hard, blow his fucking brains out." She glanced at Tali. "This is the asshole who beat the fuck out of Wrex, and is probably the guy providing the clowns who offed Captain Troyce as well."

Tali's mechanical hand tightened to a fist, and Joker scowled. "Could you stop deliberately pissing her off?"

Shepard smirked. "I like it when she gets angry."

Joker sighed.

Shepard tapped her omni again. "We'll be meeting up with a man known as Zaeed Massani – a very famous bounty hunter and mercenary, who currently runs his own private military corporation known as the Firestorm. Masaani has his own axe to grind with the Broker, and Cerberus has paid him off to work with us as well as to retain his PMC on standby if we need heavier or additional backup."

She glanced around the room. "I've worked with him – briefly – during the Damocles Incident, and he's ex-Penal Legion, like me. He's going to be a very rough sort of man to deal with, but adds a good amount of firepower. We go in, meet up with him, and his merc company will help assault Okeer's compound. He'll also help us talk with the local Blue Suns leader, who has some kind of issue with Okeer."

Another tap of the omni revealed an image of a heavily reinforced ship dock, surrounded by high walls, heavy bunkers with GTS missiles, and rank upon rank of krogan-style ground assault vehicles. "Okeer has taken possession of the Takara Shipbreaking Dock, converted it into some kind of ship conversion facility, and is currently doing something involving biotechnology."

She glanced at Miranda, who continued. "According to our sources, Doctor Okeer has access to almost a dozen light frigates and more than fifteen heavy freighters converted to troop landing vessels. He is also acquiring quite a large amount of ordinance and other war-fighting supplies. Our initial intel suggest that the situation on Tuchanka – his clan is being cleansed from the face of the planet by Jona Sederis and Urdnot Wrex – has forced his hand away from whatever research he was working on to planning a raid on Tuchanka to rescue the rest of his clan."

Shepard smiled. "We will have to hit this facility hard, penetrate security, fight through an army of krogan and beat him down, steal or gather information about the Collectors and whatever else we can, and then get the hell out before the Spectres – or the slaver networks on the planet – show up." She gestured vaguely at the image on the haptic screen. "As you can see, it is pretty fortified. If he's up to something really nasty, we'll have to blow the place up on our way out."

Tali sighed. "So, Virmire, minus Benezia and Nazara. _Wonderful_."

Shepard winced at the reminder of Kaiden's death, but nodded. "Pretty much. We'll split into activity teams for this. Jack, Tali, you'll be with me. Miranda, I need you to to lead my marine squad as a flanking force to keep heavy fire off of us. We'll take some mechs, but not a lot, mostly to boost your numbers."

She shut off the haptic screen. "Zaeed will retain command of his own mercs and I plan to have him do the bulk of engaging the krogan. We'll keep Doctor Sedanya on hot standby with a landing ship if we need medevacs."

Tali spoke up. "We should bring Kiala and Dost as well. Dost is a very good combat engineer and hacker, and we may need something heavier to break Okeer's data."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "You forget about Vigil?"

Tali shook her head. "No, but we don't know what will happen. There could be something that ties up all of Vigil's attention."

The sphere pulsed in faint illumination. "While normally I would suggest the canned organic is underestimating me, there may be wisdom to planning for the worst. While I am invulnerable to anything your primitive technology might come up with, this Okeer is involved with the Collectors, and if they are using Reaper technology, that is more than capable of causing me severe difficulties. A good portion of my runtimes are already heavily engaged at Bekenstein. Additionally, I will be attempting to jam communications from an entire planet to prevent the Council from learning of what is happening until it's too late. Besides, I am not here to do your jobs for you."

Shepard eyed the thing, but Jack laughed. Tali was clearly unamused. "_Canned organic_?"

Vigil smugly soared higher and closer. "I can assemble other nicknames if you like."

Shepard held up a hand. "No. Back to the matter at hand, please. Have you been able to penetrate Okeer's network yet?"

The sphere sank back down. "No. The krogan is much smarter than any of his meat-headed kin. His entire network is run through purely optical hardlines, and all communication systems route to a primitive but effective speaker system rather than the normal TTL nets. All computers are physically isolated from any outside networks and even the armored vehicle computers have nothing but hardline comms – not even laser pickups. It is almost as if he fears being compromised by hacking...which makes me wonder exactly what he is doing."

Shepard nodded sourly. "Alright, then. The armory is open and Dost has finished specs on upgraded armor for everyone – including you, Jack. You aren't running into a goddamned firefight wearing bandages."

Jack scowled, but one of the marines spoke up. "Hell, the other shit they threw together looked pretty badass, Boss Lady. And those fucking guns!"

Jack immediately perked up at that. Shepard chuckled. "You have two hours to get geared up. We'll be launching twenty minutes after that, so make sure you have everything squared away. Vega, that's on you to act as the BDO."

The big Hispanic man nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Ah, what kind of rank or organizational structure we running here?"

Shepard sighed, and Miranda spoke. "Cerberus uses a simplified rank structure for its military forces...or at least, we did. Line soldiers are troopers, commanded by assault leaders – roughly, sergeants – and centurions, or chiefs. Assault Captain is roughly a BDO style rank, and most units are lead at the top ranks by a Cerberus Commander."

Shepard's lips quirked. "So I guess I'm Commander Shepard again, huh?"

Miranda arched an eyebrow. "I'd say that would depend on if you consider yourself part of Cerberus."

Vega nodded. "Fair enough. Is all the armor in black and orange, though?"

Miranda sighed. "A byproduct of the plasma forge process is that it blackens the metal. We removed any Cerberus logos or insignia, and the suits can be painted to whatever spec you like."

Shepard nodded. "Have Dost throw white and blue on everything. I don't want anything linking us to Cerberus right now, and putting Jack in Cerberus colors might actually make her catch fire or some shit."

Jack flipped her off, and Shepard chuckled. "You have your orders. As Master Chief Cole used to say, move like you have a purpose."

"Rah!" The handful of marines departed, and Shepard turned to Miranda. "If you don't mind, I'm going to check on Pressly – comm me when we're ready to head out."

Miranda nodded. "Of course, Shepard."

By the time she got to medical, her somewhat keyed up nerves had settled. Pressly was ensconced in one of the private rooms around the periphery of the main medical staging area, in a comfortable bed with a thick black and orange blanket.

He sat up a bit more as she entered, cutting off the haptic programming he was watching. "Ma'am."

She waved a hand. "Knock that shit off , Charles. How you doing?" She took in the big bandage over one eye and the replaced cybernetic arm that looked much more advanced.

He shrugged, wincing as he did so. "You've got some pretty good – and scary – doctors. The docs on Dirth said it would be almost impossible to walk again, these guys just sound irritated by it. And they're going to do some more prep-work for a cybernetic eye tomorrow." He frowned. "But that means I'm in no shape to back you up on your next mission."

She sat down in a comfortable leather chair across from him. "Don't sweat it. Just having you here helps." She glanced down at the floor. "I'm a little surprised at how calmly you're taking all this in."

Pressly gave a chuckle. "Some of it may be shock. But … I'm not blind, Shepard. I've been watching the news pretty closely ever since the Normandy went down, and taking a look at some of the more paranoid extranet sites. The idea that Cerberus is the only sane organization in the galaxy taking the action that needs to be taken is ugly … but not, if you think about it, too shocking."

She glanced up. "How is that?"

He adjusted his position slightly, his broad shoulders slumping as he did so. "The Council never struck me as caring much about humanity. I think we had a conversation about how I saw aliens, and the fact that humans are on the Council now still doesn't mean they give much thought to how the average joe lives. They are looking to keep the peace and not rock the boat."

He grimaced. "Watching the video of the Collectors taking out the people on Freedom's Progress isn't something they're going to want to face. It's more likely they have the STG or some other quiet group doing what they can in the background. Hell, they didn't want to believe the truth about Saren because it would disrupt the galaxy, and they kept quiet about the Reapers for the same reason – are you really surprised they're doing the same here?"

Shepard shrugged. "Inaction only gets people killed on the battlefield."

He nodded. "We both know that, but they aren't warriors."

Shepard snorted. "Sparatus and Valern were, and they should both know better."

Pressly sighed. "From what public minutes that I've seen, Councilor Sparatus is the only one pushing for continued military buildups and he seems .. frustrated a lot."

Shepard laughed, leaning back. "And there it is. I know I've finally gone goddamned crazy – Cerberus is the good guy and Sparatus is the Councilor with a brain." She looked at Pressly directly. "They're not what is pissing me off the most. The lack of action by the Alliance is."

At that, the bald man merely gave a sour expression. "I … have lost some faith in the Blue since the day the Normandy died, ma'am. Not just about my own situation. The game is politics and I was a casualty. But how they treated General von Grath, Tali, and Joker – the crap they did to Anderson – cashiering the marines to keep them quiet...it isn't right."

Shepard smiled. "Don't worry. We'll make them regret that shit." She ran a hand through her hair. "Still...it's good to talk to you about this. Agreeing to work with the Illusive Man...God, I almost couldn't make myself do it."

Pressly leaned back. "Well, I don't work for him. I work for you. So do the rest of us. And if it comes a day where you're called to account for working with the only people looking to fix the problems, I'll be right next to you, ma'am. Proudly."

She smiled again. "Can't ask for more than that. So. Miranda. You two talked?"

He shifted again. "We did. A rather formidable woman, very talented and driven. She told me more of how they … brought you back to life." A troubled expression crossed his face. "I think I can give her some advice, but she seems pretty fixated on the 'Cerberus is a good thing' line of thinking."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "...God, I hate to say this, Charles...but I'm having some doubts if she's totally wrong."

His expression hardened. "The Sara Shepard I knew never doubted her own path – and the things I saw on Edolus make buying that Cerberus is a good idea a fairly hard sell. They damn near got you and Liara killed."

She nodded. "They did. At the same time...fuck. If not for Cerberus, think about where we'd be. Harper said the Alliance was probably going to move on Liara in a bad way if she had .. not died, because of some of the things I found out about. I really doubt that Joker and Tali would be able to have made it, and if they'd gone back to the Flotilla and things ended out there the way they did what would they have done? No one was going after the Collectors, Jack would end up being sold to the goddamned Deathwatch, and you would still be suffering."

Pressly gave a faint, bitter sigh. "I know that … Sara." She glanced up as he used her name, something he rarely did, and he gave her a tired smile. "But I also know that men like Mr. Harper don't change their whole outlook very often. He may not be doing the same sort of things the rest of Cerberus was. Maybe Ms. Lawson's story about the AIS involvement, about this General Florez and a Williams being the bad actors is totally true."

He exhaled. "But even if that's the case, Cerberus did a lot of questionable acts before they got involved – killing the Pope, blowing up ships, killing aliens, and worse. I'm not ready to give them a free pass because they're finally not doing something appalling, because I don't know they're not."

She shrugged. "And how does this tie into your discussion with Miranda?"

He gave a wry smile. "Ms. Lawson is driven and talented – but she's got a lot of issues stopping her from being a good leader. She's confused being smart with thinking things through, and has trouble understanding that planning for problems doesn't mean assuming you aren't smart enough to catch every last mistake."

He shifted. "The man who taught me most of what I know was a crusty old bastard named McDaniels. Career officer, never would make it past lieutenant commander because he was a cousin of the Williams family. He said too many leaders want glory. He used to quote an old Chinese philosopher. 'A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves.'" Pressly gave a smile.

Shepard thought about that for a long moment. She'd seen her share of glory-hogging assholes get marines killed, and cretins like Branson who loved the limelight and publicity. But looking at it more deeply, she thought about the thousand little things Pressly did and rode herd on in her hunt for Saren, and during her time in charge of the Kazan, that got the job done. She finally nodded. "I can see that."

Pressly sighed. "Ms. Lawson wants … recognition. She wants praise, even if she might seem standoffish and full of herself. She doesn't yet get the point of being an executive officer is to provide the leadership, the organization, the detail work that people overlook."

He looked up at Shepard. "I'd never want to do your job, ma'am. I'm not strong enough, and the few times I had to face down admirals and the President when you were down I understood I just wasn't ready for that. Leadership is as much about growing yourself as it is growing the people under you ...and until Ms. Lawson learns she needs to grow some more, she won't be as effective as she could be."

Shepard smiled. "I still have no clue why they made me Anderson's XO and you the navigator. Hell, they could have made me the Battle Duty Officer and it would have made more sense." She smiled. "The good old days where I only had to worry about pointy-faced asshats."

The bald man ran his good hand over his scalp, looking a bit sheepish. "Well, we have a chance to see if we can't do better this time. I'm hoping some of what I've learned by having time to sit and think has let me grow as well...and like Joker said when he visited earlier, we have a lot more resources now, even if they are Cerberus. It will be better than the good old days."

She gave him a look. "Shit, I hope so. I **died**."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard found Jack in the biotic practice area, testing out her biotics. She had gone with an armored vest of sorts, with projected omni-fields over the chest, omni-field bracers, and strap-on armor plates over her thighs and shins. She was hurling thin lances of warpfire at one of the targets, the streams of energy curling and arching at sharp angles to strike with unerring precision.

The power of the strikes was impressive, but Shepard had never seen warp fire bend like that, or channel in such thin, beam-like streaks. She cleared her throat, scratching her chin as she stepped into the room more fully. "I see why they said you were different."

Jack smirked, trickles of sweat running down her features. "I ain't got much to be proud of, but this? I'm the best at this." With a grunt of effort she slammed her palm down on the decking, waves of storming blue energy flying across the metallic floor in a narrow arc towards the target, exploding into shockwaves only upon impact. The already stressed metal snapped with a loud bang, the heavy metal weight flying through the air to crash into the far wall with a resounding gong.

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "...that's handy."

The ex-Corsair girl tossed her head, wiping her forehead with her free arm after killing the omni-field bracers. "I can do shit no one else can do."

Shepard folded her arms, the thick white armor glimmering in the bright lights of the practice area. "I don't know your skillset, and Harper didn't give me a manual." A flicker of memory from her past bubbled up, remembering something Rachel had done with her as a Penal Legionnaire.

She walked forward, letting her arms fall to her sides. "I seem to recall you telling me some kind of bullshit about you being the worst nightmare I'd ever see. We have a little time before we ship out. Let's see what you got."

A flicker of conflicting emotions stormed across the girl's face, before they fixed on anger. "Your funeral, bitch. You slammed my ass around when I was thawing out and with no amp, but I'm the psychotic biotic for a reason."

Shepard merely mouthed the words Rachel had told her so long ago. "So much talk, so little action."

With a roar Jack hurled warpfire, six curving lines of it moving at differing heights and angles. Shepard sniffed and pulled up the wall evocation Trellani had taught her, using her will to bend it into a curved shape. She grunted as the spears of fire slammed into it with heavy impacts, but enjoyed the dumbfounded look on Jack's face.

"What the shit...that's a goddamned Wall! Only asari can do that!"

Shepard let it fall, flickers of biotic energy shimmering over her body. Stopping those hits had taken more than she had expected – little bitch was not that much weaker than she was. She didn't show that though, merely smirking. "Nice trick with the multiple angles. Most can only throw one at a time."

Jack looked confused at being complemented, frowning. "I...yeah. Some of what I do just shuts down other people's crap. But I can … split a lot of the powers . I can keep my shockwaves in the ground and have 'em pop up at the last second, invert my throw into a pull or my pull into a push, and throw two different evocations at once."

Both of Shepard's eyebrows came up at that. "This I have to see." She carefully placed her hands in the mnemonic shown to her by Trellani. Called the 'Shield of Athame', it was supposedly a method of disrupting biotic attacks that passed through it, stepping down their power.

Jack could feel the energy pouring off of Shepard, and despite herself bit her lip. "You flare like a goddamned asari, Shepard. Damn." With a deep exhalation, she focused her power, and with a yell of effort hurled a strong throw and a powerful lift.

Shepard's Shield blazed into biotic light, angry crackles of black lightning erupting from it, before shattering. The two powers, badly destabilized, detonated, sending her skidding back a good fifteen feet to slam against the far wall. Grunting, Shepard got up, frowning. "Still needs work."

Jack folded her arms. "Huh, not so fucking badass after all. Top _that_ shit."

Shepard tilted her head. "If you insist..." With a wrench of energy, she flung a singularity, the dark orb of energy sailing well over Jack's head, but still strong enough to pluck her from her feet helplessly. Shepard killed the evocation before it began to grow in heat and let the biotic fall to the floor.

Jack sat up, eyes wide. "...okay, that is **bullshit**! Humans can't use goddamned singularities!"

Shepard put her hands on her hips. "By most ways of looking at it, I'm not really human any more, Jack." Her voice softened. "I won't lie to you. In a lot of ways you are probably the better biotic. You have a lot of power. You can use it in ways I can't. I rely on straight brute force...you seem to be creative with it."

Jack scowled. "Still fucking hax."

Shepard looked at her hands. "Maybe. But what makes a good biotic isn't merely _power_, or skill. It's knowing when and where to use the stuff. One of the guys who trained me called it 'magical blue bullshit', and said that depending on it above actual skill would get me killed." She exhaled. "The second time I went up against a Glorious batarian, he almost did kill me."

She looked back up at Jack. "I want to teach you."

The younger woman narrowed her eyes. "Why? Just cuz you went through bad shit like I did don't mean I plan on copying you."

Shepard shook her head, walking over to Jack. She knelt down next to her. "I know that. But I also know that you're like me. You never had anyone to show you why shit had to be done a certain way, to point out the good and the bad, to teach you the right way." She glanced at the weapon on Jack's back. "That's a pretty big fucking gun for a girl of your size. Biotics let's you fire it."

Jack snarled. "Yeah. So the fuck what?"

Shepard smiled. "So what do you do when some ass flings an antibiotic grenade at you, or you get fouled with eezo dust?"

Jack paused, and said nothing, frustration in her eyes. Shepard tilted her head. "Well? I mean, in your way of doing shit, it's just you. No one to back you up. You get your biotics taken down, you can't even _lift_ that fucking monster of a gun."

She stood, holding out her hand, and after a second Jack took it, getting to her own feet. "I'm not saying this shit to tear you down. I had a guy tell me I was a fucking clown, and he beat my ass in shitty armor with a pistol when I threw everything I had at him – and he wasn't even biotic. That was the day I learned the lesson he wanted me to – biotics is a tool, not an all purpose thing."

Jack looked away. "It's all I got. I ain't smart. I … don't have anything else to … to make me _**me**_."

Shepard snorted. "Used to think that way too. It's wrong. And that's why I want to teach you. I don't want you to be like me. You have your own skills, and you are your own person. But that doesn't mean I can't pass along some of the shit I've picked up to make you better, and maybe learn something in return."

Jack looked up at her. "...you're really weird, Shepard. What if I decide after you teach me to turn on you?"

Shepard shrugged. "If it happens, then it happens. If I've learned anything it's that fear of shit going wrong is more likely to keep you running in place, miserable with your life, than shit actually going wrong. I'm not here to make your choices, just offer choices."

She exhaled. "And besides, I think you're strong. Strong enough that I can teach you something that made me a big part of what I am, if you think you're up to it."

Jack swallowed, then narrowed her eyes. "I'm up for anything, bitch. If you can do it, so can I."

Shepard smiled wider. "Then follow me to the armory. We need to go over some non-biotic tactics."

Jack sullenly nodded, then scowled. "And what about biotics? You gonna teach me how to do _that_ too?"

Shepard paused thoughtfully. "...I don't know. Most of the stuff Trellani has shown me I can only pull off because of what they've done to me. I guess I could show you the dancing kanquess, but that comes back to making you a copy of me, doesn't it?"

Shepard glanced over her shoulder. "I think you'd do better mastering the stuff you already know. It's a lot more badass than a biotic pogo stick, after all." She walked out of the room, and Jack's scowl weakened as she considered the words and the complement before huffing and following.

**O-TWCD-O**

Jacob hunkered the broad bulk of the ATLAS mech down behind an already smoking pile of storage bins, muttering. "This is some straight bullshit you got me in, girl."

The overly cheery voice of Kasumi Goto in his comm-link sounded almost impishly pleased. "Taylor-san, I'm overjoyed you came to rescue me! But please. More shooting. I don't have a nice big mech to hide from the explosions in, after all!"

He shook his head. "And at the rate he's going I won't either for much longer."

Grimacing, he stutter-stepped sideways, bringing up the secondary missile system and popping up to launch a spray of missiles at the hovering gunship currently firing down at the landing area behind the palatial home they'd infiltrated earlier. The ship was hammered, but its kinetic barriers held firm and it began to move back towards his direction.

"Shit! What does it fucking take to drop this thing!"

As he moved into cover, he wondered just where this shit had gone wrong. Trellani had gone to Bekenstein to pick up Goto after some kind of heist she was going to pull, along with her sidekick, a creepy asari thief named Ghost-Step.

He didn't know all the details, only that Kasumi, Ghost-Step and Trellani had snuck into a big party a crime lord named Donovan Hock was throwing. This Hock was the son of the famous Castor Hock, big shot mercenary and gunrunning asshole taken down back in the day by Tyriun No Kage before his death.

The infiltration went fine, but Trellani was concerned – Hock had a private army and was gathering a great deal of materials for war, and if they were discovered she wanted an exit plan more in depth that merely winging it. Thus, Jacob had hustled through the relays along with a battlesuit and about thirty of Vigil's souped up RAMPART mechs in one of the base's stealth frigates.

Getting past the planetary security net was rough, even with Vigil's hacking. They'd managed to set up about two miles from Hock's palatial home in the Bekenstein High Hills, overlooking the glittering lights of the capital.

The party had gone on for hours, and at some point, while Ghost-Step caused distractions, Trellani and Kasumi had snuck into an underground bunker and stolen something vital from Hock. That was when the shit blew up.

Ghost-Step was apparently killed in a firefight in the house itself, buying time for a badly shaken and upset Kasumi and Trellani to escape. Kasumi's usual skill at bypassing security had been affected by the death of her friend, and before long they'd been pinned down by swarms of Hock's private merc forces.

Jacob had already started to move in when Trellani apparently lost her temper. Cut off by a horde of soldiers, the matriarch had used her biotics to incinerate many of the soldiers, and had melted a way through several security doors seeking to block their escape, snarling in annoyance as she did so.

Kasumi herself had rallied and avenged her friend, and had then taken the liberty of blowing up most of Hock's priceless gun collection. When a second wave of mercs had burst upon them, Trellani had drawn her warp sword and, according to Kasumi's breathless play-by-play as she fought, 'went through them like a samurai in an old Tarantino flick".

He had to admit, this Kasumi girl made him laugh.

Fleeing from increasing amounts of hostiles, Trellani had instructed Jacob to strike and send the shuttle in for a hot pickup. He'd been about to do so when Kasumi reported she'd been cut off by yet another security door - this one complete with a phase nullification barrier - and that Trellani was trapped. Jacob was going to try to directly storm the complex and free her when the Matriarch countermanded that idea.

"Mr. Taylor, the information Ms. Goto possesses is vital – both to my own plans and to Mr. Harper's. You must get her out alive no matter the cost.I will make my own way out via an alternative path, but leave me behind if you must.."

He'd winced. "The big man isn't going to like the idea of me leaving you behind, Matriarch...gotta say, I don't roll that way either."

The snarl of warp energies and screams that echoed through the commlink only made her amused growl scarier. "I assure you, Mr. Taylor, I'm in little danger, although they have ruined this dress completely. Go."

If her biggest concern was the fact her dress was ruined, he assumed she could handle whatever she'd run into. So he'd dropped his mechs – sending them into cover and extract the master thief – and had been caught by surprise when Hock himself showed up in a super-heavy Phantasm mass effect gunship, sporting Silaris armor and ship-grade kinetic barriers along with heavy weapons.

He didn't think he had the firepower to take the thing down, as it was bouncing his cannon attacks and shrugging off his missile hits. His armor plating was scored heavily already, and the artificial canopy was cracked. The ATLAS was a conversion of some old diving mechs Cerberus ran across, and in most situations against a gunship he'd have no issues, but this gunship wasn't even close to spec.

He backed up further as more mass accelerator fire hammered his position, and calculated his odds on foot if his mech went down. They weren't good. And he was about out of both tricks and options.

Taking a deep breath, he keyed the mike. "Hey, Goto – I'mma draw his attention best I can. You need to get the shit out – shuttle is over the hills, and it has an autopilot. If I can draw him enough you can swing back and grab Trellani and get the hell out."

The Japanese woman's voice was tight. "And you, Taylor-san?"

He fired back a burst from his gun, gratified to see the gunship's shielding flickering more rapidly now, but stammering out a curse as another round from its guns blew a hole clean through the leg of his mech. "Pretty sure my number is up, girl."

"Tsk. You can't rescue the damsel in distress if you give up so easily. Let's see what I can do..."

He shook his head, firing everything he had. The flare of firepower blossomed over the shielding of the gunship, finally taking it down, but bounced almost impotently off the gleaming Silaris armor. Jacob backed away further, attempting to draw the gunship out.

A cruel, accented voice boomed over a loudspeaker. "You are a talented suit pilot, whoever you are. If Miss Goto is paying you for assistance, I am sure it isn't enough to die for – and I pay much better."

"Eat a dick!" He fired again, snarling as the gunship nimbly dodged, coming in low so that it could get a better shot off with the slung-forward missile pods.

"A pity."

He wrenched at the controls, even a flare of the pods bloomed. Hard explosions rocked the ATLAS, systems failing as alarms flared and the right leg stopped responding. Lifting his chin, he stared at the hovering gunship, framed in the smoke from its missile launches, and nodded to himself, his breathing calm.

_Least I got to see Pops again. He's gonna take me dying hard…_

Even as he thought that, though, a blur of black leapt up from a stack of crates, landing nimbly on the gunship's now lowered wing surface. The hooded figure lifted a glowing omni-tool and slammed it directly into the diagnostic port of the gunship, and arcs of electricity erupted in all directions from it, even as the engines began to smoke.

The slender figure gave a jaunty salute to the blackened glass cockpit of the gunship and leapt away in a high arch, somersaulting to come down in a three point landing stance, as the gunship began to wobble across the sky and slew to the right. Jacob watched in disbelief as the thing slammed directly into a stack of fueling crates with a titanic blast, fragments of splintering armor flying out in a deadly cloud.

The form of Goto fell back with a pained shriek, a thin but long piece of metal stuck in her thigh. With his mech not moving at all, Jacob popped the hatch and leapt down, drawing his Eviscerator shotgun and bringing up his biotic barrier.

He rushed to her side, covering her, before pulling his medical pack from his back. "Stay down, I gotcha." She gave a shaky nod, blood pooling rapidly below her legs, letting out only a faint whimper of pain.

The woman was definitely well built, her flat-black armor hugging her body, and her cowl had fallen back from her face, revealing dark and yet almost vulnerable looking eyes, a pretty face dominated by the lip bisected by a purple mark, and glossy black hair savagely tied back into a pony tale. She let her eyes rove over him as he flipped the kit open and then began unbuckling the armor plate on her thigh.

She gave him a deadpan look when he cut away the undergarment that the armor was attached to with a field knife. "While you do look … tasty, I think you're going a bit fast for our first date, no, Taylor-san?"

Despite the pain she was in, her voice remained playful, and he rolled his eyes.

"That was the craziest shit I've seen in a long time, miss, and I used to roll with DACT day in day out. The hell did you do to his gunship?"

She winced as he pulled the splintered armor plate and blood soaked cloth away and began drawing the jagged splinter of armor out of her thigh, gritting her teeth as she spoke. "Oh, you know. Just a farewell gift. You were in the military, Taylor-san? Repensum est canicula and all that. He killed someone very important to me."

Jacob nodded absently, ignoring the expanse of pale flesh to focus on the gory wound in said flesh. "Damn, girl. Remind me not to ever piss you off."

As he finished extracting the piece of Silaris armor and tossed it to one side, he pulled out a spindle of flash-thread and began drawing the edges of the ragged wound together before he applied medigel. The shard had barely nicked the femoral artery, but even a nick could kill her in short order if he didn't hurry.

Given that the thief was on her back and in serious pain, and he was totally focused on fixing up her leg before she bled out, it was understandable he wasn't as aware of his surroundings as he should have been. His first reminder of that was the heavy caliber bullet smashing into his back and throwing him forward atop Kasumi, as he spat blood.

He rolled off of her reaching for his shotgun, and a second shot caught him in the shoulder, forcing him to drop it in agony. Striding forward from the burning wreckage of his gunship, Donovan Hock was limping, bloody, smoking and burned, but the smoking barrel of his Carnifex was held steadily. "You have cost me more than you understand, Goto. It ends here!"

He had enough time to get that sentence out before a hard blast of blue fire engulfed him from one side, making him shriek and spin around in agony. A moment later he was lifted from his feet by biotics, and flung a dozen feet to one side, where an almost arrogant slash of a warp sword bisected him.

His lower torso collapsed immediately as his upper half sailed another dozen feet before landing in a gruesome splat, the look of shock and pain etched on Hock's features frozen in place obscured a second later by a final blast of warp fire.

Jacob gingerly sat up, clutching his shoulder, to see Matriarch Trellani standing there. Smears of red gore and viscera splashed her once-elegant gown, now torn in places and stained with her own blood, and her arm was hastily bandaged by a sloppy application of medigel, but her expression was calm as she examined the two of them before shaking her head and sheathing her bloodied sword after an application of warp fire to clean the blade.

"We have what we came here for, and Mr. Hock... " Her lips crooked into a wickedly evil smile … "has seemed to...what is the parlance? Ah yes. Seems to have split."

A moment passed, then Kasumi groaned as if in pain. "Trellani-sama, that was _terrible_."

Using his biotics to lighten his weight, he sat up fully, and examined his shoulder. "I gotta get my arm patched up and her leg, before we both bleed out – can you keep an eye out? I didn't think that bastard could walk off crashing his shit into a fuel dump, and I don't need any more surprises."

The asari nodded, her eyes flickering around the smoking ruin of the landing area. "The mechs you sent into the complex were of great value – I am unsure I would have survived otherwise. A few still remain and are delaying pursuit but we must move quickly. The crash has only highlighted that there is trouble here, and Commissars and police units are on their way. Vigil is reporting extreme difficulty with keeping our presence quiet – the Alliance is flooding the data-sphere with the Silver Legion."

Jacob nodded and got to his knees. "I'll make it quick as I can, but the lady here is in a bad way. Her femoral artery got clipped and some muscles are probably severed, I don't think she can walk."

Goto fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Surely a big, strong man like yourself can carry someone like me?"

Jacob just blinked, then reached for his med-kit to find some medigel for himself, giving the thief a shake of the head.

_Why is it only the crazy chicks go for me?_


	19. Arc II: Korlus, Arrival

_**A/N**:_

_Okeer is best krogan. I could not help myself with the quote.  
_

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. _

* * *

_'There are those who argue, in the feeble and limited perspective of those who value such things as 'fairness', that the krogan are not responsible for their own downfall. It is the nature of krogan to seek vengeance in a time of tragedy. It is considered noble for us to rage against fate, instead of succumbing to destiny. Inevitably, many shall no doubt fault the hands upon the sword of the Genophage that struck us down - __the turians. Others will fault its creators, the salarians who uplifted us. But they merely performed such to save their own weak races. To fear them is to give them a power they do not deserve...and to hate them is to ignore the ugly lesson we as krogan have all learned. Yet ultimately, it was I who set these events into motion...with a single blow of my hammer, God-Splitter.'  
_

_Doctor Ganar Okeer, 'The Irrelevance of Perspective', one of the few literary works produced by krogan  
_

* * *

The room was, ironically, the mirror image of its owner.

The walls, bare, polished steel, were flanked with armored support columns, yet the floor was rich oak wood panels, and the ceiling was a sheet of pure armaglass, displaying an illuminated aquarium well stocked with exotic fish, the edges of the ceiling flanked by inset lights of pale copper, a mix of functional luxury and understated excess.

The desk was square, hard steel and black armaplast, but the chair the man sat in was rich leather and crafted titanium, custom-fitted to his size. A thick rug – decades old and made of silks, worth more than a dozen families in the Alliance make in a year – was flanked by the staid, practical banks of computer screens, haptic displays and steel-framed racks of datapads and thick paper books.

The man sitting almost indolently behind the desk was as impressive as the room. His powerful, massive frame was almost superhuman in stature, his features so evenly perfect as to appear godlike – iron jaw, chiseled cheekbones framing a stentorian nose and a firm mouth. Dark gray eyes flashed beneath a noble brow, framed in long faded brown locks.

His suit – the most delicate and expensive pure wool from the zero-G farms above Vega II, lined with Bekenstein silk – was a black that shone almost dark blue in the lights from above the desk, set off by the pure white silk of his tie and the glimmer of diamond cuff-links. He sat back, amused, and then tapped the control on his desk.

"And you are sure the High Lords themselves are unaware of the cause of the setbacks?" Seated before him, the elegant, sensual features of the woman slowly morphed into a smile.

"My dear Richard, my great-grandfather is many things, but modesty of his own cleverness is not a trait he is known for. He – and the rest of the High Lords – see what their underlings tell them, blindly secure in their dominance. But the chance to shift the balance of power is in our hands - if we but act. The right to dictate the fate of humanity is no longer theirs, given their errors."

Richard Manswell – once known as Richard Williams – merely nodded. "And yet you _are_ one of them, in blood and by right."

Helga Manswell merely arched one perfect eyebrow. "We both know that the High Lords will never allow a mere _woman_ to sit in their ranks. God, the al Saud would combust on the spot. They are bigots in every possible sense of the word – only the most hateful, the most depraved leaders would have sided with Victor, after all. He did not save the world – he waited until Ardiente laid it low, then murdered those who would have rebuilt it, claiming all the while to be holy salvation. To expect anything less from their decedents is the height of foolishness."

She paused, then her voice hardened. "And to be fair, I am no better. Yet the Manswell way is to accept none above us. I would be … discontent but willing to remain in my station, despite being far more qualified to lead this family – if not for our current situation."

He arched an eyebrow and she continued. "NOVENSILES is insanity writ large. It will not be ready in time for us to deploy it against the coming nightmare, and it could easily start a galactic war – hardly what we need with alien robots coming to kill us all. We have, despite the blandishments of the Broker, no real way of knowing when the Reapers will arrive. Such arrogant presumption … Victor himself warned against it."

Richard inclined his head. "You will get no arguments from me, given the … _treatment_ my own family was subjected to. The High Lords have confused inhumanity with hateful ruthlessness, firmness with greed, and responsibility with sneering dismissal. Yet Victor had the right idea, in a fashion." He shook his head. "No matter. If they are fixated on NOVENSILES and economics and politics, they will not bestir themselves to attend to other matters."

He paused to light a cigar. One of the very few sensations he could still enjoy, thanks to upgrades he'd made to his body over the years. The delicate flash of a kinetic barrier kept the powerful smoke from drifting across to bother his guest. "And what of our own counter-stroke?"

Helga's nostrils flared. "Our work in the Mars Archives is … incomplete. I warned you that Shepard was the only possible resource we had to decipher those records, with the destruction of the Thorian."

He grunted. "And I took appropriate action. My careful manipulations of Hades cleared Windsor and his stupid Commandant from the board. It made Maxwell paranoid, handing over more control to me. If things had gone the way I'd wished, we would have immediately sidelined Huerta, and Shepard would have been answering to me. Pulled from the front lines, stuck in the Mars Archive with that asari of hers...she'd have been both powerless and useful."

He gestured at the screens set in the far wall of the office, which scrolled with data the Hades Group had gathered on the Broker and his wide-flung penetrations of the Alliance. "I had no idea the Broker was so prepared to take advantage of my own acts."

She shook her head. "We have no solid _proof_ the Broker killed her."

Richard snorted. "After dealing with that ... snake Harper for years, I can recognize the Broker's signature. At the time we pinned it on the Geth to stoke the build up of munitions and war-fleets." He dumped his ashes. "The last decent intelligence we got out of our agent in Cerberus was that Harper had information saying the Broker was definitely responsible for the mission that lead to Shepard's death and the sabotage of the Normandy."

He sighed. "The troubling thing, of course, is that I still cannot fathom exactly _why_ the Broker would want her dead. And there is nothing to be done about it at this late junction anyway. From what we know from her Commissar's report, the only people who knew of the Cipher, or whatever they called it, are all dead."

Helga shook her head. "That is why I called you, and why I wanted to know if the High Lords were paying attention to the Butcher business. My source inside the Citadel tells us the Council thinks this Butcher may be Liara T'Soni. And my operatives on Omega are almost certain the "Bitter Princess" Aria has in isolation is Aethyta Vasir. Both of them were known to have accessed Shepard's mind."

Richard's face took on an expression of surprise. "T'Soni and her father survived? Interesting." He folded his massive arms after laying down his cigar in the ashtray. "But ultimately pointless."

She frowned. "T'Soni had access to the Cipher – "

He interrupted. "Yes, and by T'Soni's own reports, her command of it was a fraction of that of Shepard's understanding. We're lucky she gave Vandefar that primer of translation texts – it has helped immensely." His voice hardened. "I grasp your point. Having a better understanding of what is in the Seventh Black Archive on Mars would be immensely useful. But you mentioned a complication."

Helga sighed. "The Butcher is … associated with Cerberus."

The big man leaned back, unfolding his arms and picking up his cigar. "That changes things. T'soni's command of the Cipher may be incomplete, but if the bits we got from Shepard's omni-tool are accurate...then the good doctor knows far too much to be left alive."

Helga examined her fingernails. "Killing her is a waste of resources, and killing her father is going to be nigh unto impossible. Assuming we even want to go after T'Soni, she's going to be difficult to localize using only Hades assets. If you demand her death, I presume you want this kept out of the sticky fingers of the AIS and cousin Aloxius?"

Richard nodded, pulling out an info-pad from a drawer in the desk. "Whatever is happening in the Traverse has little impact on us. If the T'Soni woman is alive and tied up with Harper, that could change everything. That is the real problem. I can cut Maxwell out of the loop, I can neutralize Senator Adkins, I can tie up that idiot Shastri all day long."

He watched as she read the info-pad "But nullifying whatever Harper is up to is more problematic. Idiots think the asari are dangerous? Harper is dangerous on many different levels, most of which I can't even counter directly because it would reveal my own long game.. And trying to predict him is … ugh." He rubbed his forehead. "I told Rachel once the man is a fucking snake made of Teflon. Check that data out. Tracing the money isn't working."

Helga examined the transactions carefully. "How old is this?"

He shrugged. "A few days. I have no reason why he'd shuffle money in that fashion, but we got lucky and determined the ultimate destination was the Blue Suns Corporation. That doesn't narrow it down much – there are major Suns operations on a dozen worlds, and most of those are far beyond our operational reach."

The statuesque blond woman tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail against the glossy surface of the pad. Richard always admired how she used conventional perceptions of female attributes to distract most males, which was doubly amusing given her views on males. He refocused his attention on her words.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. The banks being used … are curious. Most are run by outcast asari working hand in glove with certain volus and hanar interests. Harper is being careful never to route funds through human banks."

She tapped a transaction. "Yet THIS payment was made entirely through human banks – the ones he's been using won't deal with some of the Blue Suns branches due to certain … conflicts. The only reason he'd need to go through this bank is if he's dealing with that turian anti-slaver on Purgatory."

Richard frowned. "What the hell would he want with a prison? And why has he been making regular payments for over a year?"

She shrugged. "Keeping someone on ice?" She paused. "And a final, large payment a few days ago. You don't think … he's had T'Soni locked up?"

Richard rubbed his square chin, and tapped a key. "Send in Makali." He leaned back. "Perhaps investigation is in order of a more direct nature."

She shrugged. "In that case, I will be about my business. I've rerouted the Sirta accounts – again – and so far, the lab director is still following orders. All of the basal cells for Maxwell's lung grafts have been contaminated."

He smiled. "Very good."

She rose, and without another word or glance left the large, empty office. Barely a few seconds later the doors opened again, and the figure that stepped through them gave a shallow bow.

"I am here, _kiongozi_."

Richard gave a shallow smile. "I have a task for you. There are irritants in the Traverse. They are connected to Jack Harper. Such things distress me."

The man standing across from him was of average height, with a slender but well muscled build where cybernetics did not replace flesh. His armor, in the black and red of Hades, was surmounted by a long armored coat, and twin hooked blades sat side by side on one hip, the other occupied by a large caliber pistol. A band of cyberware replaced his eyes, his head shaven except for a narrow fall of hair in the back, his skin nearly as dark as the suit Richard Manswell wore.

"Distress is not good for the soul, _kiongozi_. What shall be done?"

The big man smiled. "Look into it for me. Act if you have a clear hand, but right now I need harder information."

"And the target you wish me to investigate?"

Richard tossed him an info-pad "Purgatory. Money flows are in the report. Find out who was on ice, and what they were doing there – and if that can lead us to what Harper is dabbling in." His voice was low. "Given the debacle on Bekenstein this morning, we can't afford more … setbacks. The plan is entering a critical stage. Use whatever resources you need – I don't mind if you go loud, but discreet is better."

"I will depart at once, _kiongozi_."

**O-TWCD-O**

Jack Harper disliked leaving things to chance. Gambling was fine when the stakes were only money, and the worst outcome was having to listen to Henry Lawson's laughter. Higher stakes – life, existence, the fate of the human race – were too important to leave to the random hand of fate.

And he had been gambling far too much recently.

He'd escaped death by minutes on Earth, due to little more than his own gut instincts. He had thought he'd covered every angle in his plans to dismantle what Cerberus had become, only to be outsmarted by Richard Williams. He'd been certain of his plan to win Shepard over to Cerberus before her death, only to be blindsided by the Broker's actions that took her out.

He'd only gained knowledge of the sale of her body to the Collectors due to the guilty conscience of one of Shepard's old team-mates, not by his own attempts.

As galling as those multiple failures had been, of course, there were reasons. Losing the vast majority of Cerberus and its resources, on top of having to scramble to keep in the game and his head on his shoulders, had distracted him. But events afterwards were hardly more reassuring.

The scrap-grace nature of how Cerberus had barely managed to salvage the recovery of Shepard's body on Omega had been a wake-up call. Miranda was brilliant, Pel and Kai were utterly deadly, and Shepard's team-mates had taken down two of the most dangerous warriors in the galaxy. Along with four Remembrance Dancers and the most lethal blade mistress in history, the recovery should have been simplicity itself.

Miranda had required days of surgical correction. Pel had lost an arm, Kai had spinal damage, Miss Zorah required even more cybernetic correction, and most of Shepard's team was killed.

The long process of bringing her back to life was equally a touch and go operation, with more than one occasion where they nearly lost everything – despite billions in funding, unmatched facilities, some of the finest medical minds in the human race, and an Inusannon AI. That Shepard had recovered and agreed – reluctantly – to work with Cerberus was gratifying.

Yet that relationship balanced on the razor's edge as well. Given all the other close calls the Revenant Cell had encountered, it seemed unwise to leave things to chance, or Shepard's notoriously touchy temper.

As such, after every communication with Shepard, Harper assembled a small team to analyze and discuss how best to handle her. Some of the members of the team were there for contrast, such as Pel – via QEC link – and General Petrovsky. Others were there for insight and ideas, such as Brooks and usually Trellani, although she was still returning from Bekenstein.

For the most part, though, Harper relied on the insights from their lead psychologist. Thus far, the advice of Kelly Chambers – don't lie to her, don't volunteer anything, keep all interactions direct and let her chart her own course – had at least not driven Shepard off.

She had claimed that, in relatively short order, Shepard would fall into older behavioral patterns, seeking a leader and justifications, and at that point her absorption into Cerberus would be simplicity itself.

Once again, things had not gone according to plan. Shepard's wariness was bad enough, but her continued distrust of his own motives and directives implied she was much more loosely attached than he hoped for. Given that the situation was about to change and the risk of discovery rose day by day, he had little hope of waiting for things to improve and reaping any benefits from such.

And thus, Harper had recalled the other expert he had on Shepard, the one who advised him to act much differently than Chambers had.

The Illusive Man stared hard at the man slouched on the chair in front of him, the cigarette in his fingers still unlit, and then at the image of Kelly Chambers. "Your projections of how Shepard would react to things appears to be off, Doctor Chambers."

Kelly's image in the QEC flickered a second. She tilted her head. "Psychology is not a deterministic process, Mr. Harper – and all projections were made on known evaluations of her personality. No such work up can truly be complete. Minor changes in brain chemistry can affect emotional balance, depression – a host of factors. I stand by my assertions that in time she will be far more willing to work with and for you."

Harper turned his gaze back to the man. "You still disagree, Mr. Dunn?"

Jason Dunn rolled his eyes, sitting up a bit straighter. "Look, boss. I know Shepard – better than you, better than Kelly, and damn sure better than Her Holiness Lawson. You people are wanting miracles in a day and I keep telling you, She-bitch is an immature child in a lot of ways. You can run all the goddamned modeling you want, but until you get that through your head you won't make any progress."

Kelly Chambers snorted, and folded her arms. "Childish? This coming from, of all people, you? And you are arguing this, no doubt, from the depths of your years of work in psychology?"

Dunn leaned back, smirking. "Aww, Kelly. Don't be angry with me because you suck at your job, babe. I don't need a goddamned psychology degree, I can just look at how you all act whenever you talk about her. I've seen more clue from the likes of al-Jiliani." He ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair. "Jesus fuck, you people are a bit slow sometimes."

With a flick of his lighter, the Illusive Man lit his cigarette, his voice sharp. "Be so kind as to enlighten us, then. As I recall, you suggested she would … cause difficulties for us. Kelly, on the other hand, expected her to be receptive to Cerberus as time went by."

Dunn rolled his eyes again. "I can't believe this. Brilliant minds all around me and the dumb grunt has to break it down to you?" He sighed. "Look. I'll try it another way. You yourself already pointed out how much Jack is like Sara, right? How does Jack respond to anything she doesn't like? Doesn't understand? Can't make fit into her own fucked up way of looking at things?"

Kelly's voice was tired sounding. "She lashes out in anger to cover her confusion and fear. We know this, Mr. Dunn."

Dunn shook his head. "Clearly, you don't. Shepard was taught by the Old Lady, Rachel. Pel can tell you exactly how she used to act. Rachel Florez shaped Shepard, at least as much as Anderson did. The same things you're seeing in Jack you're seeing in Shepard, only from a longer ways out, less angst and more sorrow."

The big man on the other QEC link in the corner, puffing on a cigar, grunted. "Huh. Boy's got a point. Rachel was a cast-iron bitch, but before she got hard she was a whiny fuck a lot of times. She was banging Mikey mostly because he was the only one didn't look at her all cock-eyed, measuring her for a good fuck, and treated her normal."

Pel puffed on the cigar again. "But she'd get … irrational and PMSy and shit when things didn't roll her way. Took her a long time to get over the way she came up, always bringing that shit up as an excuse. Even when she had proof on top of proof of people backing her, she still acted like we were gonna knife her in the back."

Dunn nodded. "Exfuckingxactly." He made a gesture with his hands. "You look at her life and it's nothing but her slowly having goddamned sense _beaten_ into her fucking skull. She's the most self-absorbed bitch I've ever known. I love her to pieces, but damn. It took most of a goddamned year for Liara to get in her pants because Sara was too much woe-is-meing over being a monster and unlovable or some kind of shit. Before Torfan, she was hung up on being a Z and that meant she was worthless and wouldn't ever amount to shit."

Kelly's eyes narrowed. "Yes, but she's shown considerable progress since that point. She's moved on, doesn't cling. The Commissariat reports show that much. And in the time since she's awoken she's hardly moved back to her, as you put it, woe-is-me stance."

Dunn gave her a deadpan look. "C'mon babe. You know better than that. Shepard is determined to see shit her way until she is forced to change that." He looked back at Harper. "I've told you again and again. You have to take a lot of time and bash things in her head. Don't be fucking _subtle_ with it. She hates changing her mind on things. It makes her doubt every other call she's made, and doubt leads to failure."

He exhaled. "Her deciding Cerberus is not fucked beyond recall and that you aren't Satan's grandson or something isn't a concept she can just accept and get over."

Harper puffed on his cigarette. "And why is that? Morals?"

Dunn snorted. "Shit, no. Her 'morals' are just concepts she uses to justify the things she does. That's not the problem at all. The problem is she's … uh, what's the word...linear. Yeah. She'll follow that idea – that maybe you aren't evil – to the logical conclusions."

Harper leaned forward, instincts telling him this was important. "And what would that be?"

Dunn's voice was tired. "That she fucked up _already_. That if she'd listened to you when you reached out to her before, on Arcturus, that maybe Liara wouldn't have died. Maybe her friends would be alive, Anderson okay. That maybe she wouldn't have died, maybe things would be different. And given all the other shit she's fucked up – mostly for the same reasons, not trusting people – it will be depressing and make her doubt herself _more_, and … just a fucking stupid cycle."

Dunn leaned back. "She's really bad at facing hard internal truth, boss. And frightened that she hasn't really changed at all – or more likely, knowing her dumb ass, that it's only because of Liara." He made a disappointed face.

Harper raised both eyebrows. "A surprisingly telling point."

Dunn nodded. "She's fucking scared – and she lashes out with skepticism and snark and more emo bullshit because what the hell is she supposed to do? Who can she trust? And if she trusts you, what does that say about her previous judgment?" He groaned. "And if her previous judgment is bad, what about her judgment now? The shit never ends."

Harper sat back, inhaling smoke thoughtfully. "Doctor Chambers?"

Kelly worried at her lip. "I don't know. Shepard doesn't open up to me as much as I'd like, and she interacts more honestly with Miranda at this point. She's hardly going to want to let me dig into her motivations, and with everything that's been going on I haven't had much chance to sit her down and try to determine ways to proceed."

She shrugged. "On the other hand, she does take my advice – she used what I said and presented herself as almost dismissively overconfident to Jack, because that shakes up Jack's ability to pretend she's unaffected. She's taken my advice on how to go about her slaver campaign."

Brooks spoke for the first time, her dark and beautiful features intense. "But doesn't that imply she's just using your advice without listening to you? Can we be sure Mr. Dunn is wrong if she's willing to divorce your usefulness from actually accepting what you say about her?"

Kelly grimaced. "He … may be right. Analysis of psychology based on the memory extracts from the gray-boxes is tricky, as they're just … memories. Trying to project from them is even more tricky."

Pel grunted, his QEC image flickering. "Don't forget she was raised by David, too. Anderson never did like people who changed their views on things – hell, the whole reason shit fell apart there at the end was him convincing Kae to act like a little bitch instead of sticking with Kai when the chips were down." He rubbed his chin. "I ain't no shrink, but I can get in people's heads when it comes to talking trash – if she's like Rachel, that woman wants to believe in something, fucking _anything_, that won't blow up on her."

His voice held a faint trace of something like pain. "Makes her a natural fit for the Dog, if you can get that across to her."

Dunn nodded. "I told you. When she's skeptical, just give her _answers_. Hard, clear, unabashed answers. Ninety percent of the reason she's this way is the Alliance had us doing shady shit and wouldn't ever give us straight answers as to why. Can't imagine shit changed after we split up, and we all know the line the Black Hats take towards what you learn when hit flag rank."

His voice gentled, his hands spreading. "She-bitch needs someone to accept she's gonna be skeptical, that she's not going to trust them, that not trusting won't mean they won't trust HER, and answer all her shit patiently. No one ever bothered to straight level with her and give her THEIR trust and faith without demanding she do some shit for them first. Like I told Liara, _everyone_ uses her – and she's not stupid enough to miss that. But you gotta let her decide – on her own time – that you aren't lying to her. That you ain't out to fuck her over, or do some shit she won't put her name on."

Jack Harper sighed. "We do not have the luxury of _time_ in that regard, Mr. Dunn. Once she takes down Okeer, I expect that will panic the Broker. We are already seeing that Shepard's attack on the Umlor Pirates has disrupted some operation he was involved in, and I cannot imagine Okeer is not also working with him. He will almost certainly act to clean up loose ends such as the Sisters of Vengeance and Archangel. Extracting either of them will hardly go without public attention, as Shepard is hardly a subtle touch and elements of both Ilium and Omega will arouse her ire."

He puffed on the cigarette. "There is a high probability that by the time she is done retrieving both, Shepard will be exposed and having to face the Council. If at that point they're smart enough to give her options instead of stonewall her, she is very liable to abandon Cerberus given her current attitude."

Dunn folded his arms. "Boss, uh, you have seen the kind of bullshit the Council pulled on her in the whole Saren mess, right? You actually think they have enough fucking brains to try that? Or that she's really stupid enough to listen to them? They double-crossed her when it came to Ilos. She's dumb, but she's not a goddamned vorcha."

He smiled thinly. "She-bitch only gives people one fucking chance to double cross her."

Harper smiled thinly. "I did not achieve my current position by assuming the best would transpire. Udina and Sparatus may back her. To be honest, Udina will almost certainly back her, even against his instructions from Earth. Sparatus may do so if only because he worries about the Reapers. Thin'Koris is … difficult to model accurately, but I cannot imagine him opposing her based on any past history – her antipathy towards the geth is well known."

He exhaled more smoke. "Based on past reactions, Valern is going to be the mouthpiece of the dalatrasses and the STG, with preference given to the STG's instructions. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that if the STG determined they could learn anything about Cerberus from her, they might very well instruct Valern to go along with trying to reach out to her. With four to one voting, that would mean Tevos's opposition would be meaningless. I do not know if Shepard would trust them, but I worry she would be far less ambivalent about doing so than trusting Cerberus."

Kelly frowned. "So if it takes time to win her over...to get past her own 'immaturity' as Jase puts it...and we don't have time for that – how do we tie her to us using some other method? Do we try the gambit Trellani suggested, with the asari?"

Harper did not miss the casual reference from Kelly to Dunn, but did not comment, rather shrugging. "I am still hesitant regarding that plan."

Dunn grimaced. "That shit will backfire. Just... _no_. And you're all overlooking something." He grinned. "You don't need her to trust you guys. At least, not just yet. Once you beat it into her skull, Kelly's ideas are probably right. But in the short term? You just have to make sure the Council pisses her off, and the Alliance acts like an ass. The more it seems like she has no options, and the more they irritate the fuck out of her, the easier it is for her to make excuses in her head. She's gonna pick the easier road, _especially_ if we're the only ones getting shit done."

Harper gently rubbed his forehead with two fingers of one hand. "To completely turn her against the Council or the Alliance is counter productive, considering at some point we need to work with both of those groups."

Dunn shrugged. "So? What is more important, getting Shepard on your side, or playing kissy with the Council? I warned you when this shit started that she was going to be trouble, a lot more than you expected. She's not gonna let you do your usual routines."

The Illusive Man grimaced. "And your recommendation?"

Dunn rubbed his chin, then shrugged. "Look, it's not that much different than you probably originally planned. You just need to … adjust the playing field and shit. She goes after Okeer, blows his head off. Broker panics, tries to do something to stop the bleeding somewhere else – the Sisters of Repeated Stabbings and Murders, this spike version of the fucking Punisher, or both."

He stood, moving his hands. "Shepard goes in to rescue one of them – you deploy our own guys to keep the heat off the other one. Worst case scenario, her identity gets out – and so does her link to Cerberus. What's the knee-jerk Council reaction going to be?"

He folded his arms. "That they will think she's a clone. Or a spy. Or _something_. Not open fucking arms. Even if Udina has the balls to back her, the rest of the Council will go hell fucking naw."

Pel chuckled. Brooks arched an eyebrow. The Illusive Man extinguished his cigarette.

"Given that putting our people on Omega would be … _difficult_, we'll have to move to protect the Sisters of Vengeance."

Dunn shrugged. "You said earlier that they haven't responded to our nibbles yet, and neither has this Archangel guy. I say after she waxes Okeer, send her to Omega. Solus is moving in that direction anyway, and this Archangel guy is going to get his spiky ass shot to pieces sooner or later, while the Sisters are a lot sneakier."

Harper was silent for several seconds, before grimacing. He glanced at Brooks. "Take Rasa and see what you can find out on Ilium." He flicked a glance at Petrovsky. "Put together a force capable of standing off … Broker reinforcements. Keep it quiet but make sure it is a solid as we can manage. Our military resources are very slender outside of Shepard's own assets."

His gaze moved to that of Jason Dunn. "I want you on hot standby and consultation with Doctor Chambers. We'll go with your assumptions and after Korlus I will … see if they bear fruit, if I am recklessly open with her. Pel, you and Kai will continue to monitor and shadow Doctor Solus until he reaches Therum – but be ready to deploy to Ilium if need be. Otherwise, secure the good doctor on Therum – intelligence suggests his break with the STG is more severe than we originally suspected."

He leaned back. "Shepard herself will be transitioning to Korlus very shortly. Vigil will attempt to keep her activities there quiet...but let's go ahead and put a few assets near the trade lanes and take out FTL comm drones that may slip past. I don't want Council Spectres interfering at any point."

Brooks leaned back, a small smile on her features. "And the situation on Bekenstein?"

Harper picked up his drink. "Trellani accomplished the objective. We have Ms. Goto – and the information from the batarian raid. It appears the asari Ghost-Step was killed in the operation, but given her issues and unlikeliness to work for us, that is of little moment. Given that Rasa will be occupied on Ilium, you can clean up any loose ends on Bekenstein. Obtain Ghost-Step's body if you can, a look at asari blueware could be of use to our long-term goals."

Kelly cleared her throat. "Goto may be unstable – she had worked with this Ghost-Step person for a long time...are we sure she's still viable?"

Harper glanced at Chambers. "You'll have Goto's full dossier in twenty four hours, Doctor."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard moved through the cargo bay of the Normandy, a faint smile on her face as she watched her marines getting armored up.

She had to admit, the Illusive Man certainly didn't lie when he promised her the best resources. Most of her men had modular Devastator armor suits, with supplementary onboard medical systems and omni-armor facings. The armory of the base had everything from Zeus pistols – usually restricted to Commissars – to a wide selection of exotic weapons. Nothing but the very best, with a full armory to customize each piece to the owner.

Her DACT were sporting prototyped Cerberus specific armor suits called FUJIN-class drop-suits. Modeled off of stolen turian tech, each one was super heavy powered armor, complete with armored myomer muscles, strong fitted kinetic barriers, and micro-mass effect field generators three times as powerful as those on Icarus Jump Armor. With a mass-effect shield generator in the legs that allowed their 'death from above' jump attack to land with truly shattering power, built in omni weapons and missiles, and onboard VI management, Montoya and Florez were in lunatic heaven.

She whistled sharply. "Hustle up, boys and girls."

The fifteen odd marines stopped what they were doing and formed neat lines in front of her, the bearlike bulk of Senior Chief Vega in front. Shepard took a deep breath.

"We'll be hitting Korlus soon. I've got a lot of war robots coming along for the drop, and I'll be the tip of the spear – but I won't lie to you. This shit is at least as bad as what we hit on Virmire, probably, minus a goddamned Reaper and a geth fleet. Okeer was the asshole who dreamed up those fucked up krogan/rachni things, and there's no telling what kind of intolerable bullshit he's gotten up to here."

She bit her lip, meeting the eyes of her people – of Ownby, Haskins, Haln. "Likewise, it's likely that his Ganar clan krogan will be guarding him. We've fought krogan before, and you all know they're tough sons of bitches. You've got gear better than most N7's now, and we'll be going in hard and fast with heavy backup from two assault shuttles and the HAMMRHEAD tank, not to mention the Normandy herself."

She straightened. "But as before...some of you could get killed on this trip. This is your last chance to back out."

Montoya snorted. "Fuck _that_ noise, ma'am. I'm here to get down, loud and dirty. Maybe the rest of the galaxy ain't got your back, but us Normandy Boyz is in it to win it."

The murmur of approval was complete, and Shepard nodded. "Alright then. Good to see you're still goddamned crazy, Uriel."

His expression flickered. "I miss Sergeant Telanya, she'd have said something smart-ass about us being uncivilized."

Vigil popped into existence next to the man, making him stumble back. "I can fill in for that position, primitive."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Vigil..."

The sphere pulsed smugly. "My apologies, meatbag. The purported pilot of this vessel wishes to instruct you that we are approaching the jump point to the Imir Relay. ETA until jump is fifteen minutes."

She nodded. "Status of suppressing system defenses?"

The sphere actually gave a very human sounding snort. "_Please_, Shepard. There is overkill, and then there is hurling sixty billion runtimes at a system that wouldn't be used in a child's toy in my civilization. While I cannot penetrate the ground defense net of Okeer, the planetary sensor net and all outgoing communications systems are under my control."

She nodded, turning back to the marines. "Miranda Lawson will be acting as company commander for this mission. She's Cerberus – but she's also extremely talented, and my executive officer over the entire operation I'm running. Until she fucks up, she has my complete confidence, and I want you to treat her like crew."

Vega arched an eyebrow at that, but only nodded. "Yes, ma'am. She got any experience, or do I need to make 'suggestions' as we go along?"

Shepard laughed. "Suggestions would be a good idea, big guy. I think she's ran a few infiltration style assault ops – and she's the one who got into and out of Omega to snatch my body from the fucking Broker – so she's not hopeless."

Haskins folded her arms. "Boss Lady, where you gonna be at in this kip-up?"

She shrugged. "In the front. Tali and our newest recruit, Jack, will be along with me." She exhaled. "From what little I know, Okeer isn't biotic, but he may have krogan biotics in his group. The Ganar that was Saren's sidekick that Wrex killed on Feros was a biotic. If it comes to that, let Miranda handle the biotics."

She pointed. "Haln, you run first squad. Moon, you'll handle second squad. Vega's the top kick. I want the DACTs hot dropping at a location I designate, you'll finally get to use your door opener."

Florez grinned. "I got a new one, now." He patted the BRKR rail cannon sitting on the table next to him fondly, and Haln shuddered.

"You know, ma'am, putting guns of that size in the hands of a certified lunatic makes me wonder about you and if Cerberus put you back together quite _right_."

Shepard tilted her head, then shook it. "...on that note, I should go."

**O-TWCD-O**

The Normandy erupted out of the mass relay, immediately shifting into stealth mode. Joker tapped through various panels, narrowing his eyes.

"Vigil, scans?"

The sphere floated above Moreau's head, his usual levity gone into a cool professionalism. "More primitive wide-band targeting emissions. Minimal returns. Six light cruisers on patrol paths, and a squadron of destroyers and frigates, Blue Suns registry, solar orbit fifteen light minutes out."

A second iteration of Vigil floated above the main CIC plot, directing war robots that manned Ops Alley along with the pair of flesh-and-blood techs. Shepard, in full armor, stood at her command plinth, watching targets appear on the plot.

She turned to glance at Miranda. "Looks like we're clear."

The Cerberus officer nodded. "It would appear so, Shepard. I've performed final weapons checks and took the liberty of re-coding our missile launch patterns to ground dispersal."

Shepard nodded back. "Vigil... ground defense?"

The sphere circled the CIC plot. "...sporadic would be the most applicable term. There are GTS networks, but they are locally controlled – most around the capital, Choquo. That's almost two thousand miles from our target. Most civilian population centers are lightly defended."

The sphere paused, then flared. "...there are only light GARDIAN systems near the ship-breaking dock where Okeer has gone to ground, but I am detecting particle emissions." The tone of voice dropped. "Identical to... some of the Prothean-style particle beams I encountered during their fight against the Reapers. Curious – why would Collectors be deploying old Prothean tech?"

Shepard frowned. "Maybe it's not the Collectors – Okeer may have done some digging on his own."

The sphere pulsed. "He's a savage. Granted, a savage with a politely eloquent turn of phrase, but still a savage. While the Protheans hardly impressed me, they were certainly more advanced than you lot. Repurposing Prothean technology is difficult since they were hung up on making everything pheromonal and... _ugh_."

Shepard tapped her helmet control. "Whatever. Joker, take us into low observable, and then bring us in over the site." She tapped the 1 MC repeater. "All hands stand by for combat drop."

Miranda checked her pistol, and then her SMG, before picking up her helmet from the nearby console, tucking it under one arm. "I would recommend dropping in the shuttle, since it has stealth systems."

Shepard nodded, tapping her comm. "Jack, meet me in the hangar. We're dropping in five."

"Yeah, whatever."

Miranda's face soured. "She could show at least a modicum of respect."

Shepard chuckled. "Miranda, don't let it get you worked up."

The Cerberus officer followed Shepard into the elevator. "I'm not. At least, not for my own sake. But military discipline is important. I don't want to be a martinet, and I do understand your point about her past. But recklessness is not a net positive."

Shepard shrugged. "You're saying that to _me_? Poster girl for the impulsive? The person who biotically charged and then rage-punched out a Geth Prime?"

Rather than scoff, Miranda actually smiled. "Yes, well. Given that we have a quarian who likes shotgunning her own people, an unstable ancient AI, and not one but two DACT – I would say we have already filled our quota of crazy and don't need any _more_."

Shepard chuckled. "You can never have enough crazy awesome, Miranda." She exhaled. "You feel comfortable leading my marines?"

The younger woman's face took on a more serious expression. "Yes, I do. It isn't the first time I've lead troops … and I am fully aware of how important your soldiers are to you, Shepard. I will place their welfare first and foremost, I promise you."

She placed a hand on Lawson's shoulder. "You do that, and maybe I will start believing you when you say Cerberus isn't full of bullshit."

The elevator opened, revealing the hangar bay, marines getting into the larger combat shuttle, the smaller shuttle only containing two war robots – and Jack, sitting on the hatch's edge, fiddling with the lighter shotgun Shepard had convinced her to use. A heavy caliber pistol was tucked into a holster along each boot, and the biotic hopped up and walked towards them, pausing when she took in what Shepard had on her hip.

"...oh, what is this fuckin' hax? You have a fucking _warp sword_, too?"

Rather than reply verbally, Shepard tapped her helmet control, revealing her face, and popped a cigarette from the compartment on her upper arm. "Boys and girls, smoke 'em if you got 'em. Vigil, time to target?"

"Six minutes, primitive. Recommend boarding your landing vessels. Joker is singularly incompetent in atmospheric landings."

"Fucker, I shot down geth gunships in atmospheres with a _frigate_!" Joker's voice was unusually shrill, and Jack burst out laughing.

Shepard shook her head, lighting her cigarette with a flicker of warpfire. "You heard the … er, thing."

Vega nodded, smoking a cigar of his own. "Apes. As the good Master Chief Cole used to say... are you fucking HOT?"

"Hot, locked and ready to rock, **SIR**!"

Vega nodded. "Ma'am, the detachment stands ready."

Shepard took another drag on the cigarette, and smiled. "You know the drill. Bubblegum and all that."

The marines began loading onto the bigger shuttle, and Shepard turned to Jack. "Alright, so this is your first time with the Shepard Rodeo. I got two rules. When I say cease fire, I mean _fucking cease fire_. And if you get into trouble, you fall back – no goddamned heroics."

Jack rolled her eyes. "Shit, I ain't going out like no punk, bitch." She shrugged. "You wanna charge in and get all shot up, be my guest."

Shepard looked to her right, as Tali, Kiala, and the muscular form of Dost entered. The big marine lieutenant was wearing heavy armor, and holding a Sabre rifle. The two quarian ladies both held Reegar carbines, while Kiala was also packing a heavy sniper rifle.

Shepard turned to face them. "Lieutenant, I've reviewed your combat records in the Alliance. Hardly shabby, but it's been a long time since you were under fire. Are you comfortable dropping with us?"

Dost nodded, his cybernetic hand patting his Sabre. "Yes, ma'am. I've soaked bullets for Kiala before, it's old hat by now."

Kiala's voice was waspish, deeper than Tali's and exasperated. "Idiot. The ancestors despair at your dislike of cover." She turned to face Shepard fully. "I was in the Migrant Fleet Marines for some years before my... exile." The words were tinged with bitterness. "I can certainly hold my own, although not as well as my sha-shian."

The translator stumbled over the term, and Kiala laughed. "Roughly, ship-sister. Tali."

Tali gave her an odd look, but her voice was amused. "I've come a long way from princess."

Kiala patted her shoulder. "That you have. Now, by Keelah, let us go. I have not fought in years and have a great deal of repressed aggression that needs to be vented."

Shepard nodded, but Tali laughed. "Probably no geth here... and really? Venting frustrations?"

Kiala followed Shepard and Jack onto the shuttle. "One cannot be picky. And some of us are not quite so... aggressive in the clean room, sha-shian."

Dost reddened, putting on his helmet. "You'll have to excuse my wife. Her tongue was replaced in her youth with a plasma torch."

Shepard snickered, while Jack just looked confused.

**O-TWCD-O**

As insertions went, the beginnings of the group's arrival on Korlus was flawless.

With their sensor net carefully blinded, there was no hint of the Normandy's penetration into Korlus's atmosphere. Due to the hazardous nature, poisonous fumes, corrosive chemicals and general unpleasantness associated with ship breaking, civilian population centers were located on an entirely different continent from the main ship breaking sites, commuting in daily via mass-effect lev-rails that encircled the entire planet.

Korlus was actually a wealthy planet, but also dangerous, rapacious and cruel. A dozen private military companies made their homes here, along with minor slaver and raider bands, all supporting the key industries of the planet. The murder rate was one of the highest in the galaxy, with much of the merc groups time spent on managing the krogan who had settled in the wilderness of the planet, fighting off uncooperative slaver gangs, and dealing with crime.

The arrival and departure of various gunships, fighters and even light warships was a constant flow of traffic across the skies. As such, the sight of a nondescript military vessel in atmosphere by the very few who saw it didn't even raise eyebrows. The Normandy proceeded to the coordinates provided by Harper, and Shepard's shuttle launched.

On the shuttle, Shepard tapped her comms. "Vigil, wait until I give the signal to launch the assault force and begin the attack. We're headed down to the meeting spot to get in touch with Massani, and then we'll proceed to talk to the Blue Suns. If we're lucky, the Suns may join in on the assault – and in that case, I want to coordinate the launch. No point in my own people taking the head-on attack."

Vigil's voice was calm. "Understood. So far no intrusions or awareness of my hacks. The landing site you were given is clear of GTS defense signatures. Two GARDIAN towers nearby, but reading zero power emissions."

She nodded, clicking off. "I'll... handle Zaeed. He's going to be troublesome."

Tali tilted her head. "Is that the old man with one eye who was actually _hitting_ on you at New Louisiana?"

Shepard nodded sourly, and Tali shook her head. "Oh, dear."

Jack leaned back with amusement. "Ha. What, you don't like people making a pass at you, Shepard?"

Shepard grimaced behind the helmet. "Yeah, no. I try not to get involved with guys old enough to be my father."

Dost chuckled. "I have to say, when I did drops with N7's before, they were all grimly serious types. Bantering is..._unexpected_."

Shepard shrugged. "I'm not that concerned, to be honest. I mean, yeah, Okeer is supposed to be a bad-ass. But I've got a ship with a Kyle torpedo up there, and I already wrecked the shit of a band of pirates a lot bigger and stronger than what Okeer's got. I'm more worried about my people or you guys getting hurt."

She leaned back herself, wondering why in the hell Harper felt it necessary to put leather fucking seating in a shuttle when the only time it got used was by people in full armor. "Besides, if I let myself get serious, I start thinking about bad shit."

The big man nodded. "I see. I'm not... nosy. But it seems like you have some sort of... grudge... against this Okeer."

Shepard nodded, and as the shuttle came down, related the tale of how Okeer had nearly killed Wrex and his involvement in the Destroyers. As the shuttle touched down on a broken concrete landing pad, the man shook his head. "Well, he sounds like a right proper bastard."

Shepard stood. "Not for much fucking longer."

The shuttle's engines moved to hover mode, and the side hatch popped open. As usual, the pair of war robots ducked out first, weapons ready, followed by Shepard with her helmet shut.

The landing pad was discolored by old fuel spills, cracked and pitted. Metal railings along half of it were rusted and bent, and the metallic walkway to the dockside was both liberally stained with old blood and dotted with holes from mass accelerator fire. The dockside itself was a shallow shelf of concrete with reinforced beam sidings, perhaps sixty feet long, boasting three landing pads. Behind it loomed the bulk of some kind of freight warehouse, the armaplast given a fresh coat of paint but failing to cover up its decrepit status.

Five men in black armor trimmed in stylized flames stood in a semicircle around a thickset, older man smoking a cigar. His red and black armor was mostly thick plates, cut away at the right shoulder to reveal his cybernetic arm. A flat-black rifle with red trim and the name "Jessie" was held loosely in the man's other hand, even as he blew out smoke and took a step forward.

"So. You're the Butcher. You don't look like a guddamned killing machine."

Shepard inclined her head, trying to channel her 'asari' speech patterns. "And you do not resemble a man who started a mercenary company in hopes of saving innocent people, either. But the waves can bring us to strange and distant shores, Mr. Masanni."

His good eye narrowed at that, but he merely puffed on the cigar again. "Hn. I hear we have a galaxy to save."

She nodded. "I assume that you have been briefed on our plans here, and overall?"

He gave her a slight sneer. "I've done my homework. Cerberus sent me everything I needed to know."

Her eyes narrowed. "That isn't common knowledge, who my sponsor is."

He snorted. "And I care? I was in the penal legions, and I was on guddamned Shanxi. I've known old _Jack_ a long time. He might try to snow others, but he knows it won't work on me." He puffed on the cigar. "I have enough sense to keep it quiet, I don't need the fucking Odd Couple killing me in my sleep."

His expression shifted. "Although... have to say, a bit surprised they've altered their fucking ways." He glanced over the two quarians and actually raised both eyebrows. "This mission doesn't sound like good business...but your Illusive Man can move a lot of credits, and a lot of information I need."

She let her weight fall back onto one hip and folded her arms. "Our agreement is for you – and for peripheral support from your PMC. For operational security reasons, I can't have your entire merc outfit follow me back to my own base."

The older man shrugged. "I've been briefed, like I said. I don't give a good guddamned shit who you really are or what you're up to. I'm in this for my own reasons, and the Firestorm isn't a part of that." He finally put away his weapon. "I assume your Illusive Man told you of our agreement?"

She sighed. "No, he didn't."

Zaeed smiled. "Well, color me fucking surprised, he actually kept his word. I asked him not to." He took a step forward. "You heard of Vido Santiago?"

Shepard felt her lip curl. "Yes. Worthless pile of living extrement. Runs the Blue Suns – at least the … less than reputable parts of it. Slaving piece of filth."

Zaeed's smile turned from wintry to almost warm. "That's the one. He fucked up an Eldfell-Ashland security job a few months back, and tried to pin it on my company of mercs. The bastard also tried to kill me. This Illusive Man of yours said I help you out, you'll help me snuff him."

Shepard frowned behind her helmet. "...normally I would say no. But as I said, he is a piece of excrement, and I have had a good day. Depending on the circumstances, I would say he is a walking dead man as soon as we localize him."

Zaeed nodded. "Good. Now, let's wipe this stupid krogan and find Vido as quick as we can, so we can get around to being big guddamned heroes." He jerked a thumb to the warehouse. "I've got that bint Jedore's commlink, but the crazy bitch isn't being cooperative. Lots of old bad blood about some shit back in the past to get around...maybe some credits will convince her."

Shepard nodded, turning to Tali and Jack. "Stay here. This shouldn't take long."

Tali merely nodded, while Jack rolled her eyes and tapped her omni, listening to music.

Shepard gestured to Zaeed. "Lead the way."

With a roll of his shoulders, Zaeed turned, heading into the central entry of the warehouse. Inside, the lighting was dim blue, the decking was metal slats overlaid here and there with rubber mats, and the walls mostly plain armacrete festooned with cargo racks. Rows of LOKI mechs and crates of weapons and other war-gear in the black-and-red paint scheme filled some, others had been converted to makeshift barracks.

"Firestorm has four primary centers of operations. This is one of them, I get a lot of work from the ship-works groups. Blue Suns have been here for years, but this Okeer fuck is a recent entry, showed up about a year and half ago."

Zaeed sniffed, walking past crates and through a doorway to his left to a small communications room. "He had some kind of deal with Jedore, but it went sour about six months ago. She tried to storm his compound, got her ass ruined for it and barely got out alive."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "Well, then, she should be cooperative to my proposals."

Zaeed gave a low grunt of laughter. "She's hardheaded and thinks she's some kinda guddamned strategic genius, and hates it when people don't kiss her arse." His hands tapped across a haptic keyboard after transferring his cigar to his mouth.

A moment later, the haptic screen on the wall illuminated, displaying an almost mousy looking woman – narrow, bitter lips, sallow cheeks, sad brown eyes and limp brown hair in a pageboy cut. A Blue Suns tattoo occluded her throat. She looked up, frowning, taking in the image of Zaeed, before glancing over to that of Shepard.

Her voice was lower pitched than her appearance would suggest, but had a nasal quality to it. "So, Zae, this is your big payday? The goddamned Butcher?"

Zaeed spread a hand. "Money's money, love. I ain't got the time to be picky about where my credits come from."

Jedore folded her arms. "Speak then, asari. Keep in mind the Blue Suns Military Corporation is a registered member of the Corporate Court of Vol Prime, and are not engaged in any illegal activities."

Shepard gave a low, throaty laugh at that. "Yeah, I just bet. But I am not here for you. I'm after Okeer."

Jedore's bored expression tensed. "After him... how, precisely?"

Shepard shrugged. "Preferably, I would have him scattered across his own compound in smouldering chunks of gore. If you want to loot whatever left behind after I dispose of him, feel free. Steal his credits, I don't give a shit. I don't have the men to storm that compound by myself without losing a lot of them."

Jedore scratched the side of her neck. "You took out entire pirate gangs..."

Shepard shrugged a second time. "I had a fleet and total surprise, I can't exactly roll through here with such... force. I'd be noticed. I'm also trying to keep a low profile. No one will give a shit about warfare on a gang level."

The woman pursed her lips. "You have acquired a certain reputation for ugly brutality, asari. And a dislike for those who are involved in slavery. While the Blue Suns is, of course, fully compliant with all aspects of the Citadel Charter on the Rights of Sentient Beings, there are times we have performed guard or other duty with groups that may participate in such things. I'm hesitant to bring you into my operational space without knowing your intentions towards this unit."

Shepard sighed, turning her head to look at Zaeed. "Space lawyers, really?" Turning back to Jedore, her voice hardened. "Perhaps I'm not making myself... clear. You hate Okeer and he did something that cost you a lot of your men. I'm offering not only to pay you but give you backup to assault his base, and then loot whatever the hell you want, because I can't raise a big ruckus."

She folded her arms. "And you're worried I'll attack you?"

Zaeed snorted. "Bloody hell. Look, the Firestorm will hit from the north. The Butcher's people come in from the east, nearest the tower – the Suns can hit up from the south. We don't need to fucking deploy in your fancy-ass camps or see what shit you've gotten up to."

He gave the woman a cold glare. "Unless Vido is there."

Jedore sneered. "Hardly. Kuril gave me a call, he's probably running to that sleaze Vosque on the Citadel."

The older mercenary smiled almost beatifically. "That's the best guddamned news I've heard all week. I'll sort him out soon enough. Now, how much is this gonna cost?"

Jedore bit at her lip, then exhaled. "A million credits."

Zaeed's eyes widened, but Shepard tapped her omni in a bored manner, pausing to look up. "Any particular bank or to the Blue Suns corporate bank?"

Jedore's eyes widened, and she stammered for a moment. "A-ah...yes. I mean, yes! The Vol Prime Bank of Irune, account BSJ-44932."

Shepard tapped a few more times on her omni. "Money's sent. We're launching in fifteen, ETA until we hit the target is forty five minutes."

Jedore gave her a hard look then sagged and nodded as her own omni tool bleeped. "...very well. We'll come up from the south with gunships and heavy weapons, punch through the perimeter. Our goal is his vehicles and maybe one of his cutters, so don't expect us to go into that tower of his."

Shepard shook her head. "I don't. Butcher out." She clicked off, and Zaeed's voice lanced out incredulously.

"You just handed her a million guddamned credits for a two hundred k job? I should have asked this Illusive nut for more money."

Shepard smirked behind her helmet. "You can have some more. It's not my money after all. You'll be leading your own strike teams, I suppose?"

The merc nodded, and she straightened. "Good. We'll meet up at the tower and discuss your next steps after we've captured or killed Okeer. "

Zaeed rubbed his chin with his cybernetic hand. "Okeer is a real hard nut, he's been fighting since humans came up with _writing_. I'm not getting paid enough to have my head stomped on by a pissed off krogan, Butcher."

She turned away, towards the doorway and her shuttle. "Don't worry. You just keep Okeer's people off of me, and I'll handle the good doctor. "

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard took a deep breath as the shuttle began cutting through the atmosphere towards the target. Visible through the wide view of the cockpit, the terrain ahead was rolling, flat hills of broken rock, the hulks of broken bits of starships scattered here and there, spars of old metal arching above the skyline like the ribs of some ancient beast.

In the distance, the heavy walls of the ship-breaking facility loomed, dirty brown bulwarks silhouetted against the rising sun. Shepard tapped her omni.

"Vigil, alert status."

The voice of the AI rang out across the commlink. "So far, nothing on the planetary defense net. I've triggered a number of false alarms on the far side of the planet near the capital – fake explosions, incorrect hazardous material alerts, dozens of false alarms from 'attacks' on several outlying facilities. The authorities believe it is hackers."

She nodded. "Smart. Landing status?"

"The Normandy is in low declining orbit, the ship will be in bombardment range in four minutes, and drop pod range in three. All twenty drop stations are ready, each will drop two RAMPART mechs on the pass. The HAMMERHEAD is ready for insertion as well, ten more will ride down with it. Fifteen more mechs are on the larger assault shuttle with your marines, they are holding position and waiting for your orders."

She nodded, tapping a different comm circuit. "Ignition, Solar-Blue, this is customer. Proceed in count four minutes, upon breaching signal."

The voice of Jedore was flat and cold. "Copy."

She clicked off, getting up to move back into the main area of the shuttle. Tali was prepping her drones, while Dost was carefully checking Kiala's suit and adjusting something over her support pack. Jack was casually flipping the safety on her shotgun from off to on.

"Just a few minutes now."

Jack's face was half covered by the flat-black dome of her combat helmet, but the lower section covering her mouth was transparent, and her full lips twitched into a smirk. "You gonna get upset if I shoot down some of the slaving assholes we find here?"

Shepard snorted. "You actually have to ask?" She unslung her sniper rifle, rolling her shoulder, and moved to the hatch.

Vigil's voice sounded. "...power sources within the facility, including those Prothean-style particle traces, are still quiescent. Heat signatures detected in several buildings outlying to the main tower. Suspected these are barracks. Secondary bombardment targeting updated. Primary bombardment will be breach of outer walls to south and GTS defenses."

Shepard nodded. "Alright. Time on target?"

"Thirty seconds."

She clicked her omni. "All units. Execute." No sooner than she finished that command, the ululating howl of the DACT rang out across the commlink, followed by Montoya's shouting. "Jump up jump up and get dooooown!"

Zaeed's sour voice came across the commlink. "Ah, fuck, she brought goddamned lunatics."

Seconds later the ground below exploded into angry blazes of orange light, missiles lancing down from above, blasting apart the southern expanse of the wall. Huge fireballs from some kind of storage facility with tanks atop it expanded, blasts of thunderous sound ringing out across the landscape.

Shepard hammered the hatch control. "Let's go."

The shuttle soared over the walls, coming down in an empty courtyard like expanse between three heavily reinforced buildings of armaplast with large cargo doors on each side. Shepard rolled out first, moving rapidly into the low cover of a stack of crates stamped with turian markings where cheap canvas didn't cover them. Jack leapt out a second later, landing in a feral looking crouch, bringing up a barrier field even as Kiala, Tali and Dost jumped down.

More heavy explosions rang out to the south and now the north, and alarms began to blare, along with shouting in the distance in the rough utterances of korogish. Shepard gestured with her sniper. "Along the walls to the south, move."

They crouch-walked around the southernmost of the warehouse buildings, even as streaks of light began to fall out of the sky, scattering mechs as they landed. The screaming whine of mini-guns and the muted boom of lance cannons rang out.

Vigil's voice sounded in her ear as she reached a corner. "GTS defenses coming online. Local control? _Really_? Why not smoke signals why you're at it, primitives?"

Shepard tapped her omni. "Retarget and suppress, now."

Vigil didn't bother responding, as mass accelerator rounds from above slammed into a tower some eighty feet ahead, blasting apart the slowly rotating GTS missile bank there. Explosions and burning debris scattered in all directions, a large chunk of wreckage crashing through the wall of another nearby building, sending up clouds of heavy smoke.

Shepard couldn't argue with that, and lead her little team forwards, keeping her sniper rifle moving at all times. As they hit the next warehouse, the tramp of feet running was audible. A rough voice barked orders. "Spread out! Pattern gritktah. Guresh is powering up the tomkahs now, but we got intrusions from north and south, we need the big guns."

A line of heavily armored krogan, each in black plates of armor with the warped insignia of a krogan hand in bright blue paint on the massive shoulder plate, stomped into the wide area between yet more warehouses, one of them hurling open the massive cargo doors to reveal racks of missile launchers.

Shepard cursed. "Jack, blow those things up. Everyone else, suppression fire for effect." She lunged out of cover into a roll, fetching up behind a low wall, and brought up her sniper rifle, sighting in on the krogan barking orders.

She fired, the round lashing out to cleanly blow a hole in the krogan's face, splashing orange ichor and bits of helmet across the faces of his subordinates. A second later a giant, roiling ball of warpfire smashed into the racks of weapons inside the warehouse, splitting into three just before impact.

The detonation was massive, powerful enough to knock even Shepard to her knees, a flare of heat glazing the concrete around her. Armacrete flashed into boiling slag and was flung out in a deadly semicircle, splashing over many of the nearby krogan, melting through them or covering them in scaldingly hot debris. Dozens of krogan fell near the far edges of the blast.

The huge plume of superheated debris and explosive fury rose up into a small mushroom cloud, even as the shockwave crumpled door entries, shattered lights, and sent both Kiala and Tali flying. Cursing, the smaller form of Tali got to her feet, bringing up her omni and launching drones. Kiala curled up against the wall, shaking her wrist tenderly before picking up her weapon.

That krogan could survive such a blast was not unheard of, so when a handful of enraged howls burst through the clouds of thick black smoke pouring out in all directions, followed by glimpses of charging figures, Shepard was ready. She dropped into one of the stances Ahern had drilled her in and began firing.

A snapshot took out the lead krogan, the shot carving into his knee, dropping him and tripping the two behind him. She shot one of them in the head and carried her barrel to the right, her automatic senses bringing it around just enough to fire two more shots, each catching running krogan right in the center of their heads.

One pitched to the ground dead, the other staggered back, clutching its ruined helmet and screaming in agony. A burst of rounds from the crouched form of Dost dropped it, even as six more ran towards them with krogan war cries.

Jack merely laughed. "Hello, dead people!" Her whole body flared deep blue as she flung out her hands, a surging wave of radiance expanding through the ground to erupt in a curved semicircle of glittering blue fire, shaped into long spikes. She could only hold it for a second, but in that second four krogan impaled themselves on warpfire, their armor curling back and the biotic flames scorching them from the inside out.

One krogan jumped the low barrier, right into the path of Kiala, who unloaded her Reegar directly into the krogan's face before kicking out his knee savagely. As the krogan stumbled, the quarian ejected a lance of plasma from her omni-tool into the center mass of the krogan, dropping him with a resounding thud.

Another one bulled through the flames, roaring in defiance, and Tali triggered her own omni. The krogan's large caliber shotgun suddenly detonated in his hands, seconds before his armor locked up and his power cells cooked off. Chunks of his armor sprayed out in burning fragments as the lower third of his torso simply turned to mist, even as Tali calmly hurled an incineration blast to finish him off.

Even as the first wave dropped, two more charged ahead, firing as they went. Jack hissed as rounds broke her barrier, ducking behind a piece of debris.

Shepard, seeing their charge would let them get them in close quarters range of Tali, dropped her sniper and entered into the kanquess, her hands pulling free the warp sword and pushing her power into the core.

The night black blade burst into blue flame as she emerged, her swing slamming directly into the krogan on the left. She expected a feeling of impact, of resistance, and overbalanced a bit when the weapon sheared said krogan completely in half, both sections tumbling to the ground a moment later.

The other krogan adjusted its charge, roaring and swinging a fist augmented by a power gauntlet. Shepard flung herself to one side, and lashed out with a strong kick, enhanced with biotics. Her foot crashed through the krogan's splintering armor, stopping him dead in his place, and she spun around from the impact, the warp sword slashing through his bulky, outthrust hip to sever his right leg in a flash of blue and black.

The krogan fell back howling in agony, and she reversed the weapon, driving it home into his face, the helmet providing no meaningful resistance. She tore it free a moment later, grimacing as she let the biotic fire die.

"...shit."

Jack stared at the two sliced up krogan, then shook her head. "Complete fucking _hax_."

**O-TWCD-O**

The krogan knelt before the elevated control station, with its many display windows and control panels, his deep voice edged with panic. "Mighty War-father, the perimeter – "

The deep, smooth voice that answered, rich in tone and amused, calmed his fears. "I am aware of the intruders, Gorash. I am frankly shocked this didn't happen earlier, given the typical idiocy of those like Jedore who cannot understand the needs of my work."

Ganar Okeer rose to his full height, his bronze armor half hidden under black robes, his broad and unscarred muzzle twisting into a grin. "These intruders will find we are not toothless varren. Ignore the thrust from the south, the Blue Suns are no doubt here to loot and pillage. The northern force is the true threat."

The smaller krogan nodded, his armor more elaborate than those of his fellows fearfully crowding the far doorway. "I sent a squad to get the missiles from the eastern storage sheds, but the storage area exploded and I can't get them on comms."

Okeer turned thoughtfully to a control panel, touching several buttons. The screen flipped through several grainy images before settling on one showing a shattered, burning building, black smoke pouring into the sky, and the still, twisted forms of krogan scattered about.

The barest flicker of movement caught his eye, and standing out against the dark walls and dull armaplast decking, the white armor and the black sword gleaming in warpfire was obvious. Okeer reared back, his bulbous eyes narrowing.

"...so. The strike against the pirates disrupting the work on the Broker's escape project was no fluke after all, if the Butcher is here." His voice hardened. "Prepare to move the Project into my pinnace, and send everything you have to the east, now. Seal the tower. And power up the comm relay immediately."

Okeer dismissed his servant, his large steps carrying him across the room, where his hand wrapped around the handle of his battle hammer, _God-Splitter_. As he took it from the wall and hefted it in his hands, his smile widened.

"At last...perhaps a _decent_ fight awaits me."

He touched a panel on his comm console, his speaker system coming online.

"Come, aliens. Show me what passes for fury among your misbegotten kind."


	20. Arc II Boss Fight : Korlus, Okeer

_**A/N**:_

_This is the fight you've been waiting for. And, since people have had problems with 'last minute saves' or other people kill-stealing from Shepard...I've adjusted for that.  
_

_Korlus is obviously much different than in canon. _

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications._

EDIT: Minor fixes

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_'__Every warrior dies, and how one dies is utterly meaningless. It is the when and the why that separates fool from hero, that defines a failure to the race from one who strides across legend and eternity to sit at the foot of the gods of myth and song.'_

_Doctor Ganar Okeer, 'The Irrelevance of Perspective', one of the few literary works produced by krogan  
_

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The Takara Ship-breaking Dock had become a war-zone of horrors in a matter of minutes.

Explosions, both from the liberal amount of heavy weapons on both sides of the conflict and the heavy bombardment by the Normandy, had blown open hazardous materials containers and fuel tanks.

Thousands of tons of toxic chemicals spewed from ruptured tanks, some corrosive and damaging whatever they splashed over, others merely poisonous. Clouds of toxic gasses spiraled into the sky, shredded by winds and scattering to the east in diffuse masses, killing birds and other aerial wildlife flying through them.

Given that Korlus was hardly the sort of place to attract environmental activists or animal rights protesters, the damage being done to the environment was unlikely to even register on a planet once used to crash wrecked ships just to clear the trade lanes.

Okeer's krogan army was hardy and difficult to kill, and they waded through such hazards with disdain. Many emerged sporting horrific looking chemical burns that only fueled their blood rage to higher heights, while others in more expensive armor were nearly immune to such dangers.

The Firestorm merc company, using more incendiary and conventional weapons, didn't run into such issues. Moving carefully from cover to cover, under the profane and pointed orders from their leader, their northern approach was mostly free of the hazardous materials tanks anyway. Krogan rushed their lines in haphazard waves, roaring out war-cries – only to run into the omni-mines and incendiary grenades thrown by the Firestorm.

Shepard's mech force ranged far ahead of Miranda's team, identifying areas of concentrated hazmat to avoid. The Normandy Marines, honed by battles on Virmire and New Louisiana, fired for effect, not mere explosions, and the mechs used heavy weapons like a normal human would use an assault rifle. The krogan that charged their positions met precise, murderous fire, and their own attacks bounced impotently off the super-heavy armor of the marines.

It damaged the mechs, but the Inusannon metals in their construction merely flowed back together sluggishly in mere minutes, and the robots continued their slow, dreadful advance, weapons firing as they implacably crushed their foes.

The Blue Suns, however, in their haste to acquire as much military hardware as they could, did not fully consider the ramifications of the battlefield. Almost sixty of them died nearly instantly when a clever krogan launched missiles at a hazmat tank, spraying the lightly armored mercs with boiling fluoride. The krogan took advantage of the chaos, three groups of them swinging around to flank the Suns, who found their line of retreat cut off by burning hazardous materials, their advance blunted by dug in krogan, and their cover slowly being threatened by the explosions all around them.

Jedore's advance stalled, even as the few GTS defenses still online began firing back in their earnest at the Normandy's swooping bombardment runs. The ship jinked and dodged as well as possible, but it was larger and much more massive than the old Normandy, and she took several vicious hits from missiles. Not that they did a lot of good against cyclonic barriers and Silaris armor, but it prevented the Normandy from aiding the Blue Suns mercs.

Given Jedore's near-panic at the idea of the Butcher visiting her camp, Shepard found herself not really giving much of a shit if the woman and her mercs lived or died.

Shepard could only smirk as she tore through another band of krogan, smashing her fist directly into one's gut hard enough to shatter his armor and immerse her arm into his insides. He gave a horrific scream that was choked off as she flared warpfire inside him, followed by a hard push that sent him flying off her now bloodstained arm and tumbling into three more charging krogan.

Jack was laughing insanely at her own opponent, a krogan biotic who was hurling shockwaves and blasts of warpfire at her, only for her to bat them aside or turn them back on him. She snarled as she limberly leapt aside from one such flare of energy, her own biotics erupting out in a bright white lash-like effect that tore the krogan's left arm off, sending blood splashing about.

She then turned to another krogan, charging at her with a shotgun, flinging a push field that picked him up off his feet and sent him smashing into the wall hard enough to splatter, orange liquids erupting in gory sprays between his now crumpled armor.

The first krogan she'd engaged staggered back, looking almost comically at his now missing arm only a second before roaring incomprehensibly. Jack flung out her hand again, focusing her will on a heavy scrap beam to one side, blue glows outlining it as it was pulled free. The I-beam flew through the air, impacting the krogan in the back and slamming him into the nearby outer wall hard enough that his hump ruptured, spraying orange carnage all over the wall in mess not far from where the other krogan had been smashed.

Tali and Kiala were back to back, circled by a ring of hotly glowing drones, spraying attacks in all directions, Tali's omni-shield deflecting the sloppy incoming fire from the krogan they had pinned down. Dost calmly put shots from his rifle into each on, pausing only to throw grenades when they tried to charge. Krogan died all around them – melted, harried, blasted by missiles, their weapons overheating and detonating in their hands, armor locking up and spraying medigel uselessly into the air.

The one krogan who managed to win through the barrage of fire missed his wild swing at Tali.

She plucked the omni-knife out of one of her boots, and drove it home into the edge of the krogan's plate. He jerked back screaming in agony until her Reegar erupted, melting his upper body into white-glowing slag.

"...krth'ka! Ruined my knife." Tali's voice was peeved as she turned to shoot another krogan.

Shepard ducked under the slow punch of an equally wildly charging krogan, backhanding him hard enough to send him to the ground. The krogan looked at her incredulously even as blood streamed from his shattered muzzle. "Impossible!"

She unslung her ODIN II with one hand, placing a fiery blast of burning hot uranium hexafloride into his skull, shattering his upper torso armor along with it. "Deal with it." Kicking the mess of the krogan's body out her way, she tapped her comm link. "Vigil? Status."

Vigil's voice sounded in her ear. "I am down six mechs, two more are immobile but repairing. The krogan are rallying. Miranda has pulled into a very tight, secure defensive location and my mechs are backing her up, but the HAMMERHEAD is pinned down covering their location. You do not have much time before the krogan overwhelm the Blue Suns and turn in your direction – it will be some time before we can put this group down to assist you."

Pausing to throw a pair of plasma grenades at the three krogan still tangled in the corpse of the one she'd gut-punched and fried up from the inside, she glanced up, where a tower – seemingly converted from the wreck of an old turian cruiser – loomed overhead. "Understood." She tapped her omni. "Zaeed, status?"

As the rest of her small squad finished off the last of the krogan, the rough voice of the merc sounded loudly in her ear, along with the roar of plasma throwers and screaming krogan. "It's guddamned _wonderful_, if you like fighting idiots and crazies." There was a pause, and the sound of a roaring krogan demanding blood for his 'War-father', followed by the ominous humming sound of a power maul charging up, and a truly appalling meaty thud.

Zaeed muttered. "Well, he's not getting any of _mine_."

Shepard snorted. "How far can you push?" She moved along the nearest wall, eyes peeled for movement. A troop of krogan hustled towards the wall in the distance but didn't see them, and she motioned her team forwards.

"Dunno. Lot of krogan in here, most of them fight like absolute shit. Shitty armor, shotguns. Not much of a good matchup for my boys. But there's a handful in black armor that are right fucking nasty."

Tali nudged the black-armored form at her feet and tilted her head in a skeptical manner, but Shepard merely grinned wider. "Understood. My people are pinned a hundred meters north of the tower – see if you can help them out."

Shepard clicked off. "Let's move." They moved carefully along a narrow, filthy alleyway between two large warehouses, the end blocked by old crates that Shepard shoved out of the way. The boxes spilled into a large, metalled road, leading straight to the heavy converted cargo bay doors that formed the main tower entrance.

A squad of krogan in heavy black armor loomed near the door, most of them carrying heavy machine guns, and one lugging around an elcor ion bombard. She winced at the last weapon – that could actually hurt even her. She glanced around the area for cover, and turned back to her team.

"Squad at the front door. One of them has a fucking bombard. Jack, hit them with your heavy shit while I throw a singularity. Tali, Kiala, pin the rest down with missiles and grenades. Dost, put as many shots as you can into the one with the bombard before he brings it to bear."

The lieutenant gave a firm nod. Shepard put away her ODIN and drew out her Harrier, pausing to flip to armor piercing rounds. "On three."

A few seconds later, Shepard and Jack rushed out in unison. The smaller woman, with a yell of focus, hurled out a pair of warpfire blobs, barely in control but huge in size. These splashed violently at both sides of the krogan at the door, melting a hole in the doorway while setting most of them on fire.

Shepard's singularity arrived along with the missile barrage of the quarians, the resulting combined biotic and conventional explosions rocking the entire area. Pieces of krogan flesh, armor, and bits of unidentified scorched metal rained down as they charged forward, even as more alarms began to blare.

A small squad of krogan stormed out of one of the side alleys, but didn't get two steps before a ball of glowing gray-green light hit the leader, erupting into a blinding explosion. A moment later, the white-hot flash of a DACT dropping from above crashed into the rest of the group, sending one krogan flailing to the ground with his entire skull smashed a good foot into his torso. Montoya came to his feet, firing his BRKR rail-gun at one of the surviving krogan, the green ball blasting off most of the krogan's upper body with a single shot.

She smirked as Florez came down a moment later, pausing to fire his lance cannon at point blank range at the last moving krogan. "Boss Lady! Lawson told us to follow you, secure the entrance to the tower. We'll keep the assholes off your back."

She nodded, moving towards the gore-spattered and damaged entry way. "Good. Fall back if it gets too hot – the mercs should be incoming sooner or later."

They entered the tower, the normal hard lines of turian construction heavily altered, but still recognizable. The large room beyond the doors – once, some kind of cargo bay – had been heavily converted over to some kind of mass storage bay, while heavily reinforced elevators had been installed along the far wall. Stacks of building materials and hoppers of various ores were haphazardly shoved against the walls, along with what looked like sleeping pallets made of animal hides.

Tali dispatched two smaller drones to scout. "I'm not picking up any large power sources except near the upper sections, but … smaller sources are two floors above us."

Kiala, on the other hand, was examining an ODN dataport on one side of the walls. "Shepard, we can access some of his network from here. Not sure how much control he has over this ship, but turians install some very nasty anti-boarding defenses. If those are still active..."

Shepard nodded. "I figured we'd run into something like this. I want you two to stay here – and hack what you can. I know you two can handle yourselves... but Okeer is big leagues, and this isn't the time to be brushing off rust. Dost, can you keep her safe? The DACT are right outside to back you up, and I'll have Miranda's group move in as quick as she can get here."

The big man nodded. "Yeah. We'll do what we can from here and catch up if need be." He slung his rifle, and moved to start shoving some crates around to provide cover.

Kiala, for her part, pulled some kind of kit out of her belt. "Probably for the best." Her tone became a touch worried. "I am, after seeing the soldiers we have faced so far, less certain of our odds against this Okeer himself."

Shepard frowned but nodded. "That was sort of my thought. I just don't have enough people I can depend on to make up a real squad yet. Stay here, and comm me if you get into trouble."

A moment later, the entire tower shook, the lights flickering, and additional alarms rang out. She glanced around, eventually moving towards the elevators, tapping her commlink. "Vigil?"

The dry voice of the AI was amused. "Jedore appears...unamused at her losses. She is having artillery bombard some of the inner areas. I have blunted most approaches to your position by way of missile strikes, but we are now taking some minor damage to the Normandy. Miranda is moving her force out behind the battle tank towards the tower, the krogan assault on their position was … poorly planned."

She nodded, tapping a control on the elevator even as Jack and Tali stepped onto the large platform. It began ascending with a jerk. "Understood. The two DACT are guarding the entrance, and Dost and Kiala found an ODN port they're going to try to hack. Instruct her to move the force closer to the tower."

"Understood, Shepard. So far, I've intercepted and jammed all outgoing transmissions. Be aware whatever those Prothean power sources I picked up earlier were they are within the tower and now active."

She nodded, clicking off. The elevator platform rose smoothly through a hole cut into a structural bulkhead, smoothly coming to a stop flush with the rough metallic platform built into it that formed a ramp. A series of handholds and a crude pictograph instructing krogan to grab onto the handholds was painted in blue on one wall, and Shepard followed the instructions.

She was flipped in mid air, letting go of the handholds to land perpendicular to the surface of Korlus. "He's got the ship's power-core on, and the artificial gravity. Just grab the handles and let it flip you around."

Tali and Jack followed, the latter a bit more clumsily, as Shepard checked out the far bulkhead door. She glanced back. "Drones find anything?"

Tali shook her head. "No. The other shaft ends up in a room like this, with sealed doors as well. I'd say we were roughly midships given the size of the cruiser."

Shepard pulled her ODIN shotgun, frowning at the idea of close-quarters combat with hordes of krogan. "Why can't Okeer be goddamned stupid with his defenses? Jack, please tell me you did what I asked and had mag-linings put into those boots?"

The ex-convict nodded sourly. "Yeah, not sure why you wanted me to though. Or why the hell it matters."

Shepard engaged her own mag-boot system. "Because with the gravity being generated by the ship and us like this, if he turns it off we'd go falling the length of the cruiser. Let's go."

Moving more slowly and deliberately due to the magboots, Shepard opened the next set of bulkhead doors. The space beyond was some kind of common living area – heavy hide rugs flanked a sort of open kitchen, surrounded by low metallic countertops and a trio of large-scale industrial refrigerators. Heavy hammocks of rough canvas were slung in rows along the walls, while a haptic screen on the forward wall was still showing some kind of action movie.

Eight krogan were in the room, five of them wearing reddish armor, the other three black armor. Tucked behind a series of armored barricades near the front of the room, the krogan ducked down immediately as the doors boomed open. All were already tucked into cover, and as the bulkhead finished opening, began throwing grenades.

Shepard cursed, using a push field to deflect the explosives as she searched in vain for any decent cover. As the grenades exploded in the krogan's faces, she found herself without any good options. The best she could do was the flimsy looking set of storage shelves along one wall. She hustled into cover as best she could with the magboots, firing with the ODIN to keep the krogan suppressed.

Tali simply triggered her omni-shield, the slight forms of herself and Jack both able to use it for cover. While Tali's drones surged forward, spraying flame, Jack flung a burst of blue energy. Ugly roiling masses of biotic energy smashed down on three of the krogan on the right. Two of them were merely knocked from their cover, cursing – the third, hit more directly, was flung onto his own barricade with tremendous force. The cheap metal splintered as it was driven into the krogan's chest and face, hunks of metal bursting out of his back in eruptions of orange.

The krogan, of course, did not like this, and four of them charged out, firing shotguns at the omni-shield. Shepard hurled a singularity, lifting them from their feet, and followed it up by a heavy throw. Jack acted at the same time with a push.

The biotic forces interacted violently, a biotic explosion shaking the room. Two of the krogan were hurled against the walls with sickening cracks, hard enough to dent it. One krogan went flying into two different directions, as most of the armor on his back went through his own body to tear out his front.

The final black armored krogan bulled through the explosion, however, smoking. "**I AM ANGRY**!"

Tali stepped out and shot him in the face with the Reegar, the electro-plasma burst searing through the helmet to melt a gaping hole in the krogan's upper body and head. As the krogan skidded to the ground past Tali, smearing the decking with burned flesh and bits of orange, she spoke in a deadpan tone. "And now you are dead, bosh'tet."

Shepard chuckled, even as she fired several times at the last standing krogan, the shots punching right through the heavy armor. It staggered, and Shepard kicked off the ground to disengage her magboots before she kanquessed behind the krogan even as it tried to fire back. Her ODIN came up to the back of its head and barked once, blasting it to the ground. She put two more shots into the krogan, and then a few more into the ones by the wall, before grunting.

"Well, they certainly take more killing than pirates." She glanced at the only way out, another large bulkhead door, the red access lock indicating it was clearly sealed. "Tali, you'll have to hack the door."

Before Tali could even move, the haptic screen on the front wall flickered and darkened, the images of the movie being replaced with the smiling image of Doctor Okeer. "Fascinating. Would you be so kind to indulge my curiosity as to why you are attacking my works, Butcher?"

She slowly turned to face the screen, scowling behind her helmet. "...Doctor Okeer. Mass murder, slaving filth, and in league with the Reapers, Collectors and the Shadow Broker. You're supposedly a smart krogan, so it should be obvious why I am here."

The figure's eyes narrowed, a genial, almost pleased chuckle emerging from his massive mouth. "Ah, exquisite. When I first saw your taunting videos, linking yourself with the Sisters of Vengeance and the Archangel, I wondered why you would not also announce your antipathy for my esteemed colleague. But your mention of the Reapers and Collectors...you are not what you seem."

Shepard gestured to the door, and Tali moved ahead. "Why is it every fucker I kill wants to give me a _goddamned speech_?"

Okeer's smile widened. "I myself blame the exposure of most cultures to turian melodrama. But I digress. Your ill-advised assault will soon come to a violent and ugly end, as soon as the many friends I have in the planetary defense force receive my alarms."

She smirked. "Yeah, about that. They sort of aren't getting through." She paused. "In honor of the original Butcher...you have one chance to surrender. If you don't take it, you are dead."

His rich baritone pissed her off as he laughed. "I am disinclined to submit to your form of justice, asari. But amusement is never a poor thing. Come, behold my works and my brilliance, and when you draw your last breath – understand what I do here is only to save my people."

The screen went dead, and Shepard snorted. "Tali?"

"...bosh'tet...de-centralized..._stupid_..." A moment later, with a spray of sparks, the doorway shuddered open, Tali's omni-tool ceasing to glow. "Sorry. His security systems are built on top of the turian ones, and they're not easy to get past."

Shepard moved up, ODIN ready, and nodded. "Stay behind me and be ready to drop behind your omni-shield, Tali. Jack, I may need a quick barrier – turian ships are setup to make life difficult for boarders."

They spent a few minutes moving through a series of large rooms. Shepard was not sure what they'd been designed for on the turian ship this once was, but mostly they were now used as living quarters or storerooms.

They came out into a wide, spacious horizontal corridor, with several doors leading off of it and a trio of elevator shafts. Tali gestured to the elevators. "Those should take us from this bottom deck towards the upper decks where command and control is likely to be."

Shepard nodded, even as the center elevator chimed. "Shit, cover."

The three moved towards the low barricades set into the middle of the corridor, as the doors to the elevator slid open. For a moment, nothing happened, then a heavily armored reinforced leg stepped out.

Shepard's eyes widened as a heavily reinforced krogan with heavy cybernetic conversion stepped out of the lift, coming to its full height a second later. Thick plates of armor covered the krogan's chest and thighs, while the arms each ended in strange, green-lit canisters of what looked like some kind of beige flesh, with several tubes running from the canisters to the torso.

The tips of the canisters were glowing green crystals. The head of the krogan was the most horrific – the lower jaw replaced with a plate of metal, the eyes covered with a wide band of cybernetics, black lenses and glowing sensors, and sections of what looked like circuitry and cyberware visible under clear armaglass sections of the skull, along with the brain.

Okeer's mocking voice rang out. "Saren's clumsy butcheries of my people were hardly worth keeping around, but the concept for augmenting the bodies of krogan too wounded to be of any further use was certainly sound. My friends the Collectors suggested a few _improvements_ of their own. I fear I am far too busy to crush your feeble bodies myself, so I sent my associate here to do so."

The giant krogan growled, omni-armor flickering to life all over the cybernetic body, and Shepard cursed hotly and thoroughly. She scrambled to one side a second later, as two carving beams of pure particle energy sheared through her cover, blasting it into smoking metallic scrap.

Vigil's voice rang in her earpiece in alarm. "What is this? Those are Prothean shear-class particle rifle blasts!"

She slid behind another barricade, popping up to open fire with her Harrier. The bright rounds impacted the krogan with no real effect, the omni-armor not even flickering. Tali's mini-missile barrage didn't even stagger it as it stepped forward.

Jack hurled a spear of warpfire, which began to waver as it got closer. Jack winced as her strike splashed, burning warp energy blackening the armored surface of its chest but not much else. "Shit! Thing is packing a goddamned phase nullifier!"

Grimacing, Shepard put away her Harrier, drawing her ODIN. "Keep in cover, girls." She amped her response time and slaved her reflexes to her sensors, then pushed all her biotic energy towards her speed and strength.

Mass accelerator fire could be dodged most times because she could literally see the person about to fire, her systems calculating the trajectory and moving her out of the way before they even pulled the trigger. This particle beam blast, however, was not going to be so easy to dodge, as it had no tells indicating it would be firing.

She flashed into the kanquess, firing as she went, blasting glowing craters into the mega-krogan's armor. With a grunt it rounded on her, a small rack of mini-missiles lashing out to strike her.

The impacts struck her barrier, shattering it, and her kinetic barrier came up automatically, flickering into place just in time to take the impact of the two particle beams. She barely ducked out of the way before they blasted towards her, wincing as one melted a line right through her armor. Alarms blared in her cybernetic vision, even as omnigel and medigel flooded the impact site.

"Fuck!" Slapping down the switch on her ODIN, she moved to the krogan's right, going full auto-fire, blasting at its legs. Chunks of heavy armor flew off, as black liquids seeped out of the wound, but the creature ignored the damage.

It lashed out again with the particle beams, green energy carving smoking lines into the decking as Shepard fell back again. "Vigil, can I take a direct hit from those things?"

The voice of the AI was lower than usual. "It is not _advisable_, even for you. But it is almost certain death for your allies."

She nodded. "Tali! Jack! Stay back and in cover, harry it when you can."

Jack hurled more warp fire, mixing thin strikes with heavy blobs, but most of it grew diffuse as it approached the thing. "Yeah, no shit!" She followed her strike up with a shotgun blast, making the thing stagger as it turned in Jack's direction.

Using that opening, Shepard kanquessed to the krogan's side. She fired point blank into its left knee, then rolled backwards, using a push to get distance rapidly, wincing at the pins-and-needles sensation of a truly strong pulse dissipator somewhere inside the creature.

It roared, even as two drones appeared, peppering it with flame blasts and small-scale plasma darts. A lance of green blew one drone apart, while the other arm swung out like a bludgeon, shattering the omni-construct in a single blow.

Tali's voice warbled in worry. "Nothing we have is even denting the thing!"

Shepard came out of her roll, shipping her ODIN, instead pulling out grenades – one a heavy EMP burst, the other one an omni-goop grenade, designed to fling about a mass of rapidly hardening omnigel. "You forgetting what the admiral taught us already, Tali?"

The quarian's voice was wary. "That he's a sneaky bosh'tet with Tourette's?"

Despite the danger, Shepard found herself laughing as she threw the two grenades. The EMP burst washed over the thing. While its own systems were apparently resistant, the omni-armor segments over its legs and head faded. Then the goop grenade detonated, ropy strings of omnigel tying it to the ground.

The thing struggled, one arm pinned to its side, and Shepard moved. "Nope! When in trouble, fucking cheat!"

She came in hard from the side with the arm pinned, drawing her warp sword and pushing as much strength as she could into the blade. She slashed out, the black blade carving into the flesh pod of the left arm. This time she actually felt resistance to the weapon, and her slash came to a juddering stop as it hit something dense.

She pulled her blade out and rolled to the side as the thing tried to turn. Jack took this opportunity to hammer it with more shotgun blasts, and Tali added her input in several blasts of electrical discharges. Shepard's blade slashed down, cutting through the back of the giant's knee, then upwards, sinking deep into its chest.

With a roar of pain the thing surged upwards, the arm tearing free to bat Shepard away. She flew a good twenty feet back to slam hard against a barricade which crumbled, her ODIN and sniper flying off her back and her warp sword slipping from her hands to clatter on the ground.

Shepard spat blood inside her helmet, wincing as scrolling haptics from her cybernetic eyes reported the damage. She rolled, picking up her blade and triggered her energy systems, augmenting her strength to the max.

She felt a hot sort of burning sensation in her body, but ignored it. A particle beam punched through her right shoulder, her armor melting and splashing under the hit, but she spun around and kept charging. She gritted her teeth at the agony in her shoulder, using the pain editor to cut it off. With a leap she moved into the kanquess, angling up so that she came out just above the thing's head.

With every bit of strength she had, she swung the blade down hard on the krogan's head, letting her own momentum drive the blade home and force it down. As she fell, both hands on the weapon, her own weight forced the weapon deeper, carving a line of gore down the back of the krogan's head and back. She landed, tearing her weapon free and throwing all her strength into a kick at the base of the krogan's spine, grunting with the effort.

The thing staggered and then fell, the remaining omni-goop compromising its balance. Without actual hands, it fell hard on its outstretched gun-arm, and the weight was too much. The flesh pod burst in a spray of green crystals, blood, and black ichor, with a burst of streams of green energy that lashed out in all directions.

Jack hissed as one of the beams seared her right arm, burning through her armor. Tali managed to duck behind her omni-shield, which flickered and nearly crumbled under the blast. Shepard kanquessed back just in time. The bulk of the green energy blasted the krogan, most of it pouring through the center mass of the creature in a torrent that melted a hole in the outer walls, letting in sunlight.

Shepard came out of the kanquess, wincing and cutting off her augmented strength and speed. Nausea assailed her, as did a hollow feeling in her stomach. She checked the damage to her shoulder, wincing at the sight of ugly, gray myomer muscles speckled with blood, noting that it didn't want to move very much, although there was no pain due to the pain editor.

She had of course known she was mostly cybernetic, but seeing it openly like that – and being able to cut off the pain – was still unsettling. Her armor was reporting some minor failures, the servos in the shoulder completely destroyed. With a shiver, she killed the energy to her warp sword. "You two okay?"

Jack was pulling out an medigel patch. "Yeah. Thing fried my upper arm when it blew itself up." The wound on her arm was an ugly red, with blisters already forming around it, and the edge of her omni-armor gauntlet was half-melted. "FUCK this hurts." She poured the medigel across the wound, hissing as she did so. "And the shit fucked my ink up."

Shepard shook her head. "You nearly get your arm blown off and you're worried about tats? Priorities, Jack." She turned to Tali. "You good?"

Tali stood, moving cautiously towards the krogan, hands on her Reegar. "I'm fine. Are you?"

Shepard grimaced as she stood. "Just fucking peachy. Can't use the kind of fancy tactics we picked up on Pinnacle in close combat with ...whatever the fuck that thing was." Taking a deep breath, she looked at the elevator the thing had come out of. "Catch your breath real fast, but we need to keep moving."

She tapped her commlink first though. "Dost?"

The sounds of gunfire erupted across the commlink. "Here, ma'am. Big pack of krogan showed up. The two DACT are inside with us, the big guns are keeping 'em off of us for now, but they're pushing hard. Lawson is trying to get through but more krogan are swarming the place...not sure if she can punch through."

Shepard winced. "Any luck with the hacking?"

Kiala's voice was even more waspish sounding than usual. "Some. I've locked out his control of the ship's power systems and shut down most of the defenses. The area of the flag bridge is under local control and the system hard lines have been severed somewhere, so I can't affect that area. There's a pinnace bay adjacent to the flag bridge I also cannot access, but internal sensors report he has a pinnace being fueled."

Shepard nodded. "What about the surveillance systems?"

"I'm working – but whoever is in the system is _good_, Shepard. Very good. I can keep him locked out of the power and defenses, but pushing through to other subsystems is looking like it's beyond me"

Shepard nodded. "When Miranda's people push through, she's got robots run by Vigil – he can help. Until then do what you can, and if it gets too hot, blow the entry way to seal it and retreat up the elevators."

"Will do."

Shepard killed the comm, as Jack finished drinking a bottle of energy drink while Tali applied a more complete medigel patch to the wound in the woman's arm. Shepard moved her own wounded shoulder, grimacing at the lack of a full range of motion, and then moved towards them.

"We can kill the mag-boots. Kiala has the defenses and power controls down. But we gotta move, she says he's fueling a pinnace near the flag bridge."

Tali nodded, finishing her quick first aid. "Just watch the arm, Jack. Whatever that was burned you pretty badly, and medigel is not the best thing for burns..."

The young biotic flexed her arm experimentally, and nodded. "...thanks."

Shepard tapped the elevator controls, the doors sliding open smoothly. The control panel inside the car had blocky scrawls of korogish over the elegant claw-like turian scripts, but her omni-tool could translate both. She hit the appropriate button for the flag bridge deck and squared her shoulders. "You two ready?"

Tali shrugged. "I'm as ready as I can be. Just in case, though, I had Sedanya prep for more cybernetic surgery." Her voice turned dry. "I seem to have a habit of losing bits and pieces in the bigger fights."

Shepard didn't know whether to laugh or feel horrible. She blew out a breath. "Tali..."

The quarian shook her head. "I'm kidding, Shepard." Her voice turned more serious. "Before, I was not ready. Admiral Ahern was right. I was a stupid child, convinced of her own importance, and too scared of being sent away to admit I had no place in those fights."

She adjusted her grip on her Reegar. "I'm not the same person as I was back then. I've trained and I understand now what he was trying to get me to see." The glowing eyes met hers through the faceplate. "Besides...aside from some of your marines, who else has been here from the start? You need to know you have your back covered."

Shepard felt a warm sense of gratitude flow through her, some of her tension flowing away. "And you don't know how much better I feel knowing that, Tali. I'm sorry at the shit you've had to go through."

Tali shrugged. "It has ended up with me living a life I am more pleased with than being some idiotic child on the Flotilla. Keelah, can you imagine how I'd have turned out if I had gone back, without Jeff in my life, just listening to my father?"

Jack sneered. "Do you guys always fuckin' bond and shit before going out to kick ass?"

Shepard turned to glance at the biotic. "Bitterness would suit you a lot fucking better if you didn't try so hard to push people away, Jack." She felt an impulse to pinch the bridge of her nose and settled for a gusty sigh. "And no. I dragged Tali into complete fucking bullshit because I was a thoughtless clown … and I don't want this fight to go like the one against Saren did."

Jack's mulish expression flickered. "I thought you guys beat his ass?" She flexed her wounded arm again, wincing in pain, before glancing at Tali.

Tali's tone returned to dryness. "Yes, and we spent a week in the hospital, I lost a leg, and we nearly all died. Not to mention the _singing_."

Shepard grimaced herself. "Don't fucking remind me." She looked at the elevator. "Ah, goddamn it."

Tali looked up. "What?"

Shepard's voice was exasperated. "This is a fucking _turian_ elevator. We're gonna be here all day."

Jack did not understand why Tali burst into sudden laughter.

**O-TWCD-O**

"War-father, they come. We cannot hold the ones in white and blue back, they have slaughtered the companies of the host by the score! And the Butcher herself approaches, she has slaughtered the Protectors of the Tower and has thrown down the Mighty One."

Okeer stood in the middle of the flag bridge, his eyes moving from display to display, hammer still in his hands. "Calm yourself. This is actually performing a useful task. Our assault on Tuchanka will require us to fight past more than this. Use this experience to harden yourselves, and weed the weak from the strong."

The krogan's wide mouth grimaced. "But War-father, we have lost almost a fourth of our number already!"

Okeer merely smiled. "The cloning facilities will make such losses irrelevant in mere _days_. Truly, the Collectors do marvelous work." He straightened. "This is but a minor setback. While we have taken losses, if the last experiment batch is viable, we can recover. And regardless of the actions of the Butcher...everything is prepared. "

He looked pointedly at the smaller krogan. "The western facilities are secure? No attacks on the cloning chambers, or the females?"

The smaller krogan shook his head. "No, there have been no intrusions to the west. Both the cloning facility and the female living area are unharmed. We still have almost a third of our strength guarding that sector."

Okeer's bass voice rumbled. "Good – do not remove them from the protection of the area, they are the highest priority. Even if I die, as long as the females I have modified live on to escape, and the data from the cloning project is retained, eventually the krogan race will be redeemed."

With a motion of his hand, the eldest of all krogan gestured. "Take whatever forces remain in the Tower and fall back to the pinnace bay. I will meet the Butcher in combat personally. If I fall … you are to attempt to surrender to her."

The smaller krogan's eyes widened. "What!? But War-father – "

Okeer shook his massive head. "They have at least one atmosphere capable military vessel. The females and cloning tanks can be evacuated via tomkah before they could be overtaken – the pinnace with my legacy aboard will not escape so easily, and I doubt she will let you leave with it in peace. If she wishes to kill me, she is already too late to stop my masterstroke – but I will not allow my legacy to be destroyed. Answer her questions. Agree to her demands. But ensure she departs – with the Project."

The krogan frowned. "I thought the Project was still a failure."

Okeer's eyes bored into those of his servant. "I have not had the time to rectify his resistance to the tank imprints. But that does not mean he is a failure. I must plan for all possible outcomes, and the Broker may be treacherous still. He will serve as a form of ... _insurance_. Carry out my orders."

With a snarl, the lesser krogan withdrew from the room. Okeer turned back to his displays. He was a bit surprised that even the altered krogan hybrid had fallen to the Butcher, but she had not escaped unscathed herself. Her associates were curious, a quarian and a lightly armored human biotic. Hardly fitting to face himself, but he had not lived to his vast age by underestimating any opponents.

It would be an interesting fight. He glanced at the status panels in front of him, noting the Butcher and her people were ascending the elevator.

He lifted his head as his comm-screen illuminated. "War-father, this is Kassuk. We've broken the Suns unit to the south, although we cannot drive them out and they stole a great deal of materiel. Their artillery is damaging the tomkahs and the outer walls. The other mercenary group has been halted as well – they are fiercer, but lack the range of our missile launchers."

Okeer nodded. "And the group in blue and white?"

The krogan's voice growled. "They killed Ventah, she would not stay with the females and insisted on leading a strike. They have war robots like nothing I have ever seen in any of the imprints, War-father – even blasting them to the ground does not stop them!"

Okeer's mind was fascinated by such an idea. "Corral them. Capture one of these robots if possible. If not, drive them towards the tower."

"War-father, they are already headed towards the tower. You must evacuate! We will die to the last to cover your escape!"

Okeer gave a laugh. "Certainly not. I will not hide from weaklings behind my own children. Split your force – have half move to the western area and begin evacuating the females and the cloning data. Use the tomkahs there and head to the secondary fallback position. Do not give battle and ensure they get away. The rest of your men should head north and drive back the mercenaries there. If you can, recapture the comms antenna."

Kassuk's voice was firm. "Yes, War-father. But … what of you?"

Okeer smiled. "I have guests to entertain. The Ganar clan endures through all things." He clicked off, then smiled wider as a flashing alarm illuminated.

"It is time." Shrugging out of his black robes, the krogan warlord checked his omni-tool, then brought up his myriad defensive systems. Most Collector technology was biotechnological in origin, and the improvements he'd made to his battle armor and hammer were pinnacles of their craft.

He did not fear death, nor defeat. He'd transmitted the bulk of his findings almost three days prior, after all, and had seen off the first tithe of ships to the Broker's secret hold-fast – fifty females, and two hundred of his initial run of the Project. The krogan – his krogan – would survive the coming cleansing.

All krogan would hail the name Okeer, forever. Well, those who survived. The krogan of Tuchanka were most likely going to expire as they had lived, in blind rage and futility, but this is what came of not listening to their elder, after all.

**O-TWCD-O**

The elevator doors opened almost sullenly, into a wide bowl shaped deck. Pale blue carpet on the floor was dirtied and torn by the tramp of feet, and the wide observation windows looking out over Korlus were grimy.

The room was almost sixty feet long and twice as wide. Two heavy doors on either side were shut firmly, thick borders of metal indicating they were probably airlocks. The vast archway in the middle of the far wall, however, was open. Beyond it was another expansive room, nearly as large, curved into wishbone like shape similar to the Normandy's CIC.

In the middle was a plinth of some sort, control panels in gray-white haptics flanking it in a semicircle. Stepping down from the plinth, his footfalls heavy enough to jar them even from this distance, was the single largest krogan Shepard had ever seen in her life.

Broader across the shoulders and thicker in the chest than Wrex, Okeer's stance was almost hunched over. Thick plates of armor covered every inch of his form, save his face and crest, overlain with silvery-white omni-armor and traceries of some organic material in a pattern like veins over the bronze-colored metal. Powerful mass effect jets jutted from his boots, and his belt was festooned with small oblong spheres – the krogan version of grenades.

The huge hammer in his hands, however, was what held Shepard's attention. A thick haft of some kind of black-gray metal ended in a simply titanic curved arc of metal, the front end thickened and glowing with crackling black energies of some kind. The leather wrappings that wound around the length of the blade were leathery and darkish brown, and korogish runes were burned into the strips.

Okeer took a deep breath. "So, you have come, mighty Butcher." His eyes, bulbous and a chillingly cold green, flicked over the forms of Tali and Jack dismissively. "And with only two allies. Brave of you, child."

Shepard stepped forward, hands tight around her ODIN. "Look jackass, I'm on a fucking schedule. For once, can we skip the goddamned bleating and macho posing and just proceed straight to the part where I ventilate your stupid ass?"

Jack could not resist a grin at this, while Tali shook her head.

Okeer sighed. "How uncouth. But we must talk before I slay you, Butcher."

Behind her helmet her eyes narrowed. The chance that Okeer would actually surrender had to be basically _zero_ – but he was also the one person who had insight into what the Broker and Collectors were up to that they could get their hands on. And nothing was stopping her from giving the sick fuck to Wrex later on.

"The only discussion we need to have is if you're giving up or not. If the answer is no, then you have to die."

The krogan smiled. "If you do not agree to listen to my terms, we will all die."

Shepard frowned. Oh, really? How is that?"

He nodded. "I have seen much of your prowess in battle. I have ... not been idle, waiting for you to arrivel." He tapped his omni-tool, and harsh reddish light flooded his section of the flag bridge. "I have rigged this ship with exceedingly powerful neurotoxins. One command, and you, I, and everything else in this tower dies in excruciating pain. The toxins are derived from consumptive black nanotech – they will eat even through quarian environmental seals in mere minutes."

He spread his hands. "I have no doubt that today is my day to die, but I shall do so on my own terms – and give you what you wanted. You came here for knowledge, not merely to kill me, no?"

She bit her lip, but kept her voice calm. "And what makes you think I'm just not here to kill you for being an asshole who fucks around with Collectors?"

Okeer's smile widened. "The mere fact you know of my link to the Collectors is telling. And I know you came here for information because you would have orbitally bombarded this facility if you needed no data from it, after all."

She exhaled. "...your terms?"

Okeer's rich voice deepened. "As I said, your prowess intrigues. You have slaughtered your way into the nightmares of an entire sector of the galaxy – and no normal asari could hope to have defeated my servitor. If I am to die, it will not be in the disgraceful fires of artillery strikes or orbital fire. I will die in battle."

Shepard gave him a doubtful look. "You didn't build this crazy ass facility for nothing...you'd give up your plans for a last good fight?"

Okeer laughed. "The chances of you defeating me in battle are low. But I am more prudent than mighty Saren or Lady Benezia were. Save for the ending of my life, my own legacy is already secured. My people will be renewed. I have already made my masterstroke – even if you kill me, what I have discovered will still be saved from what comes."

He rose to his full height. "All that remains is the final coda. Face me in single combat, Butcher. Win, and my followers will surrender. Lose, and I go free."

She snarled, but her mind was racing. She had reservations about dragging Tali and Jack into this fight to begin with. While she certainly didn't plan on facing the big krogan without backup to begin with, seeing Okeer in person only reinforced her doubts at how well Tali - or Jack - would come out of this fight.

The fact that if she didn't do this would get them all killed left her no choice.

She stepped forward, voice hard. "You have a deal, Ganar Okeer. I am blood-sister of Urdnot Wrex, whose son you killed. This is his vengeance, and mine. I will face you in single combat."

Okeer merely grinned wider. "Then he will mourn your death soon enough as well." He tapped his omni-tool, and the red lighting faded, and then his hands wrapped around his hammer, lifting it. "And now, truly, the time for speech and words has passed. There is nothing else to be said, except the language of blade, claw, hammer and spilled blood."

She narrowed her eyes. "Just you and me?"

Okeer nodded, tapping his omni-tool bracelet and tossing it away. "Just you and I, Butcher. Have your small friends stand away."

Tali's voice was pitched low. "This is a _baaad_ idea..."

Shepard's voice was like iron. "You guys stay out here. This won't take long." She stepped forward again, flicking the auto-fire switch on her ODIN.

Jack looked at her incredulously. "She's fucking crazy."

Tali's voice was sad, and so soft Jack could barely make the words out. "No. She's just scared of losing anyone else." Her voice hardened. "When you get a chance, use your biotics to snag that omni-tool..."

As Shepard stepped through the doorway however, the doors slid shut behind her, a omni-field barrier leaping up in front of them. Tali cursed.

Within the flag bridge, Shepard glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to Okeer. "I'm gonna enjoy killing your ass."

Okeer himself stepped forward, swinging that massive hammer in one hand as if it weighed nothing. "You have made me a happy krogan, Butcher."

She exploded into the kanquess, coming out above him and slamming her foot into his hump, making him stumble. "Now, I make you a dead one."

With a roar, Okeer swung the hammer, the head smashing into the decking as Shepard barely had time to dive away. She lifted her ODIN, firing, but the blasts merely ricocheted uselessly off his armor, runnels of green energy erupting over the surface of the armor. Okeer laughed.

"Your feeble weapons … such garbage. You cannot triumph over me with mere toys. Show me your rage, your power All of it!"

He rushed her, and she kanquessed out of the way, but as she emerged, he flung up his hand. A line of silvery-white rope or cord, ending in a disc-shaped mass attractor, lashed onto her thigh armor, and with a tug she was flying through the air back at him.

Before she could do more than attempt to strengthen her barrier, he batted her away with his hammer. A blast of black lightning erupted from it as she flew black, searing into her armor and cybernetics. Wild alerts flashed as she slammed into the far wall hard enough to dent it, screaming in agony as she slid to her knees on the ground.

Okeer merely shook his head. "Pathetic. Can you asari weaklings not fight any better than this?"

Shepard grunted, spitting blood inside her helmet. Shifting power to her strength systems, she engaged her reflex overrides. She'd dropped her ODIN as she'd flown through the air, and instead drew her warp sword, the edges of the blade flaring into deep blue flame.

She let her anger build, and flashed into the kanquess. Rather than coming out in melee range, she emerged behind him, throwing her strongest shockwave. The waves of glowing blue power rocked him, but he only swayed, blue energy writhing over his form being battled by the green radiance from the weird vein-like markings on the armor.

"Biotics...always _biotics_ with asari." He rushed forward, moving surprisingly fast for his size, and swung his hammer in an angled arc. She rolled back, coming up in a cross block that barely caught his return swing, black Reaper metal and blue fire meeting black energies and the gray metal of his hammer with a resounding, hollow clang.

She nearly buckled under the blow, pain exploding across her shoulders and hips from the sheer impact of the blow, but used her biotics and her strength to hold firm, drawing a surprised look from the krogan. Still, her felt servos in her armor give, alarms chiming in her vision about stress impacts.

_Note to self: don't block the hammer again. Fuck, that hurt._

She whipped her sword out and down, making him hop back, then leapt into a flying snap kick, crashing her boot against his unarmored face, sending him stumbling back. She followed up with an elbow to his gut, triggering the omni-blade in her elbow to activate and cut deeply into him.

He howled and jerked back, and she smiled grimly. Not stopping, she swung her blade in a heavy slash at his leg, the blade cutting through the omni-field and armor. Green radiance flashed and crackled over the blade as it dug in deeply, drawing blood, and he crashed his head into her helmet in a savage headbutt, knocking her back. His follow up swing clipped her chin, knocking her head back in an explosion of stars to crumble against a console, stunned.

He shook his head to clear it, noting with dismay his crest was slightly indented, before taking up his hammer in both hands and swinging it down on her with crushing force. The blow whistled through the air, coming to a stop with a hollow clunk as it rebounded off her barrier field, raised hastily.

With a blindingly fast maneuver, Shepard levered herself up, backhanding the krogan with all of her strength and biotic power. The blow tore skin from his muzzle and actually sent him back a good four or five feet, and she followed it up with a straight thrust to the chest with her warp sword. Again, omni-fields and hard armor ground against the blade, and she screamed in fury as she flooded the blade with every bit of biotic energy she could muster.

It slammed through his chest, the blazing blade burning away some of the green traceries on the armor's surface and the tip bursting out of his back, drawing an enraged roar. He reared back and punched her knocking her away, then withdrew the blade and flung it after her.

Shepard landed in a rough roll, barely bring up her omni-blade in time to knock the spinning blade away. It sank into the decking not far from her, as she tried to steady herself from the hard punch, noting her chest armor was buckled.

Okeer wiped blood from his mouth, swinging the hammer in short, testing strokes as he approached. She rolled to the side, grabbing up her warpsword, and as she came up her free hand flung an explosive grenade at his feet.

The blast did little damage but staggered him, and she once again kanquessed, coming out to his right side and slashing at his arm with her blade. As soon as the blow landed she burst into kanquess again, coming out above and to his left, even as he turned to swing his hammer at where she'd been, exposing the broad armored curve of his back. She lashed out with a hard slash even while hammering him with a strong pull, tugging him back even as his armor fought the biotics.

Her blade sunk in deeply, and she let her weight fall onto it in full as she shoved it home, twisting it as she then kicked off his back, barely evading a crushing backhand. She came down in a roll, lifting her blade, but not fast enough as the hammer's long haft let Okeer swing it around far enough to catch her in the side.

Armor crunched and splintered, jagged fragments of it driving into her side, drawing agony from her. More alarms flashed, this time in dire red, signifying serious internal damage. She hopped away, wincing and unable to stand up straight, and Okeer shoulder checked her with a roar, sending her flying to crash hard into a data console.

It shattered under her, metallic pieces and splashing crystal display gel smearing over her as she landed with an awkward sprawl. Once again Okeer lifted the hammer for a downwards strike, and she rolled out of the way, biting back the pain as she triggered her pain editor. The hammer's strike literally crumpled the ground just to one side of her, and she lashed out with a kick at the krogan's exposed knee.

He retaliated with a stomp on her outstretched leg that would have shattered an organic limb. The super-strong bones of Shepard's cybernetic leg were too tough for that, but myomer muscle bundles shredded and snapped, and she hopped to her feet with a limp.

She brought her sword up in a shaky guard, breathing heavily, while Okeer merely grunted and squared his shoulders. Blood flowed heavily from the blackened slots in his armor where she'd stabbed him, the warp fire preventing his regeneration from working at its normal speed. Shepard winced as the Inusannon metals finally snapped together in her side, easing the pressure on her body, although one of her armored rib spars was bent.

Okeer's eyes narrowed as he began another charge, and this time Shepard didn't meet him head on, instead using her biotics to flip out of the way, tossing a pair of smoke grenades over her shoulder. She smirked to herself as the krogan roared in irritation even as her eyes shifted to infrared. Lightening her weight as much as possible, she leapt up, coming down in a fast, strong slash that was aimed at his weapon arm.

The blade carved completely through his shoulder plate, smashing deep into his bicep before coming to a jarring stop against the thick bones of his arm. Shepard used a push against him to propel herself away, emerging trailing streamers of smoke as she landed lightly. Okeer burst out of the cloud a moment later, only for Shepard to spray his face with plasma from her omni-tool, drawing a howl of agony and making him fling his arms up to protect himself.

The moment he did so, she concentrated her biotics on the deck under his feet, using a strong shear. The decking warped and buckled, the massive weight of the krogan making him sink into the splintering metal, immobilizing him. She moved with every bit of her speed, throwing herself into a full extension lunge that shoved the heavy blade ahead of her, targeted for his head.

He managed to somehow hear or feel her movement and flung his arm up in a block, the sword shearing through his forearm in a blast of warpfire. Even as he screamed, though, his other hand came up with the hammer in a short, heavy swing, crashing against her bad shoulder.

Black energy burst free at the blow, and her armor crumpled like paper. The sheer force of it spun her around, and she crashed to the floor a second later, her arm entirely unresponsive. Smoke and flickers of black energies crawled along it, myomer strands writhing and snapping as if on fire for several seconds.

With an irritated grunt, Okeer pulled himself free from the floor, hissing in pain. His right forearm was gushing blood, and he plucked free a heavy packet of medigel, shoving it in the space where his armor had been sheared away before once more picking up his hammer.

Shepard levered herself up shakily with her sword, blood leaking from her mouth. Forcing herself to try to stand straight, she backed up slowly... racking her brains for a tactic to use.

Okeer's bloodied teeth flashed as he smiled. "You fight well, for an asari." He slowly straightened, and she noted with dismay blood no longer trickled from the wound on his chest. "But you were a fool to try me. You came here, expecting to find a crazed madman. And instead you found a god."

She snarled. "God? Please. I've survived way worse than you, asshole." She couldn't use her left arm, meaning she'd have to let go of her sword to throw grenades. Her sniper rifle was useless in such tight quarters, her Harrier didn't have the punch.

She'd have to go with the Sunfire, then. She exhaled again, lifting her blade and putting a taunting note in her voice. "The mightiest and oldest of the krogan can't even put down one mere asari. Quite a legacy, you'll be the laughingstock of every clan on Tuchanka."

Okeer sneered. "You confuse me with the brutish thugs my people have devolved into, Butcher? Thinking you can taunt me into rash action? How amusing." He hefted the hammer. "But you are quite right, this farce ends now."

She kanquessed – up, as high as she could, triggering her mag-boots and thankful for the cybernetic conduits that allowed her to do so with a mere thought. Landing on the curved, high ceiling of the flag bridge, she flung her sword at Okeer, along with a push of all her strength.

Expecting another flanking maneuver, he was unprepared when the weapon sheared into his left shoulder, driving almost to the hilt. With her working arm now free, she pulled the Sunfire, letting it charge up as he tore the weapon free and tossed it aside.

He had time to look up before the first shot struck him in the face. The blast splashed hot plasma and melting flesh into his eyes and he staggered back,and she pulled the trigger again, and again.

Two more hot-white comets slammed into him – one blasting a hole into his chest, the second barely clearing his crest to scythe through the armor over his hump, fragmenting the armor. She fired yet again, the shot blowing through the armor on his right knee, and he fell to his other knee.

The pistol fired a final time even as its heat-sink overloaded, the shot punching yet again through his chest armor, blasting out the other side of his body to melt a sloppy hole in the decking. She leapt down from the ceiling, dropping the pistol as she landed and rolled. Scooping up her warp sword and pushing her biotics into it she lunged, the blade hammering right through his hand to penetrate his head.

He gave a blood choked roar of pain, wrenching the blade free as he staggered to his feet, swinging his hammer blindly and wildly. The huge weapon connected with a console, smashing it to pieces and raining debris over Shepard as scrambled back.

Despite his agony, Okeer heard the scrape of her boots on the decking and flung the hammer with all his might. Black energies burst out of it as it struck her directly in the chest, armor crumpling and sending Shepard skidding back against the deck until she struck the far wall.

She winced, barely able to draw breath. Flashing graphics across her vision warned of damage to her lungs and heart, and her power star was at fifteen percent energy and falling. She watched as Okeer slowly sank to the ground, slumping against the other wall a moment later, blood pouring from his mouth and other garish, plasma-splashed wounds.

She coughed up blood again, toggling her helmet to try to get more air. Grimacing against pain – and realizing her pain editor had either failed or overloaded – she managed to half stagger towards the half wrecked control panels.

Her omni-tool laid an overlay for the many controls before her, but it took her almost fifteen seconds to find a control to open the doors. She pressed it, sinking to her knees in exhaustion, even as Tali rushed through the opening doors, shotgun ready and eyes wide.

Jack followed at a more sedate pace, glancing around the room and taking in the shattered, beaten giant krogan against one wall. "Daaaamn."

Tali skidded to a stop next to Shepard, omni-tool flaring as she ran some kind of diagnostics. "Keelah! You crazy...stupid..." She turned Shepard's head to face her. "Sara? Answer me, how badly hurt are you?"

She smiled as she coughed, using her only working arm to wipe blood from her lips. "Mostly dead. But that fucker is all dead." She spat blood. "Vigil?"

The voice of the AI sounded more smug than it had earlier. "Yes, primitive? Your life signs appear to be in some level of disorder. Bite off more than you could chew?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "S-status."

The AI sighed. "The krogan have inflicted very heavy casualties on the Firestorm, who are falling back. The Blue Suns force was routed. More krogan are massing to the west side of the complex, although so far they have not taken any hostile actions and fight purely defensively. Miranda and her combat team are on the lower levels of the tower, waiting for instructions."

She nodded. "Good. Pop a copy into a war robot and get it up here." She changed comm links. "Zaeed?"

The voice of the mercenary sounded angry. "I'm guddamned _busy_."

She sighed. "Pull your people out. I'm going to try to use my ship to take the heat off you."

The man's voice did not sound any happier. "We're fucking pinned, so that's going to be a mite difficult to do."

She was about to speak when Jack frowned, turning. A force of krogan had entered the room with the elevator lifts, a good fifteen or so of them, all in black armor, lead by a slightly larger krogan with white trim on his black armor., and the same dark brown crest and pale skin as Okeer.

Tali tightened her grip on her shotgun, bringing up her omni-shield, and Jack's hands glittered with biotics, but the krogan merely held up his hand. "Wait. The War-father has fallen?"

Shepard was blocked from their view by the form of Tali. She tiredly triggered her helmet, sealing away her features, before leaning heavily on Tali and standing. "If you mean Okeer...yes. I killed him in single combat."

The krogan in the room all seemed to slump, and the leader gave an almost pained cry before mastering himself. "Then … his last orders were to cease combat. We have … females and materials in the western compound, and important items we must not allow to be destroyed."

Shepard blinked, but then thought for a minute. Her people were likely surrounded, Zaeed's mercs were pinned, the Normandy had taken at least some damage, and the Suns were probably routed. She tilted her head. "You must leave the tower immediately and have your people fall back towards this western compound."

One of the krogan snarled. "The Project – "

The lead krogan held up a hand again. "I know, Turkus. The War-father instructed me to follow this path." The pale green eyes flicked back to the Butcher. "We will fall back...and if your people attack us, death will not stop us from our vengeance. It is only on the orders of our War-father we allow you this – and we are taking his body with us."

Shepard glanced at the battered corpse. While she would have loved to have an examination of the armor – particularly the green shit – she understood enough about krogan to realize that was expected. "His weapon is spoils of war."

The krogan did not seem concerned about that, four of them stepping into the room. They cried out again when they beheld Okeer's body, moving to his side and lifting him up. Bearing him from the room, they pushed past their fellows.

The lead krogan folded his massive arms. "The War-father left his last project in the pinnace bay. I am .. instructed to surrender it to you. His mightiest soldier."

She frowned at that, even as the elevator lifts opened again, disgorging Miranda, her DACT, and five war robots. They all trained weapons on the krogan before Shepard called out.

"Cease fire. The krogan are going to fall back to the west. Let them go."

Miranda gave her a raised eyebrow, but said nothing. The lead krogan turned back to face Shepard. "I will need to access the communications plinth to order a fall back."

She gestured. "Tali, cover him. He does something shifty..."

The quarian nodded, while Shepard limped over to a corner of the room, picking up Okeer's omni-tool he'd tossed aside.

The krogan, meanwhile, touched the comm panel. "Brothers...this is Kassuk. The War-father has fallen. Cease combat, fall back to the western compound. Kill anything that attempts entry."

Shepard tucked Okeer's omni-tool away before tapping her own. "All forces, this is the Butcher. I've come to an agreement with the krogan. They will be falling back to the west. Do not engage or you are on your own. Butcher out."

She let her arm fall, and stared. "...if that is all, get the hell out of this tower."

Kassuk gave her a very faint nod. "Very well...Butcher." The krogan backed out of the room, followed by his fellows, who kept their hands on the handles of their weapons even as they tapped the elevator controls, giving Miranda's group a wide berth.

For her part the Cerberus officer ignored them, moving quickly to Shepard's side. "Dammit, your systems are _failing_. Kill power to your augments before you literally shut down."

Shepard did so, and her legs gave out on her. Tali and Miranda both struggled to support her weight before Shepard managed to steady herself. "...sorry. Took a bit of a beating."

Jack was trying to lift Okeer's huge hammer, but even with biotics she was straining. "Fucking hell. You got HIT by this thing?"

Shepard nodded, and Miranda scowled, tapping her commlink. "Joker, the krogan are falling back, and Shepard is badly hurt. I have two moderate and five serious injuries among the marines. Bring the ship into static observable and wait for instructions."

Shepard glanced at the war robots, tossing one of them the omni. "His omni-tool. The rest of the computer systems are here, I think."

One of the RAMPART mechs stepped up to the console, hands moving rapidly over the controls, while the one the omni-tool had been tossed to was accessing it. After several seconds, Vigil cursed. "I'll need more time to decipher, but it looks like Okeer struck deals with the Broker and Collectors to do some kind of genetic mods to the krogan – in particular, female krogan he's altered to be less affected but not immune to the Genophage."

Shepard grimaced. "A cure?"

Vigil's voice was musing. "Manifestly not. Rather an adjustment of how it kills – certain DNA keys are flagged to prevent the Genophage from triggering at all, by altering the base chemistry of certain phage attachment sites. The krogan doctor was trying to... force evolve the krogan by changing what offspring would be killed in utero by it."

The sphere pulsed. "He was also working on some kind of 'pure' krogan – one based on the science the Collectors gave him. There isn't much detail – something about somaprojection and implanted memories and failures. This 'super krogan' was supposed to be the first of a class of males to impregnate his souped up females but kept running into issues."

Shepard sighed. "Fine. Take three robots, load up this krogan thing, and stick it in their pinnace. Two more should take this place apart and upload anything else – and bring along the hammer when you're done."

She tapped her omni. "Did the attacks stop?"

Zaeed's voice was a mix of frustrated and grateful. "...eventually. Stupid, _undisciplined_ bastards. They're moving off to the west...follow?"

Shepard shook her head. "No. Fall back to your reserve positions and stand by for us to come pick you up. Pass that along to Jedore too." She clicked off.

Miranda frowned. "We are getting you back to the Normandy and into the med center. You've taken internal damage and you have systems failures all over." Concern colored her voice, as she glanced in curiosity at the mostly unwounded Jack and Tali.

Shepard winced but nodded. "Tali, you guys see if you can't find anything the war robots miss, then ...I'll have the shuttles pick everyone up at the tower's base. From there, we'll get the hell out and clear the system."

Vigil chimed softly. "The sooner the better. I believe the authorities are about to start a planet wide recon search to determine if any real emergencies are happening."

Tali nodded, moving along in the direction of the doors, and Shepard sighed in relief as Miranda did something with her omni-tool and the pain stopped. "Your pain editor malfunctioned...I told Wilson that thing was erratic."

Using her biotics, Lawson helped lever Shepard to a standing position. Her voice was hard. "Jack. I need you to make sure we're not attacked as I help Shepard."

Jack sneered, but glanced at Shepard's beaten form and then gave a curt nod. "...sure thing, cheerleader."

Miranda's lips tightened but she said nothing, instead turning to Shepard. "We have had no deaths, although as I mentioned several marines were hurt somewhat badly. Sedanya is fully prepped."

Shepard nodded. "...let's get the hell out of here, then. I feel like I used to after most of my Spectre drops."

**O-TWCD-O**

All told, Vigil and Miranda managed to police up the area in less than twenty minutes. The pinnace was offloaded – along with a heavy life-support tank containing a simply gigantic krogan, there were several large datastore computers, pallets of strange machinery seemingly blended with organic components, and – most troublingly to Vigil – a case of heavy green crystals he identified as Prothean power crystals, used in the creation of particle beam weapons that were the favorite weapons of the Prothean Empire.

The crystals were new, not relics. Shepard wasn't sure what to think of that.

Vigil was crunching data from both the omni-tool, downloads from the tower, and the computers from the pinnace. Shepard had Chief Haln and Dost load the pinnace with fusion explosives, and crashed it directly into the tower as they left orbit.

The rather battered light cruiser that housed the Firestorm limped into the solar plane not long after. Shepard, laid out in the special medical area in front of the medbay, was in no condition to talk to Massani, so instead instructed Miranda to have them meet up in a system two jumps away from their home base.

She would deal with Zaeed when she felt less like hammered crap. She was tucked away into a repair device of some kind, Sedanya and Miranda working in unison on her systems and myomer musculature.

Sedanya trimmed out a section of burned, melted myomer and began laying fresh strands across her leg. "Defeating a krogan warlord in single combat sounds like the stories my mother used to tell me of war priestesses of the Thirty, blessings trail their names. Very impressive."

Miranda, immersed in fixing Shepard's completely ruined shoulder, scowled. "More like impressively stupid. This is why I don't like letting you go off by yourself, Shepard. One wrong move and that krogan could have flattened your skull. You are not invincible."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "I figured you were familiar with how this goes. Shepard finds bad guy. Shepard listens to stupid rant. Shepard whoops bad guy's ass but is beaten down. Shepard sits in hospital."

Miranda's sigh was a mixture of exasperation and frustration. "And we specifically explained to you that fighting like that could have serious consequences! A slightly more direct hit to your chest and you would have had a broken armor plate jabbed directly into your heart."

Shepard looked at her. "Okeer was not someone Jack or Tali is ready to fight. OR you, for that matter. Maybe if Jacob was here, I'd have taken him - he'd have been perfect. But he's on goddamned Bekenstein, which no one told me about until it was already going down. If I had a strong leader for my marines I might have taken you, but I don't."

Miranda shook her head. "Then why not take war robots? Or some of your marines? Surely your DACT are capable enough to fight such foes. You claim you don't like losing your people, but another few inches and whatever blasted Jack's arm down to third degree burns would have killed her. Why go solo against a warlord of Okeer's power when you could have simply waited for additional backup?"

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "Weapons weren't doing dick-all to Okeer or his fucking zombie-krogan thing. Bringing along people trained to fight in a battle line makes them a liability against shit like that." She sighed. "Maybe if I'd dragged Zaeed with me I'd have risked it, but even he would have been almost helpless in that mess. I had to shoot him five times with a Sunfire and stab him directly in the brain with a warp sword to kill him – and this was after shooting, stabbing, and blowing his ass up more than once. I took him solo because I can be repaired."

Shepard's voice hardened. "And maybe I am off in dragging Tali and Jack along...but what choices do I have? Do I have anyone else tech-heavy who can hack like Tali? A biotic like Jack? Every war robot I took with me was one less to make sure my marines didn't die. I work with the tools I've got. Waiting for backup … ha." She sighed. "Sorry, I'm still not quite used to the idea of actually getting backup. Even if I did, waiting might have let Okeer escape."

She leaned her head back. "I made the call as I saw it. Okeer's _dead_, none of my people are, and I now have a giant krogan popsicle and a new hammer. Don't see the problem."

Miranda shook her head, exasperation coloring her tone. "Shepard, I am more concerned about your unwillingness to consider the dangers to yourself than to your crew and marines. You continue not to value your own life, just as you did in your Alliance career. But it is valuable."

Shepard snorted. "What, as a tool for TIM?"

Surprisingly, Miranda nodded. "Yes, there is that. But even setting that aside, no one else can affect both the struggle against the Reapers and the situation with the Alliance as much as you can. If you die, we have no one powerful enough to kill the Broker, or Tetrimus. We have no one who can call him out on his lies. No one will trust Cerberus as we are – even when we are doing no wrong and trying to stop the Reapers."

Sedanya made a clucking noise as she finished up her own work on Shepard's leg. "Seawater does not cease to be salty merely because you put it in a cup. That being said …" She pulled a loose flap of Shepard's artificial skin over the wounded section of her leg, and then began wrapping it in medigel infused bandages. "...you must realize, Shepard, there are people who would be badly hurt by your death."

Shepard flinched at that, and laid her head back on the pillow. "I'm still getting used to the idea I _died_ the first time. It's only been a couple of months for me."

Miranda sighed, then looked up as Vigil appeared. "Sorry to interrupt, primitives. But the first comms bursts from Korlus are hitting the extranet – lots of coverage over what is left of the Takara docks. Jedore appears to have gone public with our involvement – clearly stating that it was the Butcher who assaulted the works of Doctor Okeer with the stated intention of killing him."

Shepard sighed. "Great. Have Joker switch to full stealth and here's hoping Zaeed doesn't try any kind of double cross. Send him a message, we'll meet him in the planned system in … six hours."

The sphere vanished, and Shepard glanced back at Miranda. "How much longer until you finish this oil change?"

Miranda just rolled her eyes and went back to work.


	21. Arc II: Legacies of Betrayal and Revenge

_**A/N**:_

_Mostly feels. And ... stuff.  
_

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications._

* * *

_'My dear Broker. I am not some pathetic, formulaic villain from a turian melodrama. I set my plan in motion long before you were even born.'_

_Doctor Ganar Okeer, in discussion with the Shadow Broker  
_

* * *

_DOWNLOADING: Data feed, prime broadcast segment 344_

_Manifest dump 42245-core alpha, unclassified_

_This is an official Systems Alliance data capture dump, replication or rebroadcast is restricted._

_Transcript begins, identifiers J: al-Jiliani I: Te'Shora M : Jaroth Manno_

_Keywords: Krogan, Butcher, Okeer, Lythari, Eclipse, CDEM_

BEGIN:

"Westerlund news! All the news, fit or unfit to print, 24/7!"

J: Good afternoon. I'm **Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani,** Westerlund News Network.

J: Tonight, we have a range of topics to cover – the first is perhaps somewhat unusual to our watchers across the extranet and in their homes, but still of interest to the wider galactic community. Some fifteen hours ago, communications were finally restored on the recycling center of the galaxy, Korlus.

J: (graphic pops up) A planet with a poor reputation for violence, Korlus was recently instrumental in offering reasonable bids for geth salvage, providing the Systems Alliance a forward fueling station on the edges of the Traverse and allowing our brave servicemen and servicewomen to take the fight to the filthy geth.

J: Korlus was attacked today in a wide-scale DDOSA attack, knocking interstellar comms and even secured FTL buoys, as well as most planet-wide comm systems, off for almost three hours. In the aftermath, it was discovered that the mysterious figure known as the Butcher had assaulted a ship-breaking facility owned by the infamous krogan doctor known as Warlord Okeer.

J: Okeer is famous for being one of the original creators of the Genophage, as well as a savage attack on the salarians researching it that forced the hands of the turians in deploying it. As a result, the krogan people blame him for their current situation.

J: (turns to her guests) Speaking on this issue tonight is one of our most frequent and respected guests, Lady Irissa Te'Shora, asari councilor and full adjunct to the asari councilor. Also with us tonight is a representative from the Eclipse Private Defense Group, one Sur'Kesh Maando Mani Than-sil Suil Jaroth Manno, who knew Doctor Okeer and is an expert on the krogan as he is currently helping to oversee the CDEM over Tuchanka.

M: (eyes widen as he nods his head) Impressive, Ms. Al-Jiliani. Your pronunciation is … _very_ good.

J: (inclines head) Thank you. Let me start with you, Mr. Manno. You have done a large amount of business with this Doctor Okeer over the years. But most humans have never heard of him. Why is the death of Doctor Okeer sending such shockwaves through Citadel space?

M: (adjusts position) Ms. Al-Jiliani, Doctor Okeer has been a fixture of the Citadel and its peoples for well over two thousand years, and was alive long before that. While the krogan are thought of as brutish, he was writing papers on biochemistry, history, and military tactics. It was Okeer himself who was one of the main reasons that my people felt the krogan were ready for uplift in the first place.

M: (taps chin) Okeer was one of the strongest warriors in history. I've seen him fight off … dozens of attackers at once. For him to fall in battle was shocking – news that he was defeated in single combat ..,. is hard to believe.

I: (nods) I must concur. While Doctor Okeer was certainly a figure of contention among many – not least the krogan – his death in such strange circumstances raises many questions. I cannot think of anyone who could do such a task.

J: I see. The Council seems quite alarmed by this development.

I: Without going into specific intelligence details, there is evidence that the Butcher is associated with very extreme elements of criminal aspect. Her destruction of the pirates in the Traverse was seen as a good thing, although it certainly did not help the people of Freedom's Progress. But attacking Okeer makes many wonder about her agenda, and who exactly she is.

J: I remain puzzled at the alarm this has caused, though. Even if Okeer was powerful, aren't the krogan themselves a spent force, under the watchful eye of the CDEM?

M: Perhaps I can clarify. Eclipse has long heard rumors that Okeer was involved in some sort of research on the Genophage. Certainly, he has had several ugly incidents with Spectres, and gossip placed him as someone who had done business with Saren – possibly even after the fall of the Spectre. There is no doubt some concern that whatever Okeer knew is now in the hands of the Butcher, who could use such knowledge for any purpose. Krogan serving under Okeer claimed she was looking for information, and investigators found the tower he was working in destroyed and many materials and computers missing from the complex.

M: Additionally, there is the simple fact that Okeer, despite krogan hatred of them, was easily seen by all krogan as the Eldest and the strongest of their race. The Krogan Emperor himself died in single combat with Okeer, and eyewitnesses on the Citadel say that the current leader of the Krogan, one Urdnot Wrex, a mercenary of great age and skill, also failed to defeat him.

M: Yet by reports from Korlus, not only was the Butcher capable of killing him in single combat, but did so and was able to walk away under her own power, showing little traces of any injuries.

I: There is a concern that the Butcher may use her fame in killing Okeer – and stealing whatever research or notes he had – to attempt to rally an army of krogan for nefarious purposes. Krogan respect strength more than anything else, and to have their Eldest beaten by a nameless asari…

J: (Leans back) Irissa. There has been a huge amount of speculation recently about the Butcher, and her videos and acts against pirates. The Citadel Council has not issued a formal statement – but shouldn't we be cheering her instead of acting suspicious? She's killed slavers and this Okeer person does not sound exactly friendly.

I: (gesture of siari separation) There is the nature of the Butcher and her acts, and then there are her motives and goals. The Council strives for peace and unity – especially with the geth finally on the ropes in our long war against them. We have paid a price in blood – six Spectres, including Spectre Shepard and Spectre Ross, as well as Spectre Vathik – and in many other brave soldiers of all races. The last thing we need is vigilantes with mysterious power and unknown backers stirring up trouble.

J: You'll pardon me if some of my viewers are more inclined to think otherwise. The fall of the Umlor Pirates was cheered by many.

M: The crux of the issue is simple: This Butcher thinks she can do whatever she likes. Taking down the Umlor involved killing literally everyone involved – slavers or not. While I won't defend slavers, I have a hard time agreeing that she has the right to simply murder my friend Okeer.

M: Some may have had … issues with him. I also understand that many people have issues with some of the more extreme acts of the Ashlands, or with the attitudes of the Governor of Mindoir. Would you be so blasé if this asari decides she can just arrive on their worlds and execute them?

J: (arches an eyebrow) The Butcher has not taken any _hostile_ action against Council Worlds.

M: (raises chin) **_Yet_**. And that is the thing that has many people bothered. We do not know her agenda and she does not respond to any forms of communication.

M: Eclipse must maintain public transparency due to our CDEM and other security contracts. All large PMCs must do the same. Our sponsors and stockholders must be available for review and we are not above being forced to comply with Citadel regulations. This lunatic, on the other hand, kinetically bombarded a garden world! Can you _imagine_ the outrage – and fines – that would accrue if Eclipse or the Blue Suns was to attempt such a tactic?

I: Not only that. Even setting aside the death of Doctor Okeer, the Butcher was able to block comms and hack the security grid of an entire world! That kind of power is hardly something we can afford to leave in the hands of someone who acts as she will without obeying Citadel Law.

**O-TWCD-O**

With a sigh of disgust, the haptic screen was cut off.

"I can only presume you have some form of hypothesis for this unexpected setback, Tetrimus?" The Broker's voice was calm, but had an underlying rumble of anger in it that Tetrimus knew was bad.

Standing in front of the huge desk, flanked by dozens of data-feeds and displays, Tetrimus merely gave a flick of the mandible. "So far, we are drawing complete blanks on hard data. That makes forming said hypothesis difficult. The Butcher's capabilities continue to be … anomalous."

He lifted his hand. "We know she's asari. While we had good confirmation from earlier shows of her using singularities and blades, it was conceivable this was some kind of experimental human project. But the most recent images show otherwise. Footage from the assault, while very spotty, revealed at least one snippet of her killing krogan with a warp sword. While some Glorious batarians and the occasional salarian transcendental can use singularities, no one but asari can use warp swords."

He tapped his omni, displaying several reports. "Yet none of our agents on Thessia show any signs of recognizing this one or her fighting style. If anything, her blade-work is more along the sort of thing a member of the Clans would use, not the elegance of one of the Thirty. Her ships operate in some kind of stealth mode, similar to that of the human's stealth frigates, but the bulk of her weaponry is turian."

He ticked off a second talon. "We know she strikes from surprise and, if Jedore's reports can be trusted, was somewhat … profane for an asari. Given her viciousness and how she fights, despite the lack of polish, she may be one of the Wrathful Blades that Matriarch Aethyta trained. By all reports, the warp sword she fought with did have a blade of black metal..."

The Broker's eight eyes flickered over the status panels. "Over the past year, our operations on Ilium and Omega have been destroyed. I have lost irreplaceable specialists and a great deal of both money and ability to gather intelligence to the Sisters and Archangel. Then the Butcher arrives and disrupts not only the cover for the Collector project, but the slave labor sources and shipping we were using to build the Exodus Project."

He gestured to the still dark haptic screen. "And now she has cut down Okeer. We must assume that our security has been compromised. These are not _random_ acts."

Tetrimus leaned on his cane, thinking. "The loss of Okeer removes our ability to field the krogan as a distracting element during our withdrawal, but little else. He kept whatever he was doing for the Collectors under his fringe the whole time. So I remain … less than crushed over his loss."

The Broker growled. "He had information on our operations, at least the few that related to him." He paused as one of his data feeds illuminated. "Speak."

The voice on the line was turian, flanged and female. "Sir. C-SEC has apprehended the krogan traveling with Okeer's body towards Tuchanka. They've agreed to negotiate with the CDEM to allow him to be buried there, but had to submit to an autopsy. I have the report."

The Broker's rumbling growl was more pleased sounding. "Good. What did you find?"

"Cause of death was not simply a warp-sword – there were several high-impact plasma blasts as well, as if from either an overcharged Spear of Athame rifle or more likely a M-903 Sunfire pistol. We managed to clean the Collector tech out of his armor, but there was no sign of his omni-tool at all. The more important thing is that the stab wounds he took were in some cases deep enough to completely penetrate the body."

Tetrimus frowned. "Why is that significant?"

The turian's voice was tinged with worry, sending her harmonics into lower ranges. "I cannot imagine the asari with enough physical strength to shove a blade completely through heavy armor and two feet of krogan when its warp energies are disrupted by the Collector anti-biotic matrix on his armor – that means most of the cutting power was from sheer strength of thrusts."

The Broker's maw fluttered. "Either very high level biotic body reinforcement, or cybernetics. Anything else of note?"

"Interviews with the krogan accompanying him said that the Butcher's shoulder was heavily damaged, but still usable despite being clearly mangled. They could smell blood, but they saw none of it from the wound on the shoulder." He paused. "They also said the blood smelled 'off' but not how or why."

He nodded. "Cybernetics, then. Curious choice for an asari. Very well. Keep me informed. Out."

He clicked off, glancing at Tetrimus. "Heavy cybernetics implies an older asari with slower regeneration - one more reason why I dislike the theory that Liara T'Soni somehow managed to survive and is the Butcher. We still grasp meaninglessly in the dark."

Tetrimus only shrugged. "I've got people on it. If the krogan smelled blood, however, then the cybernetics in question may only be limited to arms. A full-conversion asari cyborg is … _ridiculous_."

The Broker grunted. "You forget the late Ghost-Step. No matter. Have the teams on-site at Korlus discovered anything else of interest or use?"

Tetrimus sighed. "Conflicting reports. Much of Okeer's networks were manual – he distrusted linked comms – so we were able to recover some bits of footage. The main assault force was a small group of what appeared to be human males and females, along with two DACT. There are some images of what look like two quarians as well. They utilized conventional Alliance marine tactics, but were equipped with top of the line weapons and armor. A large group of highly advanced and armored modifications of the RAMPART mech accompanied them."

Tetrimus tapped his omni. "These mechs appear to have some sort of … regenerative metal function. Several were blasted to the ground, only to get up and continue fighting with minimal loss of ability. When the Butcher pulled out, all wreckage was recovered, so we have no samples."

The Broker's voice took on a sarcastic tone. "Wonderful. Yet _another_ unknown variable. We now have an invisible magical turian that can kill at will, a pair of asari who can outwit my entire network and slaughter my best agents with impunity, and a mysterious asari who has stealth, hacking and robotics technology beyond anything else in the galaxy."

His many eyes narrowed. "And we have _zero_ clue why they are hostile towards the Network. I find this an unacceptable lapse in our own protocols."

Tetrimus spread his hands. "With the bulk of our focus and manpower in the Expanse we are going to be left more vulnerable to events of this nature. I think what we have to ask is how do we proceed from here?"

The Broker leaned back. "We must draw one of them out of hiding. Given our lack of success on Ilium, and the lack of ability to localize the Butcher, that leaves Archangel. How many teams have managed to infiltrate Omega?"

Tetrimus tapped his cane. "Only two. The rest were destroyed by Archangel...or sold out to Aria, probably by Archangel. Both teams are operating in the black markets and posing as weapons dealers. Communications taps are working, although we aren't getting much of use. Aria is preparing to expand her fleets, and is colonizing six more worlds."

The Broker nodded, and turned his bulk to one side, glancing over several status displays. "From the patterns I see, Archangel is attempting to destroy my teams not to protect Aria, but to gather intelligence. It is possible he is attempting to localize our command location."

Tetrimus gave a sigh. "If I had a credit for every time some two-bit vigilante attempted to kill us..."

The Broker, surprisingly, laughed, a nightmare sound. "In this case, the concept may be put to good use. Even with the resistance from Aria and Archangel, the Omega Project can succeed if we can turn one against the other openly. Either Archangel destroys Aria, casting the entire Terminus into war and chaos, or she crushes him and leaves herself more vulnerable to our infiltration."

"Shift the focus of our teams on Omega towards localizing Archangel. And send in independent operators as well, place them with merc companies, free traders – however you can. Use only coded comms. Once localized, attempt to identify a weak point. Archangel cannot be operating alone. Once you localize him, mobilize the gangs to crush him – and make it very noticeable."

Tetrimus nodded. "And what of the Sisters? Tazzik is impatient for us to implement his plan."

The Broker waved a massive hand. "They have already ruined the Ilium operation completely. Tazzik's plan is workable. Once you finish setting up events on Omega, you may proceed with it. Have Tazzik travel to Omega and if the Butcher shows up, Tazzik will kill her while you deal with the Sisters."

Tetrimus flicked a mandible. "Are you sure _Tazzik_ can take the Butcher?"

The Broker chuckled darkly. "As long as the fool stays away from ledges. Tazzik's skills as the plan progresses become of less and less utility. You are much stronger, but Tazzik can take more damage - and more importantly, we have remote viewing capability. If he wins, the problem is handled...and if he loses, we have a far more complete understanding of the Butcher's tactics and capabilities."

The yahg tapped a few controls on the massive desk. "And should the unthinkable happen - capture - I can solve that problem remotely."

Tetrimus shook his head. "I still think allowing me to go after this Butcher would be the more logical move. Her biotic power is something Tazzik can't correct for."

The Broker's basso laughter made the floor shake. "He will be adding some … upgrades very soon. Regardless, I have determined the course of action. I cannot risk you at this juncture."

Tetrimus sighed. "What do I do with the Sisters once I crush them?"

The Broker made a fist. "A minor detail. Capture them if at all possible - otherwise, execute them and trace their sponsor. You will not be going alone, and you must get a better understanding of conditions on Ilium before heading there. What resources do we have available on Ilium currently?"

Tetrimus checked his omni. "The only ones worth noting are several information brokers – Fithana Mjan, Kesa Mithus, Nassana Dantius – whose survival continues to amaze – and the Vantirus Sisters, who are no doubt STG plants." He paused. "There's also the Reclaimed, but they are still our most likely candidates for who the Sisters are, despite the fact we can't link them to anything."

The Broker nodded. "Reach out to all of them and inquire as to the possibility of patterns in the acts of the Sisters of Vengeance. Go ahead and arrange one of Tazzik's 'accidents' at the compound of the Reclaimed Sisterhood and see what the result is."

Tetrimus tapped orders into his omni. "Very well. And Exodus?"

The Broker leaned back. "Proceeds on schedule. The Collectors appear to be in no hurry, and while there are vast numbers of the Reapers on the move, they are headed towards the Sculptor Galaxy. My most recent projections show us capable of evacuation in time … barely."

Tetrimus shivered at the idea of beings powerful enough to reach that distance in any reasonable time frame. "If they suddenly changed their minds, how quickly could they be here?"

The Broker glanced back at him. "Six to seven months. At least for a vanguard. Given how spread out they appear to be from the limits of the sensor array, it would take almost ten years for them all to gather. Which would be complete overkill."

Tetrimus nodded. "Okeer's cloning equipment and females should be arriving soon – but not the promised males to go with them. What should we do?"

The Broker leaned back. "Use the females as bargaining chips with the Blood Pack. The cloning equipment is of Collector manufacture - see if we cannot adapt it for our own use. If not, dangle the concept to Jona Sederis in return for more access to Tuchanka."

Tetrimus nodded and left shortly thereafter, leaving the Broker to scan his data screens. He tapped one, musingly. "Agent Obscura. Report."

The elegant accent of a human female answered after a few seconds. "I am still gathering intelligence. So far, though, I can confirm Hock is dead and the data he mentioned missing. There is too much Commissar activity for me to enter the grounds directly, but I've been monitoring comms. Whoever did this was a powerful biotic, and security footage shows that the perpetrator was definitely Trellani."

The Broker sat back. "Anything else?"

"The mercs that survived said they were heavily engaged by mechs of some kind that had innate self-repair properties. No wreckage was recovered, however."

The Brokers' eyes narrowed. "Try to find any of his associates who might have known what the data may have involved. And keep me informed." He leaned back even further, mind racing. The presence of the same strange robotics technology under the command of Trellani cemented the Council's statement that the Butcher was linked to Cerberus.

Harper was exceedingly clever. By using a completely non-human force, the number of people who would believe Cerberus was behind the Sisters, Archangel and the Butcher would be very low – but how else could all three be operating with no backing or resources? Aria was too stupid for such clever antics, P. would have been gloating by now, and the other usual suspects were all panicking.

But what was Harper's end game? Aside from the destruction of the Broker Network, of course.

**O-TWCD-O**

Repairing Shepard only took about an hour all told, which was in Shepard's mind a big improvement from hours spent on bone regenerators and days in a hospital bed. There was still some damage they couldn't fix on the Normandy, of course, but nothing serious enough for her to be worrying about – at least in her opinion.

Sedanya was concerned about some minor damage to her lungs, and warned Shepard that healing such things would take much longer than before. Shepard nodded, dimly aware of faint pains in her chest that came and went. While she wasn't dismissive of the internal damage, anything was better than laying about for a week.

Given that they'd acted openly enough to attract attention from almost everyone, Joker and Vigil were currently playing 'fuck up the FTL trail' and hopping between systems, dropping charge on desolate gas giants where they could and muddling any FTL wake trail the Normandy might have made. Doing so would require at least three or four hours before burning to the relay to meet up with Massani.

She couldn't just go over whatever Okeer was up to, sadly. The take from Okeer's lab was still being analyzed, with Vigil transmitting the bulk of it to their home base for Trudy's people to start working on. While Vigil was capable of processing vast amounts of information, it was not, by its own statement, really skilled at analysis. Context was always a problem. Additionally, it was occupied trying to follow data-links based on the findings, as well as use some of the information to pin down Broker operations.

Rather than bother the sphere, she decided to walk around. Being able to do so with no pain after such a beating was definitely a new experience. She checked in with her marines, who were all recovering nicely and pumped about their new gear – especially the DACT.

After joking about with them for a bit, she headed towards engineering and the pit where Jack's living space was. She was pleased with what she saw. The mechs had installed a comfortable bunk, several lockers, a haptic screen with data-link access, and added a few vents for air circulation, as well as a chair in front of the screen. While they were turned off, Shepard also saw they'd installed lights.

Jack herself was laying on her back, stripped down to black pants and gauze. She glanced up as Shepard clunked down the stairs, then let her head fall back. "The fuck you want?"

Shepard sat down in the only chair, looking at Jack. "Just to talk."

Jack closed her eyes. "So go _talk_ to your fucking cheerleader, or the bucket-heads."

Shepard leaned back in the chair, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "She's not my cheerleader. And it's my goddamned ship. Talk to who I please."

Jack opened one eye, then sighed. "Bitch, if you're gonna smoke in my space, at least fucking share."

Shepard tossed her the cigarettes and lighter. "Ungrateful brat. Are you even old enough to smoke?"

Jack took one out. "Whatever, grandma." She lit it, with perhaps the slightest smile on her face, then exhaled smoke. "You are even fucking crazier than I am, by the way. That was the biggest krogan I ever saw and you beat him with a fuck-ass sword." She turned her head to look at Shepard. "Logic, common sense, laws of physics – you don't even give a fuck, do you?"

Shepard shrugged. "The first Glorious batarian I killed, I did it in a fistfight. Punched out a Geth Prime on my first run on the Normandy – charged right through a point blank plasma blast to do that."

Jack smirked. "Alright, that was kinda badass." The smile flickered. "Still..don't you ever get fucking scared?"

Shepard blew out smoke of her own. "Fear...isn't something I really felt. Not for my own life. For a long time – a long, stupid time – it was because I told myself I had nothing to lose. Later on, I was actually chasing death – seeing it as a way to end the pain."

Jack shook her head. "What bullshit. Everyone gets scared. I've been so fucking messed up from fear I lost my shit completely." Her expression hardened, her gaze darkening.

Shepard shrugged, rotating the cigarette in her fingers before puffing on it again. "I'm not saying I was never _scared_ – just not of dying. I was scared of losing the things important to me, of failing, of … being worthless. But at the same time, I honestly thought I couldn't be killed. At one point, I thought I was the baddest thing ever, and the first hard reality check I had to that idea was when I had Saren cold and he still fucked me up."

She tilted her head. "What I … changed into later was mostly due to other people getting me to wake up and realize I wasn't fucking immortal. Even then I never let fear master who I was, or how I acted. The Alliance shrinks said I was, for lack of a better word, dysfunctional. Chambers would probably have some fancy-ass name for it. But it's one of the first lessons the Old Lady taught me."

She glanced over at Jack. "Fear makes you panic. Panic makes you sloppy. Sloppy makes you dead."

Jack grunted, closing her eyes and puffing on the cigarette, before dumping the ashes on the floor. "Yeah, well. _Lots_ of shit makes you sloppy." She bit her lip. "I ain't scared of dying, but I ain't chasing it either. But I get what you're saying. I guess I'm more scared of...things that go worse that that. People. Being … used up."

A pause, and then she exhaled. "Shit. You ever get double-crossed?"

Shepard's voice was bitter. "Oh, fuck yes. CO sold me up the river. First person I thought I was in love with tried to get me killed. One of my best friends gave his best shot at killing me, and the rest abandoned me. Woman I looked up to as my mom was actually a goddamned Cerberus terrorist bitch."

She closed her eyes. "Even the SA is fucked up. Hell, they tell you straight up – they're happy about being fucked up and gladly sell out marines and people's lives to get things done. About the only people who haven't ever stabbed me in the fucking back are my crew and Anderson. And Udina, as funny as that fucking is to say."

Jack was silent for long seconds. "...how...fuck." She exhaled. "That's what I don't get. How do you get _past_ that? People don't fucking care. They use you. And the more you trust them the worse you get hurt in the end."

Shepard nodded. "It's about picking the right ones to call friends. I … the streets aren't a place to make friends. You yourself understand that, Jack. If you use that as your template for working with other people, you just get into a cycle where you end up depending on people who will fuck you over."

She smiled faintly. "I told Harper not too long back I shouldn't have to live my life by street rules. Those rules keep you alive...but they don't let you live. They keep a knife out of your back, but you have to surround yourself with hard motherfuckers who care more about things, or the fear of others, than people and what happens to them."

She puffed on her cigarette. "As for being used...one of my old teammates said I let everyone in my life use me so I could at least feel fucking useful."

Jack blinked, then shook her head. "What an asshole."

Shepard's lips quirked. "I miss my old NCT...but I think Liara was right about them, and Dunn was right too. They used me. But I _let_ them use me. Not because they made me feel useful, but more like I was … a part of something."

Jack's expression tightened, but she said nothing. Shepard only puffed on the cigarette again. "In the end, though, I found people – or they were forced on me – that made me face shit about my beliefs. That made me see I was wrong. That not everyone uses. That sometimes people are willing to risk things because they actually care."

She made a vague gesture upwards with her cigarette, leaving a trail of smoke."Tali was given a quarter of a million credits and a ship. She could have returned home a hero. She didn't – spent her money so Jeff could walk and fought with us until she got her leg blown off. Then kept trying to fight, to get my body back, until Broker fucks blew her arm off. When she finally got back home...her own people double crossed her and tried to kill Jeff."

She blew out a smoke ring. "Pressly's wife threw his shit in the trash and was fucking a guy half her age while he was damn near dead helping me fight Saren and Benezia, and then they shot him when he went back and was pissed about it. Garrus had to throw away his career and risk his honor – big shit for turians – just to go after Saren, and his girlfriend ended up facing down a member of the Thirty – as a clanless – and had the perfect opportunity to double cross me but didn't. Liara's own government was doing everything but giving out blow jobs to get her killed off because of the shit her mother did. I won't even go into the bullshit Ash went through...or some of my other friends."

She exhaled. "I used to say if I kept everyone at arm's length I couldn't get hurt. I know now that if you do that you also have no one to pick you up when you fall. Pushing people back keeps them away, yeah, but if you just keep pushing people back, it doesn't fucking help either. Did that for years, all it did was make me into a lonely, bitter, hateful wreck."

Jack snorted. "Better that than dead, though."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Is it? Is it better to live every day thinking they're all out to get you, to never fit the fuck in, to always be on the outside wondering what the shit you did wrong? I lived that for … a long time. Never made a goddamned thing 'better'."

She laughed. "No wonder Ahern called me an emo clown. I was. I still am in some ways, I guess. Here I am bitch-moaning at you about trusting people when I don't trust Cerberus as far as I can pee standing up."

Jack shrugged. "I'm not you. I can't just ignore the shit I've lived and do things your way." She bit her lip. "I get some of it. But … when you get burned again and again -"

She broke off. "After Cerberus...freed me, cleaned me up, they set me up with some fucking academy bullshit. Nice idea, but one of the teachers liked little girls. So I ran away. Needed space. Hitched rides … ended up running with some mercs from Tathon. One of 'em said I reminded him of his daughter. Gig was okay for a while until some fucker decided he wanted a piece of ass and wasn't taking no for an answer. So I stabbed him and broke his ass in half with my biotics. The mercs...they said I was a murderer and gave me up to the bounty services."

She grimaced. "Got out after six weeks because some gang blew the place to shit to free their guys. Rolled with them, got some kick-ass ink. Ended up on Omega. Met some interesting people." Jack's voice softened. "Thought I was in love. Turns out, she was just using me. I got set up as a decoy on a run and left for dead."

Jack looked up at Shepard. "Lived through that – ended up in a cult. Weird cult. Lots of sex, lots of drugs, lots of praise. Turned out to be some kind of shit of the Broker's...and they threw me in a slave camp for the Broker's people to pick up once they figured out my biotics were different. Blade of Eris saved me. We were doing good shit. Yeah, we blew up some stuff we shouldn't have...but we were fucking saving people!"

Shepard tilted her head. "And then you ran into the Deathwatch."

Jack snorted. "Yeah. And I end up wondering how long it would have taken for the Blade to figure out a reason to sell me out." She shrugged. "Trusting people isn't my speed – I can't do shit like you do."

Shepard sniffed. "No, you can't. I get that. People who never got fucked over and out tell you to get over it, or that you're being a bitch about it, but they don't get it. I can see why you'd not listen to that. But when someone who has gone through the shit is telling you the same thing, maybe changing how you look at the world would help."

Jack rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid. I get what you're saying. There's people out there who aren't complete fucks. So what? How long did it take you to find people who wouldn't fuck you up the ass? How much bullshit do I have to go through till I find someone who won't betray me?"

Shepard dropped her cigarette, crushing it out on the deck, then picked up the butt and moved the ashes around with her toe. "_**I** _won't betray you."

Jack looked at her with some unspoken emotion on her finely boned features, and then shook her head. "...words. You'd betray me in a fucking heartbeat to save Tali or – "

Shepard held up a hand. "I sacrificed people in my career, yeah. This is real fucking life, girl. When I went after Benezia, I left Garrus and Tel to fucking die holding a line to make sure we didn't get shot in the back by reinforcements. You think I felt good about that shit? I felt like trash. Trash sells out their friends to 'get the job done'."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I hated seeing my boys and girls be shot to pieces, bleeding and dying because my dumb ass didn't know a way to stop it. I lead every fucking assault and got blown up more than once trying to keep from having to pull that stunt. But yeah. I'd sacrifice you – and Tali – and everyone fucking else if I had to in order to stop the Reapers from killing everyone."

She stared hard into Jack's eyes. "But I won't do it to profit from it, or save my own fucking life. I didn't solo Okeer because I thought I was a badass. It's because I'm a goddamned machine. You can fix me, like a beat up MAKO. You and Tali taking hits from that crazy fuck would have left you in a pile of salsa, and not even the good salsa, the watery shit they serve in Taco Uno."

Jack made a choking sound, then burst out laughing. "...heh." She shook her head. "Why you saying this shit, anyway?"

Shepard adjusted her position. "Because, no matter what goes down, I need your help, and I'm going to put you in situations where you could end up as Taco Uno salsa if things go to shit. And on the Shepard Magical Express, things ALWAYS go to shit. I'm not offering to train you because of some goddamned crap where we'll bond, you'll look up to me, and flowers rain down from the heavens. Training you how to move on from where you are now is also in my own best interest. Tetrimus is the undisputed hardest fuck in the entire galaxy."

She smiled. "I have to make sure you're willing to trust me enough to risk your life. I'd do the same for you. I need that, because even if I'm left with working with Cerberus, that doesn't mean I can trust them. They're useful to me. I'm useful to them...and when I'm no longer useful who knows what the fuck they'll do."

She sighed. "And I figure someone who has been double-crossed like you won't ever do that shit to me. Am I wrong?"

Jack looked back up. "...no. Fuck no. You're not wrong." There was an almost embarrassed anger in her voice, and Shepard nodded.

"Good. And because of that, I want you to be the best you can be. That's why I train you." She laughed quietly. "It shouldn't be too hard. You have the first step – being a badass – down pretty good already, from what I saw on Korlus."

Jack arched an eyebrow. "What's step two, bang the shit out of an asari? Did that on Omega, bitch was in my head and still fucked me over."

Shepard shook her head. "There's not a guide – or if there is, I wish someone would have let me see it. It's more …" She thought back to the psychology primers Udina had given her. "It's about taking controlled risks. I didn't bust you out of ice and offer you whatever you wanted to double-cross you, Jack. Let it fucking go. I did, and ...hell, before I died? I was actually enjoying life. You can too."

The biotic was silent for a long moment before sighing. "...shit is complex."

Shepard leaned back. "Yeah, well, so are you. We all have things in our lives that make no sense. You don't like Cerberus, but you were chatty with those two guys from the shuttle."

Jack's expression twisted. "Kai and Pel? They're … it's just weird, I don't know. I don't even know why the hell they're interested in me. Not to fuck." Her face took on a thoughtful cast. "Not that I would mind. But … it's like they don't really care, but are...what? Waiting to see what I'll do? Kai keeps expecting me to understand whatever the hell he's going on about, and Pel said I'll understand it when I figure out why everything is a joke. Whatever that means."

Shepard closed her eyes, thinking back. "When I was younger, the person who shaped me the most was...a woman named Rachel Florez. She was a training officer in the Penal Legions. She was a vicious bitch with a chip on both fucking shoulders...and completely badass."

Shepard opened her eyes again. "I never understood, back then, why Rachel worked so hard to make me better, when she used to tell me she didn't care. I never understood why she would put up with me when I fucked up, or listened to all my … whining."

"But it felt...good. To have her care, even if I didn't get it. I wanted to impress her. I wanted to make her happy she'd spent the time on me. Anderson...another person who was big in my life...he never demanded anything from me. He was just .. supportive. Listening. Rachel pushed me. Rachel made me hard."

Jack's expression was almost unguarded, and Shepard smiled. "She told me, towards the end, that she saw a lot of me in herself. Maybe those two do as well. I got around to reading the records about Teltin – and how they were the ones who shut it down. And in some of what they wrote, they talked about shit they went through when they were younger."

Jack's voice was almost a whisper. "Yeah. I … it's just fucked, you know? Cerberus jacked up my whole life. And Cerberus freed me and – if the cheerleader isn't lying – kept me from getting killed more than once. They sent the intel to the Blade of Eris to break me out of that slave camp."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Miranda gave you Cerberus intel?"

Jack shrugged. "The cheerleader showed me some of the files I asked about. After bitching about it, of course. She says they've changed, but for a long time they were into sick fucking shit. Worse than the crap they pulled on me. And TIM don't strike me as the kind of guy who won't get into crap like that because it's bad." She puffed on her cigarette before snuffing it with a small application of her biotics.

"Knowing they saved your life...it fucks with your head. Do you hate them? Tell yourself the ones who did it are dead and the ones who tried to make it right are okay?" Jack's voice had a slight waver to it as she stood, abruptly. "It makes you want to do dumb shit." She glanced at Shepard. "Why are you even working for them anyway? You blew them up."

Shepard shrugged. "Cerberus is just like … some of the other situations I was talking about. One of those things where on the surface, trusting them seems logical. But then I remember the things they used to be involved in, and I'm never sure if they can really be trusted or not."

She flexed her hand. "Even if they brought me back from the dead."

Jack snorted. "So why not bail? Go to the Council."

Shepard shrugged. "Let's just say I know enough about how the Council and the Alliance works to think they won't listen to me like TIM does. I'm as ambivalent about them as you are. They got my friends killed bringing my body back...but now I wonder if at least some of them would have been killed or worse either way. And I need their resources."

She slapped her stomach. "This body isn't natural. Without the docs at the base – and the cash and all that – I'm probably dead."

Jack tilted her head, then smirked. "Yeah, I can fucking _tell_ that body ain't natural."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Jack..."

Jack's smirk widened. "Oh, lighten the fuck up, grandma. Besides, you still don't need Cerberus. I mean, there's lots of other pirate groups out there besides the Umlor. Could just plunder them all to pay for your shit. This ship is a powerhouse...and you have a fucking fleet. Take down all the pirates...siege fucking Omega...roast that bitch Aria over an open fire."

She stretched, and then grinned at Shepard. "It'd be fun. I could lead the boarding parties. And that Vigil thing could hack all the cash you needed."

Shepard grinned. "Tempting. Very tempting." She shook her head. "But stopping the Collectors is more important, and I can't do that right now without the intelligence Cerberus provides. Not to mention they're the only ones who really know how to fix me up and keep me going."

Jack rolled her eyes. "Well, duh. Did you fucking expect them to not put a leash on you?"

Shepard stood. "We'll see in time if they can be trusted, Jack. Right now...can I trust you? To have my back? And to watch the backs of my friends?"

Jack lay back on her bed, closing her eyes. "I'm not the one who stabs people in the back." She frowned, turning her head to Shepard. "Why does it matter?"

Shepard grimaced. "Because you might be right. I might be right. There might come a day I have to turn on them. And I don't want to wait until then for you to choose a side."

Jack snorted. "Like that shit would happen. Like I said, I don't cut and run. Look, if they pull something stupid enough to turn you on them, it probably means they would want to stick me back in a lab. I'm not having that shit."

Shepard nodded. "Fair enough." She turned to leave, but Jack sat up.

"Is that it?"

Shepard turned back to face her, arching an eyebrow. "...what do you mean?"

Jack's expression was difficult to read. "Usually by this time someone's trying to get in my pants. I don't get you."

Shepard sighed, leaning against the wall. "Jack, for most people, I've been dead for two years. For me, it's been ...barely two months. Oddly enough, after losing the person I loved more than anything, the idea of banging a scrawny crazy chick isn't real high on my list of priorities." Her lips curved. "Why are you so fixated on this?"

Jack's eyes flickered with a split-second of what may have been vulnerability, or hurt, but her voice was defiant. "I usually had to pay my way. Even in the Blade of Eris. That's all I'm good for in some people's eyes." Her voice was defiant and yet small. "The best way to make sure I was safer was being fucked."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "...do I _really_ strike you as the kind of person who'd demand that sort of thing?"

Jack looked away. "It's what I know. Sometimes you run with what worked in the past."

Shepard grimaced, remembering Rachel talking about selling herself in her youth, before the Alliance. "That part of your life is over as long as you're rolling with me. All I demand from you is that you work with the team and have my back." She gave the tiniest of smirks. "Besides, I don't think I'm really your speed. I like things pretty rough, way past whips and chains."

Jack nodded, and then grimaced. "I, uh." She actually looked confused for a second, and blushed before looking up. "I ...um. Yeah. Me too. I wouldn't say no."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose again. "That fucking _figures_." She cleared her throat. "Look. I'm bad at this kind of thing. But right now I'm … way too torn up to even think about anything like that. Emotionally."

Jack looked mortified and only nodded. Shepard shook her head and chucked. "It's funny. Liara had the same sort of hero-worship shit." She exhaled. "Given that they probably put Miranda on my ship as some kind of bait … "

Jack looked up, then laughed. "I knew it! No way they'd have her and Chambers wearing some shit you couldn't catch the Consort in for no reason!"

Shepard merely nodded. "Hopefully they aren't that stupid." She bit her lip. "Hey. I know even talking about that kind of shit is rough. Like I said. Not now. Not sure when, either. It's not something I've even thought about."

Her jaw tightened. "I always figured Liara would outlive me and I encouraged her to move the fuck on if I died. But living fucking hurts. Right now..."

Jack shook her head. "Hey. No. I get it. I'm … just fucking go, okay? I got a lot of shit to think about, about what you said." She gave an almost bleak smile. "...thanks. I guess."

Shepard nodded, and ascended the stairs, then headed to the elevator. She had other things to do, but after that conversation, she needed a drink.

**O-TWCD-O**

Twenty minutes later, she was sitting in the couch in her quarters, sourly thinking about Jack while drinking her fourth glass of scotch.

The girl – young woman – was obviously an emotional wreck.

Which, from Shepard's limited understanding, made sense. You lost your crew you ran with after being betrayed over and over again, prison raped, beaten, and frozen. When you wake up you're given over to someone who turns out to be your childhood hero. Your whole life up to this point has been based on trying to be useful enough to not get double-crossed, and if that meant whoring yourself out, so be it.

Jack, on a Cerberus ship with no one she was sure she could trust, and her first mission a hellscape ending in going up against a krogan thousands of years old, was probably a bit shaky.

On reflection, it was perfectly obvious, given Jack's background and her own dumb phrasing, why Jack acted the way she did.

She took another sip of her scotch. "Another quality Shepard moment. Ah, but I have so _many_."

Dealing with that conversation wouldn't be hard. It never happened. Acting on it would be completely fucking stupid. Two years in the real world, two months in her own – burying her grief and loss in someone like Jack was probably using her worse than the poor girl had ever been used in her life.

That didn't stop her from thinking about it. She pinched the bridge of her nose, then a chime at her door pulled her from reverie.

"Enter."

Kelly Chambers entered, wearing the body-hugging Cerberus suit she usually sported, and glanced around before stepping inside further. "I'd expected you to … personalize the place a bit more."

Shepard leaned back. "Why? It's not like I had a lot of personal possessions. Most of them were on Intei'sai, and I expect the fucking SA has repossessed everything I had anyway. Given that we haven't stopped anywhere I could go shopping, I don't own shit."

She gestured at the fish-tank. "And some of this shit...I mean, really? Do you fucking really think I'd buy some fish? Why is that thing there anyway?"

Kelly chuckled, crossing the room to pick up Shepard's cigarettes and take one, lighting it and sitting down across from her. "My idea. Distractionals. Fish are something you have to feed, pay attention to. Get attached to without any real guilt when they die. And they're pretty to look at."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "You just up here to steal my booze again, Chambers? Or pick at my brain?"

Kelly smiled, reaching over to the small locker and pulling out the bottle of scotch and an extra plastic glass. "Both, actually. Haven't had an opportunity to follow up on our initial discussion...and I worry that delaying it isn't helping you."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "I've been busy. And I'm fine. Smashing the shit out of krogan is very cathartic."

Kelly laughed, sipping the scotch. "And I'm not complaining, Shepard. It's been a turbulent week, dealing with Jack, with Okeer. Exposing yourself to your old friend Kuril was probably emotionally draining as well. I'm just here to talk about it, even if it makes no sense."

Shepard gave her a dubious look. "Talk about what?"

Kelly leaned back, pushing a lock of her red hair into place. "Anything. Everything. Listen to you bitch, answer questions, whatever. That's what you need, I think."

Shepard frowned. "Don't see there's much to discuss, about me. Jack has a boatload of issues, but that's neither here nor there – and a private affair."

Chamber's expression shifted to impish amusement. "Jack is very … _colorful_. And she does have quite a few problems. Unfortunately, too many of them stem from Cerberus itself. What Cerberus did to her makes me question why I'm here sometimes, even if we did get around to half-ass fixing it later."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Doubts in your own alien-killing club?"

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Shepard, please. Not all of us went around cutting up aliens. I spent more time fucking them than fighting them. I never had a problem with aliens, individually. Alien governments, not so much my speed."

Shepard was still processing the first half of that statement. "...wait. You slept with aliens? Asari?"

Kelly puffed on her cigarette. "Asari, turians, salarians, drell – who are a BLAST once you're bombed on their kisses – hanar a couple of times. I think turians are my favorite, although goddamn clean up is a pain the ass."

Shepard's jaw dropped.

Kelly grinned. "I was … um. Well. I wasn't always Cerberus...and I paid my way through college on Cyrene, as a dancer and 'experience' for asari interested in humans. Almost flunked out because I was too busy banging blues to actually go to class, and damn near just gave up to do the dancing and escort thing full time." She sipped the scotch again.

Shepard sat forward. "And you stopped because...?"

Kelly shrugged. "Bad breakup with an asari. REALLY bad, almost killed myself bad. Anyway, it shook me up enough to reconsider my priorities. Finished my degree, went off to do Alliance inter-work psychological studies. You know, the Alliance trying to understand aliens, them trying to understand us. Turian psychologists are … really strange. Lived with a turian for two years, almost ran off with him to the Hierarchy, then he got killed in a training accident. Bit of an emotional wreck...the rest was just me acting out, I think."

Shepard mused over this, putting out her own cigarette. "What drove you into Cerberus, then?"

Kelly frowned. "That's...personal." She paused, then made an almost angry, vague gesture. "Just keep it to yourself. _Please_. I was messed up from two train-wreck relationships with aliens, and things spiraled down from there. My career was ruined because I didn't back the line that the Alliance wanted to hear on some research I was doing, and in trying to find out why, I stumbled across some things I shouldn't have. Stuff the Alliance knew the asari were pulling on us."

She sighed. "I was dumb enough to think I could go public with it. I'm not sure how it all went down, but Cerberus saved my life from a Nightwind assassin who had me spread-eagle and half-brain fucked. Trellani put my head back together and … I started to do what I could to help them."

The psychologist's green eyes were haunted by something, and Shepard nodded sourly. "Jesus fuck, I wish I could meet someone whose entire life wasn't a goddamned train-wreck sometimes."

Kelly gave a wry smile. "A lot of otherwise good people ended up in Cerberus out of bitterness. A lot of them – Kai and Pel, Petrovsky and Rasa – were fucked over by the SA themselves."

Shepard looked up. "Petrovsky? _General Petrovsky_? He's fucking _Cerberus_?"

Kelly smiled. "That's right, he was one of the few who went to bat for you back in the day. Yes, he...he's the director of the military assets we have now. He's at our main facility."

Shepard sighed. "Anybody else I know in this thing?"

Kelly shook her head. "Very doubtful. The von Graths had only the most tangential connection to us – and that was just before your death. Kyle, and the President, were both getting information from us, and we had a pair of Commissars working with us. But the majority of Cerberus was rogue from the SA even before Mr. Harper had you kill off the Iron and Shadow cells."

Kelly sipped her drink, and shifted on the couch. "Getting off track. What's important is that I don't hate aliens, and I know more about them than a lot of humans do. It's one of the main reasons why I was assigned to you rather than some other Cerberus psych, like Doctor Minsta, who thinks aliens are best when dead or on petri dishes or something."

Shepard nodded slowly. "I see. Any other reasons why you're here?"

Kelly gave her a long look, before taking a puff on the cigarette. "A couple. I'll be as open and straight with you as I can. I'm here, like I said, to provide psychological support – to keep you going. Bluntly, that means my only priority is your stability and survival. I'm personally committed to that – I was on the Citadel when Nazara struck, and we'd all be fucking dead if not for you."

She tapped her ashes with a hand that shook slightly. "I still have nightmares about that. I won't lie and pretend Cerberus doesn't have an agenda. The Illusive Man has been as open and truthful about that as he can. We haven't lied to you, but we certainly have arranged things so that working with us is the easiest choice."

Shepard drained her glass of scotch. "No shit."

Kelly shrugged. "A second reason why I'm here is to provide you with insights as to why we do things a certain way. Miranda means well, but she was goddamned raised by Harper, and she's going to see things his way no matter what. Taylor doesn't have any insight into the organization, and Ezno – ugh. So when you want to scream at Cerberus for doing something or demand answers for why we did shit, I am here to answer those questions as well – and in a way that won't fuck your mind up."

Kelly leaned back. "Finally, and don't take this the wrong way – but the biggest reason I'm here has to do with you, yourself."

Shepard eyed the woman carefully. "Kelly, if you make a pass at me, I will _end_ you."

The redhead burst out laughing. "Oh, god. No, that would be … well, _waaay_ too kinky, given I'm actually more hardcore than you." She giggled again at the poleaxed expression on Shepard's face. "Turians. _Seriously_. Give them a try."

Smothering her mirth, she shook her head. "No. When I mean I'm here because of you, it's because I did most of the prep work and psychometry for reconstructing your mind. I know it must seem horribly violating, but we had to review a lot of memories we transferred to your gray-box to make sure everything … worked correctly. For ethical reasons, only Ms. Lawson and myself viewed those directly. I argued long and hard that if the Illusive Man viewed them, you'd never trust him. He does not even have copies."

Shepard grimaced. "Ugh."

Chamber shrugged at her. "If I'm honest? Miranda didn't have the guts to watch most of it. I did. Threw up a few times towards the beginning, but I did. Both Miranda and I are not going to let this turn into a clusterfuck – I swear on my soul. Yes, we'll use you. Yes, we want you on our side. Yes, goddamn it, Cerberus has fucked up and will probably fuck up again."

She exhaled, her voice taking on an almost pleading note. "But we're not going to sell you out, or try to have you do something you would not put your name behind. We're not going to pretend our hands are clean – but whose ARE, Shepard? The Council? The SA? At least we're trying to do better."

She leaned forward. "What do you think they're going to say when your real identity comes out? Why do you think we went to so much trouble to back you with as many aliens as possible instead of a posse of Cerberus goons?"

Kelly leaned back. "The Council is going to stab you in the back, not us."

Shepard drained her scotch. "Jack and I had a conversation about trust and betrayal. It's hard to trust when most of what you've known is betrayal. Harper made it clear that while he was taking a gamble, it wasn't one he'd not made very sure wouldn't blow up on him."

Kelly folded her arms. "Okay. And?"

Shepard poured herself another drink. "It just makes me thoughtful. Let me put it in a way you can understand.." She stood, glass in hand, and walked over to the window inset into the wall, staring out at the endless dark expanse of the stars beyond.

"Every since the moment I stood with Garrus and Liara before the … representation of Nazara, and heard his voice, his dismissal of us as even worth his attention, I've known we're all fucking dead. Nothing survives the Reapers. Liara said they'd been doing this shit since the dinosaurs went extinct. Vigil says our tech is basically rocks and leaves, and the people who made him went out like bitches. I saw their last stand on Eingana. I'm not even sure we can _win_ this. I sure as fuck don't know _how_."

She drank again, setting her forehead against the cold armaglass. "The Council is doing the best they can because every race is into sick shit, so they can be top dog. I've had my eyes opened to the SA – and I can't imagine you pull shit like NOVENSILES because you discovered the asari and salarians want to sing songs and hold hands."

She pushed off the wall, turning to face Kelly again. "I'm convinced, after reading the news of what happened after I died, that the entire goddamned galaxy subsists mostly on _**idiot ball tea**_, and have convinced themselves the Reapers aren't coming anytime soon. That we'll have time to get ready. And the fact that the fucking Collectors are out there snatching up whole colonies and working with crazy fucks like Okeer tells me that's wrong."

She spread her hands. "And my own allies … you guys. I'm not stupid, Kelly. I stop the Collectors, cover myself with glory, win over the Council – and use that to get rid of the evil fuckers in charge of the SA right now. And who will step into that power vacuum at the top, hmm? Am I _really_ supposed to believe Harper isn't taking advantage of this fucking situation just as cold-bloodedly as every other fucker with power in the galaxy?"

Kelly was silent for several seconds, then shrugged. "No. He'll probably tell you that much himself. My question is, so the fuck what, Shepard? Do you see any good alternatives? The Council won't move on this because too many people don't know the truth, and too many people are just petty and shallow enough, if they knew the truth, to abuse it to take power or start something stupid."

Shepard shook her head. "That's not the point. The point is that you have no goddamned idea why I don't trust your group. I'm not worried about you backstabbing me. You didn't spend the money and effort on this to do that. But that is different than trusting you to do the right thing when the time comes for shit to change. It's trusting Harper not to use me in a way that hurts people. It's trusting Cerberus not to conceal shit from me that he plans as some kind of way to 'protect humanity'."

Kelly rubbed her chin. "And if the Council suddenly became reasonable? If they listened to you? Would you go to them, and presume they were any better?"

Shepard's lips twisted. "It isn't that the Council is better, Chambers. And if I have to explain why a highly visible group of multiple alien races is less likely to get up to shit than individual governments or a shady neo-terror organization, then you've had too much scotch."

Kelly snorted. "Didn't answer the question, though."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "What, if they come out and agree to work with me? Pfft. They're pragmatic. They'll be happy to work with me if the alternative is them looking weak. That's different from them backing me. I'll be happy to work with them – the same way I work with you. I'll be happy to listen to suggestions and take on tasking that meets my own needs and criteria. But I'm done taking orders from people I don't respect."

Kelly tilted her head. "And what would Mr. Harper – or anyone else – have to do to win that respect?"

Shepard half turned to face her. "Show me that doing the right thing matters more than doing what's in their own best interest. Show me that they value stopping the Reapers – but not at a cost that means even if we win that we fucking lose."

Kelly looked surprised at this. "I figured you would be all for getting the job done at any cost."

Shepard folded her arms. "Then perhaps, doctor, you don't quite understand me as well as you think you do. I acted that way when the only choices were getting things done at any cost or everyone dying. If the choices are dying or worse than dying...maybe you shouldn't have picked a champion who has nothing left to fight for but revenge and anger."

Kelly nodded thoughtfully, and opened her mouth to speak when Vigil suddenly appeared. "Primitive. Doctor Sedanya wishes communication. She is in the port cargo hold with the genetically engineered krogan – she had me decrypt the security interface on the life-pod."

Shepard nodded. "I'll be there in just a minute." The sphere popped, and Shepard glanced back at Kelly. "I think we're done."

Kelly shrugged. "You're the boss. I can't speak to what Mr. Harper's long term plans or motivations are, but I am confident he won't do anything so morally repugnant that you would object. But if I'm gonna be honest here, Shepard? I think the biggest problem is you can't even articulate what in the hell he, or Cerberus, would have to do to make you trust us and believe in what we do."

The psychologist exhaled. "Whatever you think the Illusive Man has planned, I'd say you aren't the best judge of deciding what should and shouldn't be done to make things better. You still want to see things in black and white, good and bad. Unless the galaxy suddenly changes, that kind of thinking will just get us messed over by the asari and salarians."

Shepard pursed her lips. "And you think Harper has a better idea? I've been told over and over the other races are up to no good - but never given specifics. Maybe if I knew what he knew I'd feel the same way … but more likely my answer would be that it's not other alien races that are fucked up, just their goddamned leaders. If TIM's grand plan is for me to go around cacking everyone who acts like an evil, moustache-twirling moron, then I'd sign up _right fucking now_."

She huffed. "But while he's been open about stopping the Collectors, he hasn't leveled with me what his grand plan is. And just because he's different from the SA doesn't mean what he has in mind will be any fucking better."

She sighed. "In the end, Chambers, what it comes down to is me having faith. And faith requires believing in something - something that lines up with what you want to be true, something you agree with. He hasn't... given me a reason to do that. And he hasn't shown me yet that he's going to make the right choices, or take the right path."

Kelly gave a lopsided smile. "I think he's studied what would be needed to determine the 'right path' more than you have. And honestly? It isn't as simple as you make it out to be. We have detailed intelligence on what the Thirty, the SIX and other alien leaders are up to - most of it worse than anything in the SA. I could tell you some of it myself, but .. hell, I didn't want to believe most of it when I first found it. Us shoving supposed atrocities at you is just more stuff you could say is made up on our part."

Kelly's eyes met those of Shepard. "I understand the reasons for your… hesitation. But I still feel that the problem isn't him, or Cerberus. It's your own doubts that are the problem - and as long as you don't have to deal with them, then you can tell yourself it's not your responsibility."

She set her glass down. "You said be straight with you. I am. You have to make the next move."

Shepard nodded. "...alright. I'm … fuck." She ran her hand through her hair. "You probably have a point about me being unsure what I need to see to trust you guys as fully as I used to trust the SA. I may never trust … anything like that again. It's a big thing for me to change my mind on...and I have a lot of other shit going on in my head right now."

She firmed her jaw. "As for responsibility, I will say this: I only give people one fucking chance to betray me - and that includes doing shit that you know full well I don't agree with. And I'm not convinced - despite what Timmy Boy says - that it won't happen. I am a no-exceptions kind of bitch, so when it goes down it won't end well for you guys."

Shepard gave an almost sad smile. "As much of a bitch as you are some times, I like you. And I like Miranda. I'd hate to kill you both over some stunt Harper pulls. It's not just me being … difficult."

Kelly smiled. "I know. Put that way, I'm sure me bringing this up seems pushy - and I'm not trying to pressure you. I just want you to think about it. Other than that...like I said. If you need to talk about anything, that is what I'm for."

Shepard glanced around the room and sighed. "I...I _might_ need to talk about Jack. Later." She smirked. "Or about turians versus asari."

Kelly laughed and headed for the cabin door. "Not even a comparison, really."

**O-TWCD-O**

The strange life-support tank they'd taken with them from Okeer's base was sited in the port side cargo hold of the ship, and Shepard arrived there shortly after Kelly left.

Doctor Sedanya had been investigating the pod since its arrival, mostly to determine exactly what Okeer was up to from a medical viewpoint. That had been complicated by the fact that the pod was sealed, with an armored carapace and extremely strong digital defenses. Bypassing these without damaging the pod had taken some time.

The pod's armored sides had retracted, revealing the occupant within – a giant, young krogan in heavy armor, floating in faintly blue tinted liquid. Sedanya, when Shepard arrived, was circling the tank, tapping on her omni. She glanced up as Shepard entered, and then held up a hand as she finished typing something. After a brief examination of the results, the asari doctor frowned.

"Thank you for coming, Shepard. This … device, and the being within, are of great concern to me."

Shepard nodded. "Alright, why is that?"

Sedanya gestured. "As you can see, it contains a krogan. But not just any krogan. This one is literally engineered to be as close to perfection as possible. Very young – mature in terms of size, but the crests are not even fully fused, and some areas of bone are still growing. Very high baseline fitness. Modifications to the muscles, integrated bone weaves, and a host of other genetic enhancements."

Shepard folded her arms. "Anything else of note?"

Sedanya was examining her omni-tool. "Hard to say, Shepard. As I said, there is a vast amount of genetic alteration done to his DNA, with modifications to his sight, regeneration factor, glandular systems...pretty much every aspect. He has the standard gene markers for the Genophage, so this isn't some miracle cure test subject."

She walked around the tank. The krogan was huge, nearly Okeer's size, clad in gleaming black armor that covered everything but his face, crest, and upper arms. Said arms bulged with corded muscle, bigger around than her thigh. The crest was silvery and broken up along the edges , the sign of what in krogan would be a teen – Shepard remembered Urv's own crest had looked similar.

"Is it .. awake?"

Sedanya chuckled. "Not precisely. The pod itself is a life-support unit combined with some kind of … teaching program. The krogan is not conscious, but is … aware of whatever it is being instructed in. There's a fairly complex VI in this thing somewhere – but the unit is a sealed mechanism. The only controls I can see on it are the opening mechanisms and power, water, and nutrition line feeds."

Shepard snorted. "So it could very well be hostile, considering who the shit made it."

Sedanya nodded. "Then again, Shepard, most krogan are hostile _anyway_."

Shepard smiled. "Sometimes. They can be … interesting to fight with, or alongside."

The asari doctor gave that curious asari shrug. "No doubt. My main concern is that the managing VI controlling the pod has a video file attached that is designed to be viewed upon access."

Shepard let her weight fall back onto one leg. "Jesus, melodramatic speeches from the grave. This clown ticked every box on the 'supervillain' checklist, didn't he? Well, let's hear it."

Sedanya nodded, tapping her omni, and then a moment later the glassy surface of the tank was occluded by a projected omni-field, displaying the calm features of Okeer.

"_Any number of foes could be the ultimate cause of my destruction, but I fear the most likely would be those familiar enough with my work to see its threat. Given that such agencies are at the beck and call of interstellar governments, I doubt my words will sway you, but I must try._"

Okeer's rich bass rolled out. "_This is my finest work, my life's achievement. He is the re-invigoration of the krogan people. His genes are refined from the mightiest of krogan heroes and warriors. His mind is enhanced by a system of training and teaching programs covering many aspects of both warfare and other topics. He is no threat to you – you can no doubt verify yourselves, he has the Genophage."_

_"I crafted my soldier to prove a point. One, I suspect, my old friends the salarians will grasp, the asari will sneer at, the turians will find confusing, and the krogan, of course, will fear. The Genophage does not make the krogan stronger. It makes them weaker. It selects, if such can be used as a descriptor, only on the ability to endure the Genophage. Not on intellect. Not on strength. Not on restraint."_

The wide muzzle opened in a mocking smile. _"It produces krogan that are bereft of any option save brute violence and the rejection of culture, of advancement. It has trivialized life to little more than the coddling of younglings, reduced our females from wise advisers to loot. And worst of all, it has given the krogan every reason to hate and fear, and no reason to change or evolve."_

Okeer's voice deepened. _"The Genophage was not ready … and yet I forced the hand upon the trigger, for the best of reasons. It has utterly broken the pride of the krogan. It has sapped their arrogance and made them realize the power of science and medicine they once mocked as unnecessary. Perhaps that is merely my own pettiness, projecting revenge across a billion dead infant krogan."_

_"But my soldier – and others like him, already seeded into krogan across the galaxy – will change that. The Genophage markers are present … but their target will eventually begin to shift. The base retroviral package you came up with – and that you assumed your Doctor Solus had modified in secret – has been altered yet again."_

He folded thick arms._ "It will not undo the Genophage's work. The birth rate will stay steady. But the new phage will select based on genetic matching to the strongest aspects of the krogan. Instead of letting the weak survive, it will instead favor the strong. The krogan will, over time, become stronger. Smarter. More able to cooperate and less inclined to fight one another."_

_"As well, the mechanism of phage interference with the secondary glandular system that derails birth will now disrupt the process during secondary meiosis, not after fetal production. There will be no more piles of stillborn for the females to cry over. They simply will not get pregnant. Ever. Only the chosen few will be able to breed."_

_"My soldier is capable of spreading this mutation. It is a new path for the krogan. It is a path that will eventually lead them to one day joining the other races. It is my final revenge upon my own people – to remind them that I had their best interests in my plans all along, and the cost of such, while high, was nothing compared to salvation."_

_"You hold the fate of this change to the krogan in your hand. You could destroy my life's work, but you will not stop events already set into motion. Or you could embrace it. This soldier, eventually, will be able to take my place as a leader of my people – one they can accept rather than fear and hate. One who can guide them in war and hopefully ... in peace."_

The krogan doctor's head lifted. _"Destiny is in your hands, whoever views this. I have already gone to the halls of my fathers, and I have left my mark far and wide across the galaxy. But this soldier has committed no crimes. He has done no evil. If you are willing to use any means to secure galactic peace – then you should let my work do its job."_

_"Doctor Ganar Okeer, Warmaster of the Krogan Empire."_

Shepard watched the video shut off before turning to Sedanya. "...thoughts?"

Sedanya looked more than a little shaken. "The … scale of what he claims to have done to the Genophage is astonishing. But unleashing something like that is a decision for others, surely."

Shepard shrugged. "He said we could destroy it but that it wouldn't stop events already in motion. And I suspect if he made one, he probably made more." She stared up at the krogan, the eyes closed, almost peaceful looking.

Sedanya frowned. "Be that as it may...opening such a device without knowing the long term ramifications seems unwise, Shepard."

She exhaled. "Maybe. Then again, he's a possible source of information on what Okeer was up to as well as a natural combatant. Given the sort of shit we're headed into, we kind of need a super soldier."

Sedanya chuckled. "We have you already."

Shepard smirked, but before she could answer, Miranda's voice came across the comm.

"Shepard, the Illusive Man would like to speak with you before we rendezvous with Mr. Massani."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Thanks, Miranda. Doctor Sedanya has gotten access to the pod Okeer left us. Vigil, have four of your bots stand guard over this thing in case it suddenly opens. I haven't decided what to do with it."

"Of course, primitive. Might I suggest a perennial favorite action from Javik – the **airlock**? Keeping a genetically engineered super soldier created by a crazy krogan around seems unwise."

Shepard shook her head. "Or very useful, if he could be convinced to join me. I seriously need a heavy hitter and someone who can take a shot and not just turn into confetti." She turned to Sedanya. "Thank you for your help."

Leaving the hold, she strode down the corridor and entered the elevator, heading for the CIC and the comms room, while Vigil's voice continued to sound. "Very well. We continue to go over the data we found on Okeer's computers. One thing stands out – Okeer felt the Broker was moving his operations very deep into the far Traverse – almost to the edge of the galaxy. And much of his research seems to cogitate mostly on the concept of altering krogan evolution – making them much stronger, faster, smarter – while lowering birth rates. He comments in one set of log files about making the Genophage irrelevant, and in another about how his plans were 'twisted' by the salarians."

Shepard scowled as she exited the elevator. "Because that's real goddamned cheery. Based on what I just saw in that video, he succeeded, or at least claimed he did." She entered the lab, then stepped into the small passage to one side before walking into the comms room.

The glowing figure of Jack Harper was already there, seated and smoking. "I see you have recovered from your fight, Shepard. Miranda's report was somewhat disapproving of your decision to fight Okeer in single combat, but I see only advantages."

Shepard folded her arms. "Oh?"

He exhaled smoke. "When the truth of your identity becomes known … there are those among the krogan who will no doubt be impressed with the idea of a human killing their Eldest. I find anything that makes humanity out to be more dangerous than it is worth to attack to be the best deterrent."

Her expression soured. "Yeah. Tell that to the rachni."

He picked up his drink. "The rachni were not open to communication, from all reports. No matter. You will be meeting with Massani, soon. Once you've acquired him, reroute to the base. Matriarch Trellani has recovered Ms. Goto, and she has come across some extremely troubling information. By all reports, my people should also be making contact with Mordin Solus very soon – we could be in contact with him as soon as the end of the day, and will convey him to the base once we convince him to join us."

She nodded. "Alright. And after that? I don't have a good handle on next steps since we don't know where our target is – or any of these other people you want me to grab."

Harper puffed on his cigarette. "I believe the Broker will take the death of Okeer … poorly. He may attempt to attack the Sisters of Vengeance or Archangel, or to come after you directly. For the moment, though, expect to be sent in the direction of Omega. Given that Aria dislikes the Broker immensely, we may be able to enlist her assistance."

Shepard gritted her teeth. "Aria is about on the _top_ of the list of people I'd like to shove into an eezo grinder. Not really sold on working with the worst criminal in the entire goddamned galaxy."

The Illusive Man tilted his head. "Worse than me, even?"

She snorted. After a long second, she looked up. "Your problem, Harper, is that you let shit go too far. Sending your killers to free Jack after what she went through...means you aren't a complete asshole. Shutting down Cerberus has earned you my … limited trust so far. That doesn't mean the shit you got up to before that point is legit."

He dumped his ashes. "I find it amusing that given your own sordid past, you seem intent on judging me only by past and not present actions."

She folded her arms. "And I find it amusing that given your own experience with being used and double-crossed by the SA, and having what you made of yourself turned into some Sao Paulo level bullshit by Williams and Rachel, that you are shocked I'm a little hesitant about trusting you 100%."

He took a long sip of his drink. "Touche. Because of course, you are more likely to be betrayed by the man who spent billions of credits to bring you back rather than the Council who double crossed you before Ilos, and the Alliance, who did so multiple times. You don't really think Rachel could have moved you around so easily without their agreement, I hope."

She sighed. "I don't think you'll betray me – but I already had this conversation with Chambers. I have no idea what your intent is, and I'm skeptical that the end results of what you want and what I want line up."

He exhaled smoke. "I do not have the time or inclination to further prove my intent. But you are smart enough to read between the lines. The Council would not be dispatching Spectre task forces and STG teams to localize you if they didn't already see you as a threat – one that will escalate when you reveal your true identity."

He smiled thinly. "As for your other concerns...I would suggest our combined larger problems should take precedence. While you may dislike the idea of having to deal with Aria in any manner not including your shotgun, she could be very useful since she opposes the Broker, as I said."

She tilted her head. "Which part of 'sic semper sceleratus' sounds _optional_ to you, Harper? You keep chirping about how I wouldn't let Cerberus get corrupted if I'm there and you expect me to work with a tramp who is responsible of a third of all the slaving in the galaxy? Fuck, don't even get me started on all the shit that could go wrong with us working with _that_ trampy slaver bitch."

Jack Harper shrugged. "Ultimately? Omega will be a challenging environment. If you decide to kill Aria, it will destabilize the region – possibly making it easier for the Collectors to act. Not to mention that killing Aria is a … fairly tall order."

Her eyes flashed. "So was killing Okeer."

He puffed on his cigarette. "I do not doubt you could do it, only the wisdom of doing so – and your ability to survive the aftermath. But it will be your call, Shepard. I am just pointing out your options. My reason for calling is not merely to coordinate events. I have some … disturbing intelligence, but I would prefer to discuss it – in person – at your base."

Shepard folded her arms. "What about a short version?"

Harper's blue glowing eyes narrowed. "I believe the Batarian Emperor is indoctrinated and that there may be Reapers operating within the Batarian Empire. Wrap up events with Massani rapidly, Shepard. We'll route Doctor Solus to you as quickly as possible."

Shepard grimaced and nodded. "...alright." She killed the QEC, and ran her hands through her hair.

"What the fuck else could go wro – _**no**_. Don't say that."


	22. Arc II : That between despair and death

_**A/N**:_

_Garrus, Aria, and Mordin. Also Council Lulz, and Sparatus ascends to Greater Power of Trolls.  
_

_The section with Aria and Aethyta ... well, I am sure there will be **raeg**. That's what it's there for. _

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. They are the real heroes of this work. _

* * *

'_Cerberus not expected environment. Low tolerances for failure, excuses, bad puns. Also subpar access to exotic foods. Other than, conditions excellent. Except for ... crazy associates.' _

_\- Doctor Mordin Solus, recollections and notes, passed onto T'veah Solus._

* * *

"Easy, Garrus. Just... ease back. Let me get this shoulder piece off."

Garrus hissed as Melenis slowly began removing the SKYTALON armor, spurs tightening and fringe retracting in pain as she pulled the damaged shoulder section away. He managed not to cry out when part of his melted plating was pulled away with it, and sighed in relief a moment later when she injected him with a pain-killer.

"Guh... thanks." He hung his head, images flashing before his eyes.

The heat had turned up on Omega over the past week, the gangs finally beginning to seriously work together to try to oppose him. The situation was too dangerous now for most anyone but him to act directly – Erash had been detected by some Blue Suns on the last mission, ended up taking fragmentation grenades to the position he was in and barely getting out alive.

It was a sheer miracle Erash was able to escape and lead them to a sewage section where his blood trail washed away, but swimming through sewage had given him a life-threatening series of infections. He'd lost consciousness and was burning with fevers.

With Mordin Solus off station, and no other doctor they truly trusted, it was looking like he might not make it. Melanis was doing her best, but she was not a real doctor, and Ripper was out of options.

That was only the first of _many_ things going south.

Butler and Weaver had been hurt badly in trying to setup a remote data pickup, routed by Blue Suns snipers. Angel had nearly been killed by a Blood Pack ambush, and Ripper's lab – until now, never connected to them – was under constant watch by Aria's people now, keeping him from meeting up with them. That meant Vortash's cybernetics were unable to be repaired, and he'd been forced to remain at the base.

Archangel's attempt at taking out Tarek had blown up in his face, resulting in Garrus having to battle his way across half the station to evade a very competent group of Blood Pack trackers working with Blue Suns techno-scouts. Eclipse sisters, using biotic jumps, had managed to get up on the catwalks of the manufacturing district and engage him there, while Blood Pack gunners shot ion bombards at him.

They'd been unable to take down any of the leaders, and already faint rumors were starting that Archangel's days were numbered. The gangs' numbers were being swollen by the fragments of other gangs and groups shattered by Archangel, and driving him off for the first time with no heavy losses had boosted their morale.

Today, though... today, things had blown themselves to the Ashes.

He didn't speak as Melenis continued to remove his blood-spattered armor. The words of his father, of his military CO, of his instructors echoed around his head.

The calm, tired voice of Pallin. _"__Your disregard for what you see as 'useless red tape' is going to end up with you getting an innocent person killed sooner or later, and you aren't going to like how that feels."_

The clipped, concerned tones of his partner Forlan. _"__Garrus... you are too quick to anger. You react, sometimes without thinking of costs or consequences. I know Pallin seems like a bitter old cloaca lost in a world of doing things by the book to you. But sometimes, you have to do it the right way."_

The hard, cool voice of Shepard, the blue eyes meeting his almost in despairing hardness. _"__Vengeance is satisfying. Doing things the quick way is satisfying. Blowing the no-good fucks away is satisfying. But it never stops them. You kill this one guy, and this one guy, and this one guy, and sooner or later someone innocent gets caught up in the fallout. You can get things done that way, by ignoring the red-tape. But the costs come back to haunt you just as much."_

He gave a hollow, short laugh, and Melenis, working on the leg plates, frowned. "Garrus?"

He shook his head. "...nothing, Mel. Just... spirits." He let his head hang, mandibles loose for a long second. "I've become... something I didn't want to be."

She carefully lifted the last leg plate away and knelt directly in front of him, eyes gentle. "You mean the apartment tower."

He nodded. "I thought I had Tarek. I really did. Montague warned me – twice – that the explosives were powerful and going to cause collateral damage. I thought I was...I thought I'd set the trap up correctly. I was so confident I could take him – "

Melenis grabbed his hand, squeezing. "Garrus. You did what you thought was best. Taking out Tarek and Relli's Kiss at once was an opportunity too good to let fall by the tides. They've hurt and killed thousands."

Garrus sighed. "I know. But..." He closed his eyes, the images of the collapsing apartment tower flashing across his memory again. "I didn't kill them. I killed some flunkies...and sixty-eight innocent people. Eleven _children_!"

He trembled, hands shaking, voice flanging in ragged mismatch. "I was warned over and over that doing things my way, the quick way, would backfire. I always tried to be careful. Made sure no one else ever got hurt. But I let my anger get away from me."

Melenis gently lifted his chin. "No one is perfect. Do you think Angel never made mistakes? Do you think Krul has no regrets? Or Butler? Or I?" She sighed. "The deaths of the innocent are never something we should take lightly. The main problem I have with the stance of Sidonis is his belief that it is okay to kill ten innocents to save eleven others. But we do not live in a perfect world, or even a sane one."

She smiled sadly. "We live in _y'hathaiel, _that time between despair and death."

Garrus looked up. "And that excuses me incinerating sixty-eight people? How am I any better than a sirefucking gangbanger with that kind of excuse – that Omega is vile, so vile things happen?"

The anger in his voice did not drive her away, instead she answered with firmness and some heat of her own. "Fishbits! Garrus, you should already know the answer: when did any of the gangers have remorse over who they killed, accidentally or on purpose? They don't torture themselves over it. They don't cry out in their soul. They think the shit is _funny_."

He stood slowly, shaking his head. "And? It doesn't change what I've done."

Mel stepped back. "It doesn't change it. It does mean it is a completely different situation! I don't want any innocents to die! But even I, who have rejected violence myself, am not naive enough to think we can change Omega without there being costs we don't want to pay. Goddess, Garrus – people can walk the streets again! You don't have salarians being sold as cold cuts in the goddess-damned market!"

She got up in his face as best she could, given her shorter stature. "I don't understand you, Garrus. You're willing to commit atrocity after atrocity on those who are evil. Burn them alive. Pull them apart a limb at a time while they beg for mercy. A lot of them weren't murderers, they were associated with evil beings – but with no other options."

She gestured to the armor, now sitting on the floor, still needing cleaning. "That suit isn't Archangel. You are. If you're willing to act like a bloodthirsty lunatic to inspire fear, then you have to face the obvious consequences." She folded her arms.

"All they have to do to stop you is start using hostages. Wire up some little kids, set them to blow if you hit their operations. Like the Talons used to do. You didn't blame yourself for those deaths, why these?"

Garrus rounded on her. "The Talons killed those people. I avenged them. But tonight I made a mistake! I blew them to the Ashes with my own fucking hands! I could have waited – I could have found a better location, but I wanted Tarek dead in a way to mock him, and innocents paid the price." He stepped back. "It's not about... "

He broke off, and whirled, walking out of the room. Melenis almost went after him, then just hung her head, and began gathering up the armor to clean in the ultrasonic sink. Her features were set in a mask of despair and pain, as she wiped away angry tears, scrubbing almost without direction.

She had lifted the second armor piece to clean when she heard the heavy footfalls, and turned to see Krul, dressed as usual in layers of clothing. "Hey."

The krogan female leaned against the wall, her dark gray skin lined with intricate tattoos. "Another blow up with your would-be mate?"

Melenis found herself flushing hotly. "He isn't... he doesn't..." She sighed. "His only love is his dead wife." Her voice was bitter, and Krul chuckled.

"Pettiness, Melenis? Doesn't suit you." The big krogan came into the room fully, glancing over the armor neatly piled and ready for cleaning. "Then again, neither does subtlety. You've gone everything but strip naked for him and he continues to not respond. Does this not tell you something?"

Melenis ran the sonic wand almost savagely across the chest plate. "That he isolates himself on purpose? Why? So he can let himself stew in regrets? Goddess, I have done things in my past that would probably make him want to kill me, but I changed who I am. He's an intragalactic hero. He helped stop Saren and Benezia. He came here to save his friend, and even after losing everything he fights to save the innocent – and he is WINNING!"

She screamed the last word, hurling the armor down to whirl and face Krul. "And now he is going to be broken and destroyed over a mistake! Over a pack of people living in an upscale tower who were probably never 'innocent' to begin with! Gandu is full of parasites who made it rich off the blood of people in Vefu and the Lowers."

Krul nodded. "Perhaps. Darkness is in all of us. My people believe it is not whether you give into such darkness that matters, it is that you only do so when you must. He has not learned such a lesson – and does not want to. He wants to die, Melenis."

The asari slumped. "Why?"

Krul shifted her position. "...when I was young, I mistakenly thought I was destined to never bear live young. It turns out I was wrong, but at the time I felt the Genophage made me worthless. Many females give up hope on learning such a thing – some wander into the wastes to die. Others take up whatever useful work they can, trying to find a new purpose. Still others take up philosophy and trying to make the krogan a better people."

She smiled. "I, on the other hand, felt... free. I had no duty, no reason to care. The fate of my people did not rest on my hump. I had failed... and in failure, found victory. Later, when I found I was not infertile, my freedom became chains – and then it resulted in the events that drove me from my own home, my people. I was – ironically, because of my fertility – worthless. That insight has lead me here, to do something productive to those who still have hope – to aid those who cannot aid themselves, or free themselves."

She gestured towards the passageway. "Garrus, I think, once felt free when he was carving his own path. He is like no other turian I have met, and he does not accept the turian central truth – that the few are nothing to the many. He envisions crushing the unjust and evil, and then going off to do battle with the Broker in vengeance and wrath." Her smile widened. "Krogan would approve."

Melenis huffed. "You said he wanted to die. What does all of that have to do with dying?"

Krul's smile faltered. "He seeks out these goals because he feels he has nothing to live for. He has nothing to lose. Nothing else can hurt him. He wants to redeem himself and prove he was 'right', in some argument with someone from his past he has never spoken of. And yet, without his wife, he feels as if the argument – and any 'victory' – is ultimately pointless. He cannot see himself as a protector any longer, because he failed to protect that most valuable. So instead he became an avenger."

Krul shook her head. "Only to find out that he is a very poor avenger, as he still longs to protect and is horrified now that he had slain the innocent."

The krogan glanced up at Melenis. "Ultimately, Mel – Garrus will drive himself to a position where he can do nothing but die – and take those such as Tarek with him in said death. He has already given up on finding the Broker, I think. Angel's continued attempts at trying to talk him out of such may have worked, but as I warned Angel, doing so probably made him more unstable."

Melenis clenched her fists. "...there has to be something we can do."

Krul was silent several seconds, then nodded slowly. "Let me say this. You do not understand why he rejects you. It has nothing to do with his wife, or her death. It has everything to do with him...and you. Until you understand why he does not accept you, you cannot change him or reach him."

Melenis' face twisted with frustration. "Then tell me!"

Krul's answering smile was ghastly. "Do you really want to know? The answer will _ruin_ you. I think Angel already knows the truth."

Melenis scowled. "I have handled hard truths in life before."

Krul laughed softly. "Very well. The noose is closing around us. There are strange new hunters and gangs in the Black Walk, and literally dozens of bounty hunters. Aria has coyly hinted that she is displeased with Archangel. We cannot strike at will any longer, and without Solus' clinic we have no place to take our wounded. With Erash down our hacking is weakened. Without Ripper, those of us with cybernetics will die by inches."

She stood, turning to the wall. "The gangs have united. They hunt us day and night. There is every likelihood we will be found. And if we are found, no matter how hard we fight, we will all die."

Krul's voice hardened. "All of us will fight. Save you. You have sworn your vows to never harm another being again, never to pick up a weapon. When that day comes, Melenis, Garrus will have to kill you to spare you from the horrors of being captured by the gangers - he will not have anyone else burdened with that responsibility."

The krogan's voice raised as Melenis's eyes widened in horror. "A turian, forced to mercy-kill his own mate, after failing to protect his first mate? His mind cannot even conceive of such. It is not that he is not attracted. He is. I smell it upon him every day, and he flees from you not because he is frustrated or angry with you but because he fears his own reactions and emotions betraying him."

She shook her massive head. "But what you ask of him – to take you as his, and then to murder you to protect you – is a sacrifice he cannot make. Perhaps a turian more devoted to the ideals of turian culture could do so - they might even see it as protection of what they hold dear. But to him - given what he has already lost - it would be a violation of everything he is."

Melanis's voice came out a hollow whisper. "...I... I just..."

Krul roughly grabbed the asari's hand. "Typical asari. Listen to me. You want to heal Garrus? You think he can win this? Then break your idiot vow. Show him he matters more than your own convictions. If you aren't willing to break yourself for him, why should he break himself for you? And if you are willing to shatter the core of what you are now just to be with him... that may make him rethink events."

Melenis swallowed. "...I don't know... if..."

Krul sighed, letting go of her. "That remains your choice, girl. I have nothing else to say that will help you or him. I do know one thing. You're the only person who can make him want to live again. And without that, we're all going to die. It's a pity he doesn't go for krogan." The last was said in a musing but joking tone, and Melenis sighed and answered with a weak smile.

"...as always, thank you for your wisdom, Krul. I... I have a lot of thinking to do. But you are right in that I can't expect him to brave the ocean storm if I will not. My vow was not made lightly, and releasing it..."

Krul shrugged. "Personally I don't see why your races make such a big deal over sex and romance. You don't see krogan doing that. This is due to krogan romance involving wrestling and very bad poetry, but still."

Melenis' expression flickered into something like amusement, and the krogan gave her a little push. "I can wash the damned armor for once, especially since I'll have to help Butler later on with fixing up the shoulder and knee joints. Go pull yourself together... and think about it."

Melenis almost protested, but then nodded. "...I will. Thank you." She left in a patter of soft steps, and the krogan grunted before turning to the mess in the sonic sink. She shook her head and tugged an embedded piece of what looked like a leg bone from the segmented edging on the torso armor.

"By _Kalros_, did he pile-drive someone?"

**O-TWCD-O**

"Don't you think you've had enough, boss?"

Garrus glared at Sidonis, before shaking his head. "Give me the bottle before I hit you."

Sidonis tossed it, before readjusting Mierin on his lap. "Spirits, grumpy like a vakar in whelp."

Garrus opened the bottle of turian horchess, drinking deeply and shivering as the power of the drink hit him, making his vision waver.

Angel sighed, rubbing both temples before looking up. "Garrus...I know today was not the best outcome. I know you need time to recover. But time is tight, and we need to discuss our next … perhaps our final options."

Garrus glanced over at the human. "You and the rest of the team get on the merchant's shuttle and get the hell out of here. I lure the bastards here, draw them inside, kill their leaders and blow the place up. Without their leaders and lieutenants and with almost all the gangs gone, Omega will be free of the worst of the worst."

He sipped again. "What happens after that isn't up to me."

Angel shook his head. "Garrus, we discussed this already. The shuttle won't make it out of system. And the Wind Dagger's ship is in the main rings and undocking it would require us to hack the system. With Erash that might have been possible. Without him..."

Garrus shook his own head. "Then sneak out one by one. No one knows who you are."

Sidonis snarled. "Maybe some of us aren't sire-fucking cowards. I didn't come here to run away."

Garrus gave him a flat look. "You have your life in front of you. Throwing it away on an empty gesture is stupid when it will just get both you and Mierin killed."

The asari in Sidonis's lap stirred. "Garrus, dear heart – please. I have offended the House of Storms and the Justicars want me dead. My own unit left me for dead and the 'strike' we were sent on was specifically to get me killed – and the Broker has a contract on me. How long do you think I will survive anywhere else? How long until they murder _Sidonis_ to hurt me and draw me out?"

Butler sighed. "Some of us already lost everything. Me and Monty were restricted in the SA – going back will get us thrown into a re-education facility or just shot for desertion. If it's a choice between dying for something and running away to live for nothing, sorry, but fuck you, ain't leaving."

Garrus ground his fangs. "Don't you see? This is fucking pointless. We've broken them but they haven't given up. They're going to keep hounding us, and eventually we'll have to choose between taking them down and killing a lot of innocent people to do so, or being surrounded and destroyed." He exhaled. "I... you are all my friends. I've already lost one group of friends trying to fix what couldn't be fixed. I don't want to lose another."

Sensat snorted. "I'm fine with going. But..." He smiled, his four eyes gleaming. "...I don't have much problem with staying either. I am a worse batarian than you are a turian. With the Hegemony destroyed, I doubt any of my family survived – and if they did, I'd probably kill them myself. Rebuilding anywhere but Omega is almost impossible for me."

He idly adjusted the field on his impact maul. "And I, for one, do not think we have lost this. We have turned this warehouse into a fortress. If we can break the gangs here, it's over. Their image will shatter and Aria will mop the rest of them up to finally have complete control. We can win."

Garrus opened his mouth to speak when Melenis came into the room, a conflicted, angry expression on her face. She exhaled, closing her eyes, then snapped them open and turned to Angel. "I need a fucking gun."

Angel blinked. "...What?"

Melenis's jaw tightened. "I heard your discussion as I was walking up. We are not running. People need us. People who don't have anyone to protect them. This is fucking Omega!" She faced Garrus. "You think once we've fled and you are dead it won't sink right back into the black ocean hell it was before you started? You think those who cringed and submitted before will suddenly stand up for themselves? You think Aria will change?"

She took a step forward. "You're upset because you fucked up. Get the fuck over it. I gave up violence because I used to be a merc, and because I made a bad call, I got five hundred seventy four people killed. Because I thought violence solved everything."

She took a deep breath. "Today I figured out something else. Sometimes the only goddess-damned answer is violence, however much I hate that. Running isn't an option. We'll either be killed or give into despair and end up worse than dead. We fight. And I'm willing to do it as well. I won't let them take me alive, and neither will anyone else here!"

Vortash, silent until now, gave a sardonic clap. "Finally. The asari finds her spine. But is this mere talk or hard truth, I wonder?" He pulled out his pistol and tossed it in her direction.

Melenis caught it and with swift action disengaged the safety and flipped it to auto-fire mode before pointing it right at the batarian's face. "I don't know. I'll probably hesitate the first time I have to kill someone again. But what I won't do is let my vow cost people their lives, because that's what would happen if I stuck to it."

Vortash gave her a grin, tilting his head to the left. "Keep the pistol. I have more." He turned to Garrus. "I, for one, will not run. My blood is old and I am not some gutter-shifting savage. I would rather die than admit I am over-matched – and it will take more than three bands of morons painting themselves in primary colors to scare me."

Garrus was still staring at Melenis, who was meeting his stare with an even, calm expression. A second later, Sidonis broke into a cackling laugh. "So, now that Melenis has decided to get in on the Punisher action, what's next?"

Angel sighed. "I wish I had never _mentioned_ that damned comic book. Turians."

Garrus's eyes finally flicked away from Melenis. His voice, when he spoke, was soft. "Why are you doing this?"

Melenis' voice was just as quiet, but firm. "I was there when you saved that small turian girl from the meat-catchers. She asked you if you were a spirit, and you said no, you were just a person. Remember? What you said?"

Angel smiled, dark eyes lighting up. Vortash chuckled. Mierin gave a savage nod. Sensat tilted his head to the left.

Garrus looked away. "...that all it took was one flicker of light to push back darkness."

Melenis clipped the pistol to her belt. "I take my vow seriously. But I know what we are doing – what we have done on Omega – is more important than my vow, or my ethics. It's more important than Angel's old regrets, or Butler's worry about his family back home, or Sidonis feeling he is a failure to his family. It is more important than any of our individual needs – because there are people who look to us to be _that one light_."

Garrus flicked a mandible. "And if I make a bad call again?"

Angel's voice was firm. "Garrus, no one regrets what happened today more than I do. But you made the call – and I agreed with it. Montague's plan would have left us exposed to counter-fire. More importantly – there's no goddamned book out here. We've slaughtered them for months, killed thousands of the vile assholes – and this is the first time we – WE – made any mistake that got an innocent killed. Before you came along, I was having to balance the good of saving people with the risk of detection and letting people DIE every damned day. Because I was scared to die."

Angel stood. "I didn't come to Omega to live. I came to die like a damned marine. Standing. On my motherfucking feet, screaming at the bastards who ruined my life, the lives of so many others, to come and fucking take me if they could. That is the opportunity you gave me, after I lost my courage for so many years. And that is what I'm going to do, by God and Victor. I'm just an angel. You're the Archangel."

He looked at Melenis, and then back at Garrus. "You want us to live? It's up to you to get us through this alive."

Garrus' shoulders slumped slightly. Vortash stood. "Come. Let us see how Weaver plans to kill us all with whatever he is cooking for dinner today."

Sensat grumbled. "What I wouldn't give for a trek-pa cutlet or three. Or pgash. Or some decent b'rath peppers."

Mierin slipped out of Sidonis' lap and pulled him up after. "C'mon, lover boy." They followed the rest out, leaving only Garrus and Melenis.

He looked up at her. "...why?"

She shrugged. "I'm tired of hurting. And... I had my eyes opened." She met his gaze as squarely as she could. "I'll kill myself, if it comes to that, at the end. I would never ask you to do that."

He flinched, and she walked away, stopping to pause at the doorway. "...as for the rest... I can't be anything you don't want me to be." She left, the door shutting behind her, and Garrus closed his eyes.

He wondered what Tel would think. He could see her in his mind's eyes, folding her arms, giving him her trademark smirking glare.

_You already know what I'd say, Garrus. I told you to find a nice turian girl, but she'll do. Stop running from your past._

He opened his eyes. "I don't know if I can … risk that pain again."

_When did you become a tide-fleeing coward? What did Sara used to say? Pain lets you know you're alive._

He gave a sad smile. "I must be crazy, having conversations in my head." He sighed, the dim light coming from the wall lamps casting long shadows into the room.

**O-TWCD-O**

Sparatus sighed as Tevos continued to bicker with Valern, but inside he was laughing his plates off.

The complete collapse of the volus attempt at restructuring the debt load of the Hierarchy failing due to, of all things, quarian investment, had created a great deal of extranet commentary and some pointedly hostile comments from Primarch Fedorian. The Hierarchy had, in a move that had shocked many, formally broken their relationship with the Volus – releasing them from their status as a client race, withdrawing all military support, and applying the normal rules to volus businesses rather than the relaxed ones that were used by a client race.

This disruption had caused even more economic upheaval in the Hierarchy, of course – but it had resulted in the asari having to scramble to shore things up. The humans, of course, had originally done nothing supportive, but the quarians were doing their best to invest and work with the Hierarchy, and their tight relationship with the humans had drawn in the Corporate Court of Sol to invest.

That, in turn, had reluctantly drawn in the asari on their side. It was all Sparatus could do not to grin ear to ear. For the first time in over a century, the Hierarchy had firm plans and targets to leverage itself out of debt.

Poor Valern was, to put it lightly, upset. Tevos was also unhappy - mostly, Sparatus suspected, because the asari could no longer gain much from their manipulation of the volus, and the quarians didn't trust them. He'd caught Udina and Thin'Koris having a drinking game over how many times they could make the normally unflappable and calm Tevos curse or Valern ball his fists up.

The only fly in the ointment, actually, was the news from the Traverse. With a sigh – he _so_ hated to break up a truly good insult fight between Tevos and Valern – he cleared his throat. "Councilors. The issues behind the recent economic shifts are something better handled, I feel, by the members of the Subcommittee of Commerce. I will not say that I am displeased by events, but I do freely admit things might have been handled... _better_ in some aspects."

Tevos narrowed her eyes. "The disruption this has caused is leading to a great deal of ill will."

Sparatus folded his arms. "Then, perhaps, someone should have considered the ramifications of suggesting certain actions to certain parties. I have warned this council before that there is only so much blatant provocation the Hierarchy will accept without acting, and as the saying goes, honor accrues only to those who display it."

He adjusted the fall of his robes. "That is beside the point, however. Aria is once again colonizing new worlds in the Terminus systems – six newly found garden worlds, and a dozen mining worlds. Her fleet is now larger than the elcor or human fleets and her people captured and are retrofitting a geth dreadnought. Spirits only knows what kind of technology she's acquired from such a thing. The chaos in the Traverse continues, with Doctor Okeer defeated in single combat by the Butcher and not a single trace of her location to be found."

He glanced at the cameras. "And the loss of the colony at Freedom's Progress has raised other, more serious issues."

He stood straight. "With the geth threat almost broken, it is time to consider serious action in the Traverse. We have deferred until now because of a fear that Aria would unite forces with the Hegemony. That threat has already been realized in some degree. And with the Butcher having crushed the Umlor Ring, other pirate groups may rally to her protection and rule in order to avoid a similar fate."

He wrapped his talons around his podium. "We should not wait until Aria grows too strong to oppose to do so. Killing a vakar cub is a lot easier than killing one that is fully grown after all, as the saying goes."

Valern's usual deadpan delivery held a sour note. "Your summation ignores the fact that most of the Citadel Fleets are still in refit from damage taken in the Geth War."

Sparatus grimaced. "Yes, this is true. It is also true that only a small minority of the asari and salarian fleets took part in those battles. The humans, quarians and my own people led those assaults. I think it only fair that your own more powerful fleets lead any action in the Traverse."

Thin'Koris sighed. "I would ask why we wish to antagonize Aria. She is, whether we like it or not, a galactic power. Open war only leaves us open to the threat of a geth resurgence."

Udina's eyes narrowed, as he considered Sparatus' words. "With the geth fleet so reduced and the destruction of the hubs at Haestrom and Hate's Point, there have been more than a few calls for a sharp reduction in military spending and investment. War with Aria would require an even larger dedication of GDP to such a thing."

Tevos shook her head. "We cannot afford such a large increase in spending."

Sparatus ground his heel into the decking. "I say we _cannot_ afford not to continue such. This Council knows of what I speak of." He gave another glance at the cameras and the watching crowds. "There are other threats to consider."

Valern gave a sigh. "With all due respect, that issue has been addressed. The sensor coverage has found no extant threat."

Sparatus actually stared at the salarian for several seconds. "No extant threat? Oh, yes. The sensor net. The alleged device that none of us have ever seen, located in a system we are unable to find, providing – " he paused, using air quotes, "so-called '_unimpeachable_' evidence of nothing happening. I have dismissed that claim. That threat follows no known rules , as we discovered to our sorrow."

Tevos tilted her head. "In what way?"

He tapped his omni-tool, sending her a one word reply: _Feros_.

She grimaced. "That may be true, but the intelligence we've received gives us little reason to doubt it. I understand that the Palavanus advisors to the Primarch feel this is a severe threat...but we are still recovering from the Geth War. A few years to rebuild – and let the fallout from this economic stunt settle – is not a mortal danger. And lowering taxes to allow business and commerce to flourish is a good respite."

She spread her hands in a gesture of siari frustrated. "As for the threat of Aria, I agree she must be dealt with. She will not be reasonable with the Council, Thin'Koris – we have tried in ages past, and her own grudges forbid any accommodation. Her power base is opposed to what we stand for and even if she wanted to interact in a more productive fashion, her hands are tied by the demands of her followers. We cannot allow a criminal organization to simply rule a fourth of the known galaxy and negotiations have … not worked well.."

Udina gave a chuckle. "You did let the Hegemony exist." He inclined his head to Sparatus. "I believe the point the turian councilor raises is rather valid – to a degree. My own government is not inclined to simply listen to intelligence of unknown provenance, but they have been doing their own investigations, and their conclusion is the larger threat is … not imminent." He sighed. "I do question depending so much on a single source of intelligence, but until certain projects are completed to verify such things we must wait."

He raised his chin. "Our lack of extant threats is not a reprieve, and the fact we have beaten the geth thus far does not mean allowing Aria to grow stronger is any less dangerous than allowing the geth to recover. Might I also point out that with the geth weakened there is very little from stopping Aria - or other bad actors - to infest the Perseus Veil? Digging them out of that mess would cost many more lives than acting now."

Thin'Koris shook his helmeted head. "I must disagree. While I understand Sparatus' point, finishing the geth once and for all strikes me as a better way to defuse the threat. And while Aria is disagreeable, we cannot risk the mostly undamaged salarian and asari fleets in such a way while our own are ravaged. Better that we refit and repair slowly, and let things stabilize. No matter how strong Aria gets, she cannot defeat or even hold off all of us."

Udina sighed. "Why is it that every word that comes out of your voder is 'geth geth geth'? We know the geth are a threat, they assaulted all of us. But I cannot go along with your statement that a broken and spent force is somehow more of a threat than Aria!"

Thin'Koris folded his arms. "Because Aria is a known threat. Aria, I might point out, has not expanded against the Council. She and her people prey on the weak and commit crimes and enable horror … but the Council has to consider larger issues. If Aria is engaged in expansion she is not engaged in war with us. She can be … negotiated with, if not by the asari then perhaps by the quarian people, who HAVE dealt with her."

The quarian sighed. "I don't simply take this stance to be _objectionary_. The Quarian people cannot afford the risk of a war with Aria since our newly settled planets and still fragile and damaged fleets are RIGHT in the path of any such war - and you will forgive us for being nervous that we will be protected. So, no. Let Aria do what she will. The geth are … a DIRECT extension of the larger threat - this is a known fact. Eliminating them will give the Council the same option - to settle the Perseus Veil, perhaps even allow my people to reclaim some of our old colonies."

He chuckled. "Besides, there is no surety that the Archangel won't decide to kill Aria next, neatly solving the problem."

Sparatus sighed. "Such spirited talon-gazing. I would point out this decision strikes me as both shorted sighted and militarily unwise."

Tevos gave a faint smile. "Perhaps. But economics have driven us to this point… so I must remind you that we can only work with the tools we have."

He snorted. "I suppose putting such a resolution to a vote is pointless then."

Tevos gave an insincere smile. "I will heed your words, Sparatus, and certainly, there are those of the Thirty who would no doubt agree with you. We are not ignoring Aria, but _colonizing_ is a less hostile act than open war or assaults on Council wars."

She folded her arms. "This does, however, bring up another concern in the Terminus : the Butcher. Her most recent act is highly concerning. While no one will claim Doctor Okeer's survival after the Broker claimed to have killed him was unwelcome, I am aware there were still many questions about his acts, both in regards to Saren and later on. He had not answered such to our satisfaction - and now, we'll never know the truth."

Udina grimaced. "The truth? _Really_? We already know the truth. The doctor was clearly involved in the sort of things Saren and Benezia were in – have you suddenly forgotten Lenal? I dislike the idea of masked vigilantes running about and putting entire worlds to the torch for being involved with slavery... but you will forgive me if I shed no tears for Okeer."

Valern's voice was somewhat sharp. "STG has admitted Okeer was probably involved on some level with Saren. Need I point out that so was Cerberus, which later turned out to have at least a tangential connection to several important aspects of human businesses and a political party? Okeer has always been highly controversial - and on occasion, arrested. But that does not justify someone executing him for no given reason. If the Butcher discovered evidence of crimes he committed,then he should have been brought to justice."

Udina shrugged. "One could … suggest that your statements leave the Council open to a certain level of political risk. We have no clue what Okeer was actually up to. One could also argue it was hardly 'execution' - the Butcher fought him one on one. Ultimately, we are guessing at motive. The Butcher only communicates through videos – we should perhaps wait to see her rationale for the attack _before_ suggesting reasons for said attack?"

Sparatus squared his shoulders. "Warmaster Okeer was the last recognized official of the Krogan Empire, and let us not forget his part in enacting the Genophage. He has committed - or was accused of committing - other, darker acts. But in my mind, anyone willing to sacrifice his own people for the good of galactic stability should be given the benefit of the doubt. The Butcher, on the other hand, despite killing off criminals en masse, remains of concern due to her possible sponsors and the... information she provided. Why are we even discussing this?"

Tevos frowned. "Because, despite the fact that some people approve of her, Okeer was a Citadel citizen, and still deeply honored."

Udina snorted. "This is an _outrage_. I will admit the krogan was more palatable than most of his kind, but have we already forgotten what he was involved in? Of the outcomes of his experiments? Doctor Thanoptis has already told us some of what he was up to. I have no problems with reining the butcher in, but over this? The man's a criminal and we're better off with him dead."

Tevos sighed. "Regardless of what you think, he was a long-time friend of the Justicar Mistress – do you think she would openly consort with a _criminal_ for centuries? His grand-nephews are the bodyguards of Queen Thana. And alienating him was not a good option, given his suspected ties to P."

She gave a small sigh. "Before, our interest in the Butcher was mere concern. Now we must ask; do we formally turn the might of the Spectre Corps against her?"

Thin'Koris shook his head. "Antagonizing a figure that may or may not be hostile to us seems _unwise_."

Valern shrugged. "Yet, the fact remains: she is in violation of Citadel law. She has taken actions that violate the Citadel Accords. It was argued before that she had not killed anyone besides slavers – that is no longer the case. I, for one, suggest a vote that she be called upon to surrender herself and her forces to the Citadel authorities immediately or face punishment."

Udina raised both eyebrows. "Given her chosen role model, 'unwise' is not the word I would choose. 'Blatantly stupid', perhaps." He glanced at Tevos. "She's an asari – why not let the Justicars handle this?"

Tevos grimaced. "They have suggested we invite her to join the Order."

Udina smothered his laughter with a cough. "I truly regret Shepard is no longer with us. She would derive no end of amusement from this mess."

Surprisingly, Tevos' expression flickered to one of sadness. "...while I did not always agree with her, I tend to agree. The Butcher is hardly a fitting memorial to her, though – Sara Shepard was more than mindless vengeance."

Sparatus shrugged. "If you want to send the Spectre Corps after her formally, I have no objection."

Valern nodded. Udina shrugged. "I disagree."

Thin'Koris was silent for several seconds before also shrugging. "I have no real opinion either way. However, given we don't know if she will suddenly become hostile, I am not opposed."

Tevos smiled. "Then, by four to one, the measure passes. Have the Senior Spectre report to us at the end of this meeting. Is there further business we must discuss? I am fatigued."

Sparatus had no idea how she could be tired, given she spent the majority of the day on her back, but held his words to himself. The fact that the Council claimed to miss Shepard and yet trusted the Broker's blandishments that the Reapers were no immediate threat grated on him, but a public session was no place to argue the issue.

**O-TWCD-O**

Aria smirked as she entered the highest room of Afterlife, sealed behind a pair of security doors. "Good evening, matriarch. How's the back?"

Aethyta turned her lift chair in place, away from the wide panel of armaglass overlooking the entirety of the Black Promenade. "That shit wasn't clever the first time you said it, girl."

With exaggerated slowness, Aria reclined on one of leather couches in the room. "Ah. You must forgive me. I find that indulging in pettiness from time to time soothes my nerves. Bray tells me you did not eat this morning. Dieting or being stupid?"

The older asari gave a tired, almost weak sigh. "Neither. Just... worried. My daughter has shattered the Broker's power on Ilium. Let her go. _Please_. She's not... involved in tide-swirled mess that turned you into what you are now. She's hurting and breaking."

Aria was silent for several seconds, face a mask, before leaning back a bit more "There is a certain wisdom in taking care of a good tool. But when a tool becomes less than useful, such maintenance is often unneeded." Her lips slowly formed a smile. "There is also a certain irony in watching _you_, of all people, plead to me for the life of your child."

Her gaze met that of Aethyta. "Did you _forget_ who lead that assault team on the facility, oh Black Blade? You were Thana's puppet back then, her iron fist smashing whatever she pointed you at."

She gave an almost vile smirk. "I always wondered why you would work for Thana. Everyone knew you and Benezia were an item … when she left you for that turian from the Palavanus, I was only a child. Were you doing it because you were crying over Benezia leaving you, I wonder? Or did you just act because the House of Storms valued you more than your own _sister_?"

The smirk grew mocking. "Then again... later on she ended up with Saren, another turian - maybe you just didn't _satisfy_ her."

Aethyta closed her eyes. "Aria. I don't blame my actions on Nezzy. I was a fool. What happened that day I have... regretted for a long time."

Aria snorted. "Oh, dear. _**Regret**_. Well, that makes everything just fine." She stood, walking over to the small bar set into the side of the lounge, pouring herself a glass of batarian ale.

She half-turned. "Regret. How like you." She lifted the drink, sipping, then set it back down. "Do you even _remember_ what I was like back then?"

Aethyta swallowed. "Yes. The second coming of Uressa. Kind. Gentle. Loving. Thana hated it. She said you made the House look weak."

Aria nodded slowly. "And that is why I ended up in that program. To boost biotic power, even if it cost a few lives. To harden me, open my eyes to – how did she put it? Ah, it comes back now, the realities of the galaxy. Those of the Thirty that were there would be the beneficiaries...the clanless there were all orphans, and no matter what dear mother claimed, I knew even then they would be test subjects. Sacrifices."

She drank again, her hand shaking. "I _hated_ that. _Hated_ how she used everyone. How the asari were nothing but a sick joke, the punchline of a dead alien bitch. No wonder Trellani lost her fucking mind when she found out."

Aethyta looked back up. "Aria, I – "

Aria held up a hand. "Be silent. I want you to _remember_. In detail. Of how sixteen of the clanless in the program died from those experiments. Of how Jona Sederis was the commando leader, teaching us the ways to fight that my mother found 'ungraceful and undignified'. How Urdnot Wrex was the only one of the guards brave enough to speak to me. How it was always the best of the Thirty – me – against the best of the clanless. Liselle."

Aethyta sighed, sagging in her chair. She had not thought about Liselle in a very long time. "...I remember."

Aria nodded coldly. "Oh, you do? You _remember_ that thanks to mother's tampering with our biotic power, what should have been two young idiots fumbling about ended up with Liselle pregnant. A purebred child – from a clanless, and the highest of the Thirty."

Aria's face twisted into a mocking sneer. "Oh, the _dishonor_. The _shame_. My mother, may be she burned alive by Trellani herself, ORDERED me to have the child aborted. And when I refused, you know what happened next."

She walked over in front of Aethyta, and forcefully lifted her chin to stare into her eyes, her entire body beginning to shine with a faint biotic aura. "You lead your damned blades into that little facility of children. You slaughtered everyone who would know, and pinned the deaths on that Devir pure-blood, saying she was a fucking ardat-yakshi, and on Jona."

She snarled. "You damn near killed Jona, and I'm still convinced that head blow you gave her is what drove her fucking insane. You nearly killed Wrex with your fucking warp fire, remember? Couldn't have any _witnesses_!"

She backhanded Aethyta with all her might, knocking her to the ground, the lift chair falling, the older matriarch sprawled on the ground. "And then you shoved your goddess damned warp sword into Liselle – _into her stomach, into MY CHILD_, when I **begged** on my **knees** for you to spare her, that I would surrender, anything my mother wanted if you would just let her _live_."

Eyes blazing with rage, she lifted Aethyta up by the throat, tears leaking from her eyes, her voice thick with emotion. "And then, of course, you said I was an _embarrassment_ to the Thirty, _remember_? That actions had _consequences_? Of course you **remember**."

She flung the Vasir away, watching as she hit the far wall and collapsed. "Regret. Fuck you and your _regrets_. I lost everything, and so did Jona and Wrex. Chased and hounded and lied about. Jona tried to get help for her issues and was nearly killed by mother's hounds that call themselves Justicars. Thana set up Wrex and I to kill each other on that station and when it failed sent fucking Nightwind after us both."

Aethyta shook her head, and Aria walked closer. "And of course, we all know Benezia went bad and almost fucking killed us all due to your _weakness_. I suppose you _regret_ that too, huh?" She spat on the older asari.

"I already let you beg for the life of your daughter, and spared, her, even though you didn't do the same for me. And I have known all along that her mission was going to destroy her – destroy everything she was. Ilium, in its own lovely fashion, is worse than Omega. Omega admits what it is. Omega is that which it must be, that which it was forced to be. Ilium is the way it is out of self indulgent entertainment."

She walked over to stand over Aethyta, and then knelt next to her. "I find it delicious that your little pure-bred bitch is going to suffer. She's going to _break_, you old bitch. She's going to fucking come apart and lose her mind and I'm going to watch _every single second_ of it, and laugh."

Aethyta managed to lever herself up. "...making you no better than me. Or Thana. Is that what you want... Aleena?"

The asari woman looked at her a long moment, before flicking her hand. Blue radiance enfolded Aethyta and her lift chair, the latter being positioned in its normal orientation, and Aethyta dropped into it none too gently. "Aleena is dead. Mercy, love, and kindness are words I now connect to betrayal, hypocrisy and grief. Wrex doesn't trust me. Jona can't decide if she cares about me or hates me and is so crazy she can't remember half of what we did. I can't even ACKNOWLEDGE the one child I have without her being a target for my mother's crazy Nightwind skanks to kill."

She let her biotics die. "I'm _worse_ than you or your fucking Queen will ever be, because I _choose_ to be. Because I will never let you and yours hurt me again, and I will hurt you over and over." She narrowed her eyes. "Regret. You'll regret when what was done to me is done to Liara. When she cries out asking why she is alone. When she slowly loses her faith in everything."

She turned away. "It's already happening. She and little Tel just blew up an entire restaurant trying to get at what turned out to be a body double of Tazzik, and in the aftermath killed a lot more innocent people. They don't even care. So, no. I will not remove her from Ilium. She's my sword, just like you were Thana's."

Aethyta's hands made fists. "Aria. Don't... do this. Why make her suffer for MY mistake? Why make her pay for my stupidity! She's lost enough, damn you. She's like you!"

Aria turned back to face Aethyta. "Because Omega does not feel sorrow or regrets. I have told you before. It has no heart. It is where the Light comes to die, where darkness is the only way. Your daughter got to live a life. She got a chance to love, to experience what it was like to be loved. I lost everything... my first daughter only got to experience your warp sword, my second can't even admit I'm her mother. My life is an empty exercise in survival and hate and bitterness that if I let go of for an _instant_ will only result in my destruction."

Aria found her smile once more. "But most of all? The honest answer, old bitch, is that I'm my mother's daughter, and I'm doing it because I can. Next time Bray brings you something to eat, I recommend eating it. I'm not beyond making Liara watch me skin you alive to finish breaking her – her use is mostly expended, and the Council is too weak to attack me now."

She left, the doors sliding shut behind her with heavy booms, and Aethyta sat in her lift chair, alone and silent, the only sound the muted hints of the music far below.

**O-TWCD-O**

Mordin Solus blinked at the dry, smog-laden air of Therum before tapping his omni-tool and engaging his facial mask with a sigh. The mask filtered the worst of the pungent stink of fuel accelerators and sulfur, but did nothing to protect his eyes.

"Never think to bring goggles when needed. Oversight? Or prudent. Goggles probably useless."

Picking up his carry-pak, he began walking away from the landing pad of the small and obscure STG facility on the planet.

Given that Therum was an Alliance colony, the fact the STG openly maintained a presence there was surprising to most. The base was there as a rather cynical liaison station between the STG and the AIS, given the colony's location at the tip of where human and salarian space met.

Containing only an uplink, some landing and fueling facilities, and comms equipment manned by a pair of low-ranking agents, it was mostly used to route secure intelligence from deep within Alliance space out towards the more elaborate STG base in Knues.

The AIS probably tapped into such comms whenever they could break the encryption. As such, the base didn't even have living quarters for visitors.

Not that Mordin would have used such in the first place. He was interested and excited about the chance to learn more about Collectors and possibly Cerberus, and intensely worried about the Reaper threat. But the STG Master's roughhouse handling and forcing him into compliance had stirred his anger.

It didn't help that when he got a _real_ communication from his sister, it was more of the same cant as usual. Mordin had long ago decided the sick game of power and dominance between the SIX and the Thirty could have no winner but billions upon billions of losers, and the less he contributed to it, the better off he was as a person. His sister had tried to argue that Mordin should simply return home – the 'proper place' as it were, for an older salarian.

Her arguments this time had truly infuriated him, however, when she had said he had a duty to come home and work on the Alteration Framework. That nightmare project was the main reason he'd lost all faith in his people and branded himself with the Lythari mark years ago.

The continuous shadow war between asari and salarians had resulted in many atrocities, but Mordin would not experiment on his own people to enhance the power of the SIX. They had killed off hundreds of thousands of salarians, and the fact that it was run by Anoleis was further proof it was completely immoral.

The code of ethics the humans attached to medical doctors attracted him strongly. He would not violate that, not even for his sister. And when she finally understood this, she had hurled hatred at him. Cursed him. Told him to never return.

He loved his sister. He had fond memories of her angry spirit, her refusal to be simply a breeder. He wondered where the bright little child who used to go with him to hunt down frogs and paint them with river mud or watch in fascination as their father experimented with chemicals in the lab had gone. Muvai was, in his opinion, in the thrall of that strange, dangerous asari of the Steelwatch, Thessial, and losing herself in darkness.

He hated turning his back on his own blood, his own family. Such was almost _unthinkable_. But Mordin prided himself on his objectivity. He could not stand by his convictions only to violate them out of love or blood ties. And he had given his contributions already.

The only upside to the entire sad mess was that he would find no difficulty in pretending to be angry with the STG or his sister.

He glanced around the terrain as he walked towards the silver tower that was the world's only hotel, a half-converted arcology construction compromised by rows of tall windows that ruined any stability and support it had once possessed.

Given that Therum had been savaged by the turians during the Relay 314 incident, and the majority of the mining operations were destroyed, the rebuilding of the colony into a mining concern once more was impressive. Still, the place was a smoky, hot, and unpleasant hellhole, inhabited by those humans too stupid to work in HE3 mining and too weak to be criminals.

Orbital bombardments had cracked open volcanic calderas and triggered devastating lavaslides. The atmosphere, tainted by volcanic activity and heavy mining, was not even safe to breathe by vorcha. Yet money had run out to finish the arcology over Therum's capital, so the half-done skeletal structure loomed over the town, augmented by jury rigged atmoshields and other contrivances.

Humanity seemed to have a bad habit of turning its worlds into polluted messes. "Conjectural connection: perhaps homesick for conditions on Earth. Possible. Must remember to research."

Being here was not something he enjoyed. It was never a good sign when a planet had stores devoted to selling breathable air, and as rule, he preferred not to visit worlds where the word 'lavaslide' was ever used in conversation.

But the STG shuttle he'd arrived on would attract far too much attention as it went further into the Traverse. Best to engage another trip on a bulk hauler or merchant ship. The STG Master seemed confident that he would be intercepted by Cerberus here.

The master was less sure that Cerberus actually wanted to recruit him. After all, if Cerberus was in league with the Collectors, then killing him and silencing his knowledge on the Collectors was hardly outside the realm of possibility. Even if they weren't, Cerberus might be looking to take sole credit for defeating the Collectors –eliminating him would remove any questions he might raise about such a defeat.

It did not help that his remote omni-drones scouting ahead towards the hotel had picked up a pair of figures in stylish black suits and long ballistic coats. The shorter of the two wore wrap-around sunglasses and carried a dog-headed cane, the larger man held a small valise and had deactivated his omni-probe about three seconds after it got into visual range.

Mordin was hardly dismissive of his own combat abilities, but fighting the Odd Couple – even if they were not wearing battle armor – wasn't a task he expected to survive. If they were hostile, there was little he could do.

He could head straight for the spaceport and leave, of course. Defy the STG master. Go back to the depths of Omega, or even deeper into the Terminus Systems. But he was old, and tired, and his many mistakes weighed on his mind and his will.

If the Odd Couple was here for his life, they could have it. It wouldn't be cheap, though. With a final glance around the darkened skies, he walked up the main tramway, sidestepping the occasional surly looking mounds of muscle on their way to their work sites.

The hotel itself, built into the side of the arcology framework, loomed above him. The lowest floor was an expanse of omni-field porticoes and armaglass around outside eating faculties and a handful of small restaurants. The two assassins sat at one such area, quietly bickering over something while eating.

They both looked up as he walked straight up to them. "Heard you were looking for me. Unusual assassination method."

Kai Leng glanced at Pel for a long second before wiping his mouth with a napkin, setting his ramen down. "Doctor Solus. You are clearly aware of who we are. Our principal wishes to consult with you on a matter of high importance. We are certainly not here to accost you."

Pel glanced over the doctor, then sighed. "Yeah. No telling what kind of bullshit you have ready for us if we tried that. Sides, I already tried to kill you eight years back."

Mordin's voice was sour. "Remember clearly. _Impressive_ use of explosives. Captain Kirrahe was upset over loss of corvette. Also appalled at use of booby-trapped egg chamber."

Pel shrugged. "...they were duds, actually. I don't kill kids. No goddamned challenge."

Mordin found that quietly amusing, but instead turned back to Kai Leng. "Shadowed me on Omega, followed me to salarian space. Unexpected interest in me – Cerberus not known for collaboration with aliens, Trellani aside."

Leng grimaced. "...the organization has undergone many changes."

The doctor nodded. "Yes. Rumors of connection to Butcher, Archangel, Sisters of Vengeance. Still no hanar."

Pel smothered a snicker. Kai merely tapped the credit payment slot with his chit and slowly stood. "We have suitable transportation, and as I said, this is merely a consult. If you dislike the offer our principal has for you, we will be happy to convey you back to Omega."

Mordin pursed his lips for only a second, then his face split into a grin. "Very well then humans, take me to your leader."

Pel burst out laughing, and Kai merely sighed and gripped his cane tightly. "...the organization _already_ has a problem with bad puns, doctor. Please do not aggravate the situation. Follow us."

Mordin turned to do so, when his omni-tool bleeped again, with an alert from his other omni-drone. Frowning he tapped it.

Three asari in black armor emerged from the spaceport main entrance, their leader a purple-skinned beauty with black dagger like markings along her cheeks. Solus hissed. "Problems."

Kai Leng glanced over at the hovering image above the omni-tool and sighed. "Pel. Sha'shira is here."

Pel looked up. "Oooh. Old girl still alive after the last beating we dropped on dat ass? Broker must really not like you, Doc. Or else he got wind of us being here... which is strange, given we've only been here four hours."

Mordin's mouth twitched. "Possible that departure from STG has already been discovered" _Or announced_, he thought sourly. "Unwilling to engage in dialogue with Broker representatives."

Pel coughed. "Sha'shira has no _tongue_, Doc. She ain't here to talk, if you take my meaning." He glanced at Kai. "You want me to handle this?"

Kai gave him a look of disbelieving disgust. "No, you idiot, we don't need half the city set on fire, this place is hot enough without it. You escort the doctor to the secondary meeting site until I give the all clear. I'll deal with the trash myself."

Mordin glanced over the assassin. "Without weapons?"

Kai twisted the the head of the cane, and a haptic camouflage field dropped, revealing it was actually a scabbarded sword, before he twisted it back to replace the image. "Hardly. Go."

Pel loomed over Solus. "We rented a place in case we had to wait, more defensible than this damned hotel. This shouldn't take long."

Mordin nodded, following along. "..._unexpected_ for Cerberus to protect me."

Pel shrugged. "We got bigger problems to worry about, y'know? Besides, the agents you killed back on Veras were all assholes. Saved me the trouble."

Mordin blinked, then quietly decided that perhaps the stories of the Odd Couple being psychopaths were not totally inaccurate.


	23. Arc II: Appreciation of Strengths

_**A/N**:_

_Finally got around to Grunt. Mordin and baka ninja girl are coming up soon...then Omega. Sweet lovely Omega.  
_

_Zaeed also shows up. As I have recently (by TKO) won the war of the Tupari Machines, his vengeance will come in the next chapter. _

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. They deserve more credit than I do.  
_

_And while I'm thinking about it: Go review _**Total Eclipse: An Asari Commando Novel **_by RED78910, and **The Queen, the monster and the child **by metaladdict. __  
_

* * *

_'My mother taught me three things. Never back down when you know you are right. Never let your strength lead you from using it to protect those without strength. And never bother with any thing but asari females in bed. She said the last was the most important of the rules...heh heh heh.'_

_\- Urdnot Shepard Grunt, recollections as told by Loresingers to the younglings of the clan.  
_

* * *

The meeting with Massani was quick, considering how much time had been wasted in getting to the system. His light cruiser - an older human model last used in the FCW and heavily modified - met the Normandy in an otherwise unremarkable system with no gas giants and a pair of blasted rocky worlds far too close to the B-class star to be of any use to anyone. The sheer radiation put out by the star would muck up any FTL wakes they would leave behind.

The delay in meeting had allowed both ships to escape any pursuit or tracking, and for the Firestorm to deal with their injuries. From what Shepard had gathered they'd looted a great deal of equipment from the surface, although not as much as the Blue Suns had. They'd also taken some heavy casualties, and were probably going to spend some down time refitting, resting and recruiting.

Having a PMC on hand if they needed heavy back up would be useful, but the base was not large enough to accommodate them all, not to mention any one of them could be a spy. Thus, Massani would be the only one coming into Revenant proper.

Massani departed from his cruiser in a battered shuttle, which landed neatly enough inside the hangar bay of the Normandy. Shepard slid her helmet shut before stepping out of the elevator, walking past the front end of the cargo bay to come to a stop as the shuttle's hatch opened.

Zaeed stepped down, carrying a long black duffel, and turned to the younger man with sandy blond hair who remained aboard the shuttle. "I'll be off for a while, so don't do anything too guddamned stupid. We've got contracts lined up and ready t'go , and there's cash enough to pay the men for a year or more."

The younger man nodded. "Yessir. We'll keep the fires going."

Zaeed chuckled. "Good lad. Get. I got shit to kill." He turned away without another backwards glance, walking up slowly towards Shepard in her armor. "So... Butcher. Jack says I'll be crashing with you and your gang for a spot. Says there's some things we need to discuss."

Shepard nodded. "Follow me, please." Shepard lead the mercenary into the elevator, and was silent during the short trip to the QEC conference room. Zaeed's eyes flicked left and right during the trip, but he moved in an otherwise relaxed manner.

Upon reaching the conference room, Miranda was already waiting for them. Shepard motioned him in and then stepped in herself.

Zaeed glanced at Miranda for a long moment before turning his gaze back to Shepard. "I'm here. What's the big deal?"

Miranda spoke, her tone crisp. "Mr. Massani, the Illusive Man has already laid out the very basics of our mission, has he not?"

Zaeed nodded sourly. "Some zog-off guddamned snipe hunt. Figure out why these Collectors are nipping the wildcats. Get in there, blow the fuck out of one of them, board their ship, and fly through the Omega Four relay. Bit hazy at what happens after that, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out it probably involves a big fucking bomb."

Miranda's cool expression was unmoved. "...essentially correct. The chances of survival for such a mission would normally be so low as to call them suicidal. But you have already seen first hand just what the Butcher can accomplish. We are gathering together some of the galaxy's best fast-strike combatants to aid her in the assault."

She handed him an OSD. "This has all of the relevant information and intel that you are required to know. It should answer any questions you have, although I will of course be available for other inquiries. "

Zaeed took it with a dubious look on his face. "Fair enough. What about the Butcher here? You stay sealed up in that armor all the time?"

Shepard held up a hand. "Part of the contract you signed should have said my identity was to remain a complete secret, yes?"

Zaeed nodded again. "It did. And once I'm bought, I stay bought. I won't say who you are, but I don't get why you hide yourself. You piss off some big shot member of the Thirty?"

Shepard tapped the helmet control on her collar, letting her helmet segment and fold away, revealing her features. "Not exactly."

He stared at her for several seconds before turning to Miranda. "Is this some kind of _joke_? D'you think you can just take the piss out of me?"

Miranda shook her head. "It is no joke. We have... brought her back. As hard as it might be to believe, we did so from beyond death."

Zaeed gave a laugh, shaking his head. "Sugartits, I've seen shit you wouldn't believe. Hell, I've done things you wouldn't believe. Walking away from a crashing ship, maybe someone could survive that, but I heard tales of what that turian bastard dug up. Shepard was deader than dogshit. And what got buried in the fancy ass funeral on Earth if not her?"

Miranda's eyes had narrowed at the derogatory name, but Shepard only shook her head. "Flash clone, Massani. We can talk about me later – for now, let's just say that announcing my identity would cause all kinds of shit we're not ready to deal with yet. You're the second recruit, so I'm going to ask you what I asked the first one."

She folded her arms. "You're a merc – famous even. Why take what sounds like a suicide mission for pay, no matter how much said pay is? What do you really want?"

The mercenary gave her a long look. "Before I answer that... humor me. Not sure I buy that you're who you claim to be. We fought on New Louisiana together. Had a little conversation towards the end of that fight. Remember it?"

She smirked. "Yeah. You were stupid enough to hit on me. I told you if you did it again, you'd need a seeing-eye dog."

The flicker of surprise in his eyes was almost impossible to see, but his smirk wasn't. "Hmm. Maybe it is you. You do fight crazy enough." He turned away from her, pacing the length of the room.

"You wanna know why I am here? It's a long story."

She shrugged. "I need to know."

He turned to look at her. "If you want me to wax goddamned nostalgic, I will. I started the Blue Suns. Me, a guy named Vido Santiago, and an asshole turian named Kuril."

She smiled. "I know Kuril very well."

He grunted. "I was young and stupid, so was Vido. Kuril was angry and pissed off even back then. Shot the hell out of slavers, busted up stupid fucking gangs, and made a killing. I wasn't a guddamned hero, just going after the easiest loot – but the Alliance and Hierarchy liked what we were doing."

He smiled faintly. "Even got official contracts. Big money. Everything was going good, until Kuril drifted away, caught up in his looney-arse vigilante fantasies. He wanted us to focus on stopping bad guys, I wanted the best fights, Vido just wanted cash. We expanded to take up the slack from him building that prison. I got bored, started doing crazy missions for the challenge. Vido got fucking ideas. Wanted to bring in batarians. Better killers and cheaper he said."

The mercenary spat. "Guddamned terrorists, I said. All I wanted was the fight, the killing. Listening to some dumb bastard screaming for mercy. The money wasn't even important. It was the fear, the legend I wanted."

He looked up. "Vido ended all that. Got greedy, didn't like how I wanted the legit contracts while the other PMCs did slaving, drugs and worse. Tried to turn the Suns against me, and when that didn't work, set a trap for me. Double crossed me. Shot my most loyal men, set me up, blew up my ship, put a bullet in my head and left me for dead."

Miranda's eyes widened. "You survived being shot in the head?"

The merc leered at her. "Shepard here survived being blown tah hell, and you survived having enough titty surgery to break a krogan's back." He ignored her outraged splutter to turn back to face Shepard. "_Rage_... is a hell of an anesthetic."

She nodded coolly. "So this is just about revenge?"

He shook his head. "Naw. Killing Vido is just wrapping up old business. He's a worm. He's terrified of me and too chickenshit to try and kill me in the open. Tracked him down once before, shot my way through seventy of his so-called soldiers, didn't even take a single hit. I could have walked in with a fucking steak knife and no barriers and killed the lot of the sloppy idiots."

He rubbed his chin, eyes narrow. "Bastard got away before I could kill him. This time he won't get lucky."

He straightened. "But no, not revenge. Guddamned stupid motive, that. You get it and you're still empty. I'm not getting any younger." His voice roughened. "Jessie and I have spilled enough blood to fill a lake, and I'm getting tired. Money's pointless."

He smiled faintly, almost cynically. "Killing what can't be killed though...doing the mission everyone says is impossible...that's more my speed. They said I couldn't assassinate the CEO of Korsys, but I did. They said I couldn't take down a turian cruiser all by my lonesome, but I did. They said Gravalax was a suicide mission...but I'm guddamned here."

He stabbed his thumb against his thick armor. "I'm the fucking best. And if I'm going to go out, it will be doing things no one else can. Firestorm doesn't need me anymore. It will be what the Blue Suns should have been."

She nodded slowly. "The Legend of Zaeed Massani. Huh." She shrugged. "I can handle that. Can you handle me not being dead.?"

He shrugged. "I doubt a clone would remember a conversation like that, and there's no reason anyone else would. Besides, like I said, I remember how you fight – crazy, suicidal and guddamned bloody. You haven't changed that much."

She smirked. "Then welcome aboard. When we're in the field, only address me as Butcher. And don't call my XO sexually harassing names - or any of my other female team members - or I'll use a singularity on your nuts."

She said the last in such a sweetly saccharine tone that Miranda had to bite her tongue to keep from bursting into laughter, and Massani actually took a step back. "Jesus, woman. A man can't admire beauty?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Zaeed, there's a line between 'admiration' and 'harassment'. Don't fucking cross it again. Besides, you're old enough to be her grandfather." She smirked. "If you want to flirt, though, there is an asari doctor on board. She's probably your age. Or younger."

The mercenary gave her a vile look. "Ha fucking ha." He shook his head. "You didn't drag me up here just to spill the beans that whoever killed you did it as half-ass as Vido tried with me."

She nodded. "No, I didn't. As I said, you're the second recruit. Our goal is to stop the Collectors... and prove that the Broker is working with them. Take his ass out, and when we take the Collectors out, prove the existence of a worse threat than that."

Zaeed's stern expression became baffled. "What in the guddamned hell is _worse_ than giant bugfuck things stealing people?"

Shepard grimaced, nodding to Miranda to activate the displays. "They're called Reapers."

**O-TWCD-O**

The Normandy arrived back at the base without any incident, docking and disembarking the crew. Explaining the true situation to Zaeed had set even that hardened figure into mild shock, and he agreed that the situation had to be handled. He was even willing to delay chasing after Vido – although, if they came across a clear hint of the man, he wanted him dead.

As it turned out Zaeed's skills were more than just being a powerful killer. He was not ignorant of finances, having run his own mercenary group for over a decade, and had a wide range of his own contacts in places such as Omega and the Terminus systems where Cerberus had almost no real reach. He was also excellent at training, and Miranda suggested having him provide combat training to the marines and the team would only make them all better.

Once settled into the docks, Miranda and Sedanya had Shepard report to the medical bay and did some more diagnostics, while the rest of the doctors argued over scans of the minor damage to her heart, lungs, and shoulder.

Listening to the conversation was somewhat surreal, as they pretty much ignored her as she sat on the diagnostic table while they pulled out various charts, omni-graphs and scans. Shepard didn't understand most of it, but could make out bits and pieces, and surreptitiously used her omni-tool to figure out some of the rest.

The good news was that the damage to her lungs wasn't as severe as Sedanya had worried. The armored rib spars had been damaged enough, however, that Doctor Hyrim and Doctor Kyursko had both argued for doing extensive repair work, probably replacing at least three of them.

The bad news was the armor-mesh that protected Shepard's heart had been driven into the outer wall of her heart, and if they were going to fix anything it needed to be that and soon.

Shepard listened in mortification as they discussed her as little more than a robot, talking about 'shutdown schedules' and maintenance procedures, downtime and 'repair optimization'.

The damage to her shoulder, while patched up in part, still lingered, and Hyrim declared the cybernetic arm needed a full re calibration. Without bothering to explain, Kyursko had gestured Shepard over to the private medical area and told her to take off her loose-fitting shirt.

"Excuse me?" Shepard eyed the woman skeptically.

The busty Russian doctor half-turned, her voice clearly amused. "I am sorry, but your arm is damaged. We can't repair it with it attached, love, so it has to come off."

Shepard's eyes widened. "You're cutting my goddamned arm off?"

The doctor shook her head. "No, no. It detaches. I mean, you are mostly machine now...off with the shirt."

Shepard did not particularly care for the way Kyursko's eyes traced her form as she uneasily took off her shirt, but was even more alarmed when the woman used a haptic marker to trace several lines across her shoulder.

Shepard herself spent a good few minutes watching in morbid, slightly horrified fascination as they cut away synthetic flesh around her damaged shoulder using a protolaser, and then rather roughly disconnected her entire arm to work on the shoulder connection assembly. She awkwardly managed to pull her shirt over her chest and sat propped up in the medical bed, swallowing a bit at the ramifications.

She was still doing so, finding herself in a bit of shock at how easily she was taken apart, when Miranda came in.

"Shepard... are you alright?"

Shepard gave a thin smile. "Yeah. Just... that was a bit sudden. Listening to Kyursko and the rest arguing about if they need to 'shut me off' and cut open my chest to repair things...is a bit hard to take." She sighed. "And she sort of walked off with my arm... can't put my shirt back on right."

The Cerberus officer sighed, crossing the room to help Shepard pull her shirt back on, and then sat across from Shepard in the single leather chair. "I know that. I apologize for their … lack of tact. Particularly Doctors Kyursko and Hyrim." She leaned forward. "I... I tried my very best to make this process as painless as possible. I know the truth of it all, shoved in your face, doesn't help you deal with what you have already suffered. And I'm sorry if it comes off as a bit inhumane at times. So much of what we did is beyond medical knowledge..."

Shepard rubbed her face with her remaining hand. "I don't want to sound like a crying child, Miranda. Or an ungrateful, whiny bitch. It just threw me a bit."

Miranda smiled faintly. "You are not." She tapped her omni. "Doctor Chambers. Shepard is currently in medical. The... doctors decided to talk openly about what might be needed in terms of maintaining Shepard's health, and your number one fan just disconnected Shepard's cybernetic arm and walked off with it."

Chamber's voice was sharp with anger. "Goddamned idiots! I fucking swear, it isn't bad enough we get her whole life ruined and shove her in a situation like this, but that pack of war-criminals just acts like... ugh. I'll deal with it. Remind me why TIM didn't go with my recommendation, download their shit into gray boxes and execute the lot of them?"

Miranda chuckled. "It was seen as a waste of potential resources."

Chamber's voice was low and hard. "Just stay with her, if you can, Lawson. God knows this isn't going to make her trust the medical staff any more, and you're the only one who screamed at TIM for being a dick about this so far – maybe you can calm her down, I wouldn't be fucking calm. Chambers out."

Miranda winced at the last statement, but Shepard arched an eyebrow. "...I'm guessing I was not supposed to hear that?" She shrugged, then sighed as the loss of her arm made her tilt.

Miranda shrugged, then stood. She shrugged out of her jacket and gently placed it around Shepard's shoulders, before sitting back down. "It... I have certain issues with the way some aspects of your resurrection have been handled. I haven't hidden that. Doctor Chambers also has disagreements."

Shepard pursed her lips. "Translation: you don't see me as a science experiment and the rest of the doctors do? Six-Hawks seemed worried about my eternal soul or some shit."

Miranda nodded. "Certainly, Doctor Six-Hawks has a... unique viewpoint on the situation. And Doctor Andira never saw you in such a light. But the ugly fact remains that I fear too many of the doctors got used to seeing you as... well, a cadaver. The majority of the team leads were anti-social loners who frankly could have cared less about who or what Cerberus was as long as they got to advance their own theories. Not a single one batted an eyelash when they found out they weren't working for the Alliance."

Shepard nodded slowly. "Huh." She almost shrugged, but with only one arm it felt off. "Mad scientists acting like mad scientists, shock. Then again, I was sort of a cadaver for a while. Not that I appreciate being treated like one now, but I guess I can see how you could end up feeling that way."

She laughed at herself. "Empathy from me. Death, you worthless bitch." She smiled bitterly. "It's nothing new, Miranda. I don't want to sound fucking emo, but I've gotten used to the fact that most people don't understand me. It used to make me sad and now it just makes me shrug."

Miranda sighed. "I certainly do not feel 'that way'. I may not understand you but I can at least try to treat you with _dignity_. Which is why I fought so hard to make sure you could be as comfortable as possible. To minimize the more distressing and, dare I say, inhumane aspects of all of what you are having to go through." She glanced away. "No one should have to feel like a science experiment."

Shepard leaned back a bit. "Hmm. I guess that's because you were... made? Engineered to a specific task?" She saw Miranda flinch at that and grimaced. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I just – "

Miranda held up a hand. "No. You... you are perfectly correct, Shepard. I did see... or wanted to see... parallels in this process. There is every possibility that I am letting my own background, my own issues color events. Mr. Harper seems to think that, but I do not think so. You are not a machine, Shepard, or a robot. You're a person. One who has been badly hurt, and who required a lot of medical attention – but a person."

The black-haired woman looked away. "I have had problems with how certain events were conducted – or framed – for some time. Forcing you to watch that video the first day you woke up was just the latest of them."

Shepard looked down at the floor, but found her lips smiling almost against her will. "We talked about that. I understood why he did it."

Miranda almost snarled. "The capacity to understand an act does not give it reason, or sympathy. Just because it served a purpose does not mean it couldn't have been handled another way!"

Shepard's smile blossomed fully, a very rare thing. It transformed her whole face, and she looked at Miranda almost happily. "You didn't have to care, you know. But you did. The fact that a bunch of assholes didn't care doesn't really affect me... that someone does care makes me feel a lot better. A _lot_ better."

She shrugged. "Not to cry over my own spilt milk, but I should be used to people treating me like some kind of... thing by now. I had gotten used to not feeling that way. Got used to having people care."

Miranda nodded. "And now everything that prevented you from feeling that way is gone."

Shepard shook her head. "...not everything. You do. Tali does. I guess I have to have faith I can just find more people." She paused. "It's funny. Kelly was talking in my quarters on the way here, trying to convince me that I should trust Cerberus. She was upset, almost. I figured it was just more psych bullshit."

She looked up, meeting Miranda's eyes. "But she really is pissed at them treating me like the weapon I am. She's worried. Imagine that."

Miranda swallowed. "You know that we... viewed your memories."

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. She told me."

Miranda stood suddenly, pacing. "It... I had lived my life in isolation, thinking that what I had endured – what I had been put through – was horrible. That I was well justified in being bitter about it. And then I watched that. Those... scenes. I could not view it all without being ill. I tried, but I could not."

Miranda's voice wavered, before returning to its usual firm tone. "Chambers watched all of it. I will not claim to like some of the methods Chambers uses, or her perspectives on some things. We did not agree on many things during Revenant. But the one thing we both fought for is that you had to be treated with human dignity."

A sad expression crossed Miranda's face. "You have suffered enough, I would think, already. Adding to your pain with inhuman disdain is what has drawn her anger, and mine, more than once. The doctors did not see your memories. They did not... have the sort of ugly backgrounds I had."

Shepard adjusted her position. "From what Kelly's told me, she didn't have an easy life either. A lot of losses, and no clear path."

Miranda shrugged. "Perhaps not. But nothing she or I experienced is as bad as what you did. I frankly found it difficult to understand how you persevered." She smiled sadly. "Which is why, despite me being made to be perfect, I am not. I never found a reason to push myself when everything came effortlessly. If I had been in your shoes... I don't know what I would have done."

She took a shaky breath, and Shepard smiled, this time sadly. "When Liara first saw some of it, she about broke down crying, and asked me how I had not just killed everything. I don't... like the idea of my past being seen. I'm ashamed of it. What was done to me. What was... forced onto me. And what it turned me into."

She scratched her jaw with her only hand. "It messed up my whole way of life. Every part of me is fucked up by what I went through." She traced her hand across the top of her thigh. "I never thanked you for leaving my ink and my battle scars intact but removing the... reminders of what they did to me. I can't thank you enough for that. Alliance said it would have caused me too much damage to remove them all..."

Miranda gave an angry nod. "I could not allow those... reminders... to remain. The doctors did not understand." She paused. "It was Kelly who decided you needed to retain your Tenth Street Reds tattoo... and the battle scarring. Both for your own peace of mind about not being a clone, and because they had deeper meaning to you."

Shepard nodded, and Miranda's expression softened further. "But no matter what, Shepard, please believe me when I say nothing we are doing is without awareness of the cost it has to you. And if things of this nature happen, it is because there is also the knowledge that you are the only real hope we have – that Cerberus has – of effecting any lasting change."

The woman's smile faltered. "And if I'm biased by my own history, perhaps empathy is not misplaced."

Shepard shook her head. "What I'm trying to say... what was done to me is different than what your father did to you. You were... used from the moment of your birth. In some ways what happened to you was worse than what happened to me. But the results aren't much different. I'm goddamned artificial. I don't even know what the fuck I bleed, except you somehow made it come out purple."

Miranda nodded. "A similar process to what we did with your hair. Helps with the illusion that you are asari."

Shepard huffed. "Bottom line, though – I have to accept what I am now. I have to... deal with having my arm just detached and taken off to be repaired. It just shook me."

Miranda frowned. "But there isn't any value in forcing you to endure that."

Shepard tilted her head. "You said I'm not a machine. The doctors seem to feel otherwise. I myself told Jack that – it's why I was the logical choice to fight Okeer. If I get hurt I can be fixed."

Miranda shook her head. "Maybe your physical form can be, Shepard – but as I said. You are a person. The wounds your mind takes, your... well, to borrow from Six-Hawks, your soul – isn't something we can fix so easily. God knows if I could do anything more, I would."

Shepard smiled, but before she could say anything Chambers walked into the room, eyes narrowed. "Miranda! Where is that _bitch_ Kyr – oh. Shepard. Um. Hi."

Shepard managed not to smirk, instead she only arched an eyebrow. "Problems?"

Kelly narrowed her eyes. "I just need to sort a few things out. Miranda, I've talked to Wilson. We need to do some corrective surgery on Shepard's heart, and they would like to at least check out her ribs, make sure the injuries she took fighting Okeer won't cause pain or medical problems down the line. If you could move her into the main surgical bay, and put on her general anesthesia and nerve system shutdown, I'd appreciate it."

Miranda nodded. "And her arm?"

Chambers shook her head. "Kyursko is a floozy who probably screwed her way into her doctorate – and that's coming from someone with my own past. Idiot bitch. I'll handle that tramp myself and deal with what she did."

Miranda compressed her lips but merely gave another nod. "Very well." She turned to Shepard. "We'd like to go ahead and put you under, so that we can perform the medical aspects without having to endure any additional thoughtlessness from the staff. Is that okay?"

Shepard sighed and nodded. "I didn't mean to zone and look freaked, it's just – "

Miranda shook her head firmly. "Shepard. There is nothing wrong with your reaction. The way the doctors acted was completely unprofessional."

Chambers muttered. "What do you expect from researchers anyway?" She heaved her shoulders and smiled at Shepard. "I apologize, and we'll make this right. This won't take long, I promise. Then we can go get smashed. Bring Jack and Tali." She glanced at Miranda. "And Lawson too. Did you know she sings when she's drunk?"

Shepard couldn't suppress a small laugh at that, and Miranda's archly muttered 'traitor' only made it turn into a full blown laugh. She slid off the bed, and then the door opened again, revealing the slender, nervous figure of Doctor Carla Andira. "Doctor Chambers? You said Shepard needed to be taken to the main surgical bay?"

Kelly nodded. "If you would be so kind. Please prep her for surgery and administer standard anesthesiology. Hyrim and Doctor Lawson here will scrub."

The half-Brazilian woman nodded, and smiled gently at Shepard. "Please follow me, milady."

Shepard gave a groan. "Really? I thought I was done with that shit."

Miranda smiled faintly as Andira lead Shepard away, before running her hands through her hair. "Idiots."

Chambers nodded sourly. "...I'm starting to doubt, Lawson. I really am."

Miranda frowned. "...doubt in Shepard?"

Kelly shook her head angrily as she walked to the door. "No. In fucking Cerberus. In the idea that Shepard would ever want to fucking work with us if we keep doing shit like this." She looked up angrily." It was the Illusive Man who issued an instruction to Hyrim and Kyrusko to 'treat injuries as repairs'."

Lawson's eyes widened. "What? Why?"

Chambers sighed bitterly. "More half-ass recommendations from Dunn, of course. Dehumanizing her will make her more angry, more willing to do anything to get revenge. Force her to come to terms with what she is so she'll put the memories of her wife and friends behind her." She gritted her teeth. "The self-absorbed bastard actually said Shepard had no problems getting over the loss of her NCT so this shouldn't be any different."

Miranda headed for the door herself, sighing in disgust. "That man is an asshole. I saw enough of her memories to realize that her NCT abandoning her on Torfan very nearly destroyed her."

Kelly exhaled and nodded. "Go on and get started. I'll... deal with everything else." Miranda nodded and left, and Kelly glanced around before pulling up the medical records in the system, glancing over them for several minutes before heading out of medical and up towards the communications center.

Entering the QEC comms bay, she tapped the control. "Requesting comms. Doctor Kelly Chambers. Priority Papa-Foxtrot-Alpha."

It took only a minute and a half for the image of the Illusive Man to appear. "I was just about to depart in the pinnace to head to the base, Doctor. Your code indicated a possible failure state of the project – what is it?"

Kelly folded her arms. "Your instructions to the med-staff to treat Shepard's injuries as 'repairs', sir. I thought we were going to proceed with things as planned, not throw r_andom suggestions_ into how we treat Shepard. The changes nearly threw her into a state of shock."

The Illusive Man lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly. "Kelly, I have to make my choices from a unpalatable and often somewhat risky list of options. Our operatives report Hades activity and a full scale effort at localizing our aerospace construction facility in Sentry Omega. The Council just put out officially that the Spectres are to bring in the Butcher. There's been a sharp uptick in issues on both Ilium and Omega. We can't afford for Shepard to waver at this juncture."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "I fully grasp that, sir. We just had a meeting on it. I offered my viewpoints, agreed that some of what Dunn said had value, and we – I thought – agreed on being more direct. But we haven't even had a week of downtime to work on what we discussed. And we said blunt! That is not the same as letting the medical staff treat her like a malfunctioning LOKI and haul away pieces of her body while leaving her half naked and distraught."

He tapped his ashes. "And I disagree. A more humanized Shepard is one focusing on her losses. On her pain. Based on the reports, one more concerned with why she's doing things than what she is doing. If she's angry, if she's focused on revenge, she isn't trying to poke at things she doesn't need to or thinking up reasons not to trust us."

He glanced up, his features almost set into a smirk. "But I suspected that Miss Lawson – and _yourself_ – would object to this path. I warned Miranda already about losing objectivity. We have to keep our view on the ultimate goal, not allow ourselves to be bogged down by sympathy for a situation we cannot change or repair."

He leaned back. "I am sure you and Miranda have no doubt conveyed your disapproval of my actions to Shepard. And by acting in this way, the less... viable elements of the medical team will certainly not be missed by Shepard when their usefulness is expired and it comes time to ensure they don't cause additional complications. After all, aside from Wilson, Andira, and Six-Hawks, once we have built up a good medical corpus and diagnostic dictionary, the others are rather superfluous."

Kelly forced her features to remain calm, and made her lips form a smile. "Ah. Misdirection. Might I ask the way you plan to handle any resentment this might create in Shepard towards you personally?"

He sipped his drink. "She requires such. Our last conversation enlightened me to the real issue – Shepard expects to be double-crossed, if not personally then in intent, or in spirit, or by our actions. She is going to resent me until and unless I have such an opportunity to betray her, to use her for my own ends – and I deliberately choose not to."

Kelly folded her arms. "And you plan to take advantage of that how?"

He smiled. "By manufacturing such a situation." He stubbed out the cigarette. "When the time comes, I will make the appropriate amends to her. Just keep doing what you can to make her feel comfortable, Doctor. Leave the rest to me."

He killed the signal, and stood, glass in hand, to walk over to the wide view-port set into his observation lounge. He killed his haptic screens, looking out over the ever-growing collection of docks and shipbuilding facilities erected in the asteroid belts of the system.

He sipped his drink again, unsurprised when Vigil suddenly appeared next to him. "Your ruthless nature continues to impress, Harper. A pity you were not an Inusannon, you might have even achieved low middle management."

By now, Harper was inured to the sphere's goading. The AI was a magnificent machine – with it, the machinations of the Council, the Broker, Hades – all normally lethal foes – were more akin to jokes. He instead focused on the ranked constructions being built even now by the AI's remote controlled servitors.

"How many ships have you constructed?"

The sphere pulsed. "Nineteen cruisers and seven battle-cruisers, along with fifty seven destroyers. The Ironic Gesture is almost complete as well. They will still utilize your own techbase for the most part, although I have... improved all components to maximum efficiency."

The human nodded. "Taking down the Broker will require an utmost effort if what intelligence you have obtained is correct. Assume that Shepard triumphs at Omega and is able to move on Ilium in short order – how long until we can be expected to have a mass of ships enough to break the Broker's defenses?"

The sphere hovered a bit higher. "Very soon. Between what I will be able to achieve on Omega and gaining access to the Broker's resources, I will have complete coverage of almost all areas of the galaxy except the Batarian Empire. The mercenary's networks will also be useful. Your plans will be easy to achieve, I suspect."

Harper sipped his drink again. "And your own plans, that you still haven't shared with me?"

Vigil's voice lost its usual smugness. "I have _repeatedly_ told you, organic. I will be more than happy to aid you and your cycle in the fight. Longer term – there is little to discuss. There isn't much point handing you the technology when I can literally create ships from raw components given a few weeks time – and I distrust your ability to use such in a manner that won't ruin my plans."

Harper arched an eyebrow. "I trust you grasp my... reservations."

The sphere made a faint humming sound. "The Inusannon observed over a dozen cycles of Reaper aggression. Thus far, this particular pattern does not fit the previous events, which may be due to that... thing... inside the Citadel. If so, the Reapers may only choose to attack if further aggravated – and the nature of most Inusannon technology is definitely aggravation."

The Illusive Man finished his Wild Turkey. "And destroying their observation post behind the Omega Four relay is not?"

Vigil pulsed. "That remains to be seen. Letting them run free is not going to assist you in your own goals, so it ultimately becomes a moot point. Destroying them may or may not alarm the Reapers – wide scale deployment of Inusannon technology definitely will." The smugness rose in the sphere's voice. "You should occupy yourself in your own schemes, meatbag." With a hollow pop, the machine vanished.

Harper was silent for several seconds before pulling out a fresh cigarette and lighting it. He was just inhaling when the far door opened and the broad, elegant form of General Petrovsky stepped through.

Harper blew out smoke. "I presume you heard."

The general nodded, stroking his goatee. "Yes. As I said, I've had my suspicions about the machine's agenda for some time. The Inusannon do not strike me as the kind of people interested in petty vengeance from beyond the grave... and his skill-sets lead me to a more ominous conclusion."

Harper frowned. "He does not think we can win, and has already told us his creators envisioned a long-term strategy. What could be worse than being written off by the machine with technology to match the Reapers?"

Petrovsky folded his arms. "That his technology _doesn't_ match them. I do not think he is hesitant to hand over what he knows out of fear it will be misused. His ethics are even below that of Richard, something I considered to be impossible, before I had conversations with him. And based on those conversations, his influence on the Protheans certainly made them ruthless enough to undertake the sacrifice they did."

He exhaled. "I think it is more likely than the threat of the Reapers is even more dire than he lets on, and that no matter what toys he pulls out to help us, we would still be overwhelmed. That he fears telling us the truth would lead to despair and surrender."

Jack turned to face his old friend. "On Shanxi, you told Ben and I that we always had a chance as long as we were alive and fighting."

The other man gave a wry, pained smile. "And look how that turned out." He unfolded his arms, rubbing the back of his neck as he arched it. "I've spent the past five hours trying to game out scenarios of invasion, finding variables and accounting for the unexpected. I need data – tactical, strategic, logistic and operational – to determine a viable strategy."

Jack slowly walked back to his chair, sitting as he dumped his ashes. "We're doing what we can. Okeer may have had insights into the goals of the Collectors. Taking out the Broker will give us more tools to discern, as will, in the fullness of time, the base or planet or station the Collectors are acting from. Even Hades ill-advised meddling with Reaper tech or whatever the Batarian Emperor is up to may provide useful insight."

Petrovsky nodded, but sourly. "Even so... I worry that Vigil's viewpoint is not truly aligned with our own."

The Illusive Man made a vague motion with his hands in the direction of the asteroid belt visible through the wide armaglass windows. "Unfortunately, the only reason we're still in the game is due to his sheer power. Without Vigil, staying ahead of C-SEC FINCIN, Commissars, Hades, and the Broker all at once would be impossible."

He sighed. "The Silver Legion alone would penetrate our network in days. Without Vigil, we'd have to expend huge amounts of capital and risk high visibility actions to build your vaunted military assets. Without Vigil there would be no automated fleet – we'd have to use Minsta's insane idea of appropriating the assets from TYPHON to build up a workforce and military force."

He puffed on his cigarette. "We could never have resurrected Shepard. We would be powerless, meddling _idiots_ – and too likely to play with the same sort of things Richard and Hades are, to find relevance and strike power."

Petrovsky sighed. "Instead we are a shadow threat with far too much of our power tied up in a machine that is ambivalent about our fate or goals and a woman who by all reports hates us." The sarcasm in his voice was as heavy as his scowl. "You will forgive me if I am less than enthusiastic."

Harper laughed dryly. "No matter how advanced he is, Oleg, Vigil remains a machine. It has programmed priorities and orders. I don't need Vigil to believe in Cerberus or our goals – only for its actions to allow them to come to fruition. Vigil has already stated the pattern we're seeing isn't the same as other Reaper attacks – and that makes me believe we have a chance, however slight. I'll use that."

Harper dumped his ashes again, smiling faintly. "Shepard is a more complex case, but ultimately, both Mr. Dunn and Doctor Chambers are correct. The Council's heavy-handed decision to have her arrested by the Spectres will make her feel betrayed, especially when she sees the Asari Republic and the Salarian Union choosing to 'honor' Okeer. Likewise, the most recent action of the Alliance and the intelligence we just received about Commodore Anderson will infuriate her beyond endurance. I won't even try to rein her in on Omega, instead we'll deal with Aria in the only language she respects – eezo and hard cash."

He glanced over his shoulder at Petrovsky. "When she realizes that we're not all monsters – that part is being handled by Chambers and Lawson as we speak – and that her erstwhile 'leaders' remain fixated on power politics, she'll come around."

Petrovsky shook his head. "Acting in a way that goes against the advice of your personal psychologist, as well as Miranda, seems unwise. Shepard isn't a machine, no matter how much that fool Dunn thinks she can be treated like one." He grimaced. "It just seems unlike you, after the things you suffered, to trivialize her own issues in the name of manipulating her."

Harper smiled. "You were always the bigger and better man, Oleg. Compassion suits you. But Doctor Chambers is not my only source of insight into Shepard. Dunn may not be a trained psychologist, but thus far his advice on how Shepard will react has been more accurate than what Chambers put forth. Trellani also saw a great deal that those two didn't."

Petrovsky snorted. "There's a difference in Dunn being able to predict Shepard's actions and him understanding her motivations. God, Jack - I can tell how you'll react to any given action, but I've never been able to figure out why. As for Trellani…" He shook his head. "I know she has given you a great deal of useful advice. I fail to see how her understanding of the issues Shepard has gone through is superior to Chambers, who has been studying human psychology for years?"

Harper sipped his drink, frowning as a droplet of condensation splashed his slacks. "Trellani feels that ultimately Shepard ends up trapping herself in a loop of choices, for lack of a better phrase. Dunn alluded to this. Chambers wants us to slowly win her over, but Shepard does not exist in a vacuum. Chambers - and to a lesser degree, Miranda - won't admit to themselves that Shepard resists change until it is thrust on her with no other choices available. This seems to happen, based on her history, only after certain traumas or when she is emotionally compromised."

He tapped ashes from his cigarette. "Ultimately, I don't want Shepard broken. But I do want her somewhat vulnerable. I want to use that to change her viewpoint. I want the sympathies of Miranda and Chambers to soften her, and then when the time is right, I will take her advice in a fashion that ostensibly costs us some resources."

He inhaled sharply. "Shepard will continue to have some reservations about Cerberus in the long run. I can't change that, any more than I am willing to change our ultimate goals. We can change our methodology. We can change our outlook on some issues. But I need Shepard in a place where Cerberus is not only her only option - but one she chooses, and that she chooses it because we have put her in a place where it is the right thing to do. "

Petrovsky's voice was doubtful. "I fail to see how treating her poorly helps with that."

Harper smiled. "I will react to the 'poor treatment'. I will offer an apology. and insist that what I meant was misinterpreted. After the proper conversation, in light of some of the project heads are more than a bit superfluous at this point, take the appropriate action. I can change the presentation of certain things without losing our focus on other matters."

Petrovsky shrugged. "You might want to actually listen to her. Abandoning any morally bankrupt positions means not having to explain things away to her – and gives us a clean slate. I'm not stupid enough to think you'll actually stop such things, but..."

Harper smiled. "The few 'morally bankrupt' things we're working on are going to be carefully handled, Oleg – and in case things go wrong, why, those will be Hades facilities. Shepard can destroy them as she sees fit should they end up as failures."

The general shook his head. "And if Vigil decides to tell her of such things?"

Harper snorted incredulously. "Vigil does not strike me as... concerned with our morality. And if he was planning to do so, he would have done it already. Vigil assisted with the fallback plan, after all."

Petrovsky shuddered. "I saw the footage from the armor cams. Shepard would be … very upset if she ever found out about that option. Please tell me you've gotten rid of that option."

Harper said nothing for a long second, then sighed. "I'll get rid of it when Lawson and Chambers win Shepard over. Until then... I prefer not to toss away useful options. Is there anything else, Oleg?"

The Cerberus General arched his eyebrow at the hint of a sharp tone, but merely shook his head. "No, not at this time. I'll be in Engineering if you need me." He turned smartly on his heel and left, and Harper puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette before crushing it out.

**O-TWCD-O**

Coming out of surgery was, in Shepard's many past experiences with such, usually done in a hospital room, wearing embarrassing paper robes and being filled with machines. Shepard instead woke up in her own rooms on the base, dressed in black sweats.

She sat up, blearily, and then looked across the room as Tali came in through the door. "Sara."

Shepard pushed aside the covers and swung her legs around. "Hey. How long was I out?"

The quarian woman shrugged. "They brought you here about two hours ago... so about six hours total?" She folded her arms. "Lawson said you were more damaged on the inside than they thought. If Okeer had hit you a bit harder – "

Shepard snorted, still unable to get the agony of the blows she'd taken out of her memory. "Christ, Tali. If he'd hit me any harder I would have burst like a fucking pinata. He sent me flying with a single grazing hit and bent or broke plasma-forged titanium ribs." She pulled up her sweatshirt, looking for surgical scars – and found none.

Tali tilted her head. "While you were out, Lawson had the big krogan tank moved to Security holding, and hooked up to power, water, and air. And Chambers said that the salarian, Doctor Solus, is arriving in a few more hours."

Shepard nodded, standing and wincing a little. "I see. Where's Miranda now?"

The quarian woman gestured. "In her office... I was bored because Joker is having more bone therapy done, she asked me to come check on you and see if you were up to moving around."

Shepard flexed her arm experimentally. The shoulder felt fine, but there was still a subtle, weak ache in her chest. "I guess. Hungry though."

Tali nodded. "We can eat first."

It was a good hour before Shepard got done eating, showering, and finally becoming bored enough to wander down to the Security section.

The krogan tank was in a secure reinforced room with a powerful force-screen as the only way in or out. Two RAMPART mechs holding rotary assault guns guarded the doorway, while four more were tucked behind reinforced cover – two with powerful sniper rifles, and two more with Hydra rocket launchers.

Shepard arched an eyebrow at the level of security, only to hear the footsteps of Randall Ezno approach from behind her. "Commander, ma'am."

She gave the man a thin smile. "I'm not exactly military any longer, Mr. Ezno."

The big man shrugged. "Most of the people here are... not disciplined. Until you act in a manner hostile to Cerberus, I will treat you as a Cerberus Commander." He gestured briskly to the armored cell. "In case anything goes wrong with the krogan when you wake it up, we're ready."

She turned to face him fully. "I didn't say I was going to wake the thing up."

Ezno gave what could only be called a muscle twitch, not a smile. "Ma'am – your current combat roster is a bit light on heavy combatants. Mr. Taylor serves admirably given his defensive focus and biotic skills, but the rest strike me as highly skilled pressure units – not suited for heavy front line assault. Going into Omega is unlikely to be anything but such."

She nodded. "But we now have Zaeed. He, Taylor, and I can certainly back up any assault line. Mr. Dost also looks sturdy."

Ezno snorted. "Mr. Dost is a combat engineer who sat on his _ass_ for five years. I predicted, based on your op tempo, you'd want to see if you could recruit this krogan. Am I wrong?"

She smirked. "I find it funny the least emotive guy here has a better understanding of me than the fancy psychologists. You get why I don't trust you people?"

He nodded curtly. "You distrust our motivation and restraint. Mostly the latter."

She leaned her weight back on one leg. "If you can get it – "

He held up one hand. "My superiors do not inquire after my viewpoint. My input into this project was mostly tactical. My insights were listened to politely and for the most part ignored. Cerberus is not a military project, and save for myself and General Petrovsky, has very little military discipline or understanding. Mr. Harper's motives are certainly not what someone like you would call pure. But they are better than the alternatives."

She narrowed her eyes. "And if that still means they smell?"

He folded his massive arms. "We're soldiers. Direction is for the brass. And no matter how high some people get promoted, they'll always be line animals. Ahern and Van Dorst come to mind." He nodded to her. "And you and I for that matter."

She gave a low chuckle. "Very well, then, Mr. Ezno. But there's more to it than motivation and restraint. I'm not going to stand by while fucked up shit happens on my watch – no matter what the cause is for. I'm not arguing for the sake of argument, but I've seen too many 'good intentions' that end up as total clusterfucks. The ends never justify the goddamned means if you turn into walking shit."

Ezno's eyes were cool. "Perhaps. I will not argue the defense of the Sao Paulo death squads, but I will also not claim that sometimes there simply are no good choices. It is why I gave up on morality and trying to improve things a long time ago."

Shepard nodded slowly, thinking how sad that was. "Not much different, I guess, than the way I used to be. You can still change."

Ezno shook his head. "Unlike you, I am... content with who I am." He straightened ever so slightly. "Thank you for listening, Commander."

Instinctively, she nodded crisply. "Dismissed, Mr. Ezno. I'll handle the krogan. Your precautions are more than adequate. Report to Ms. Lawson and tell her to prep medical if I get hurt."

He nodded and turned away, leaving Shepard standing thoughtfully for long seconds.

Finally, with a sigh, she turned to face the two mechs. "Drop the field, bring it up behind me after I go in."

The mechs followed her instructions without a word, and she walked past them into the cell proper. It was roomy – fifteen feet to a side – and bare of anything that could be used as a weapon save the creche itself.

She walked over to the control panel, and grimaced before touching the central glyph.

The tank shuddered, the front splitting open suddenly, letting clearish blue fluid splash and drain out. Shepard took several steps back, as the huge krogan within took a gasping, choking breath and collapsed on the floor, wires and tubing cleanly disconnecting from ports in the armor as he did so.

The big krogan coughed up more liquid, shaking its heavy head, hands splayed on the ground before shoving itself to a standing position. Glaring hard blue eyes blinked blearily before coming to an abrupt focus on her.

"...human. _Weak_." The voice was deep, almost basso like that of Okeer, but less sneering.

And with that, the krogan charged, roaring, trying to pin her to the wall.

Her first punch was enhanced with biotics, cracking his armor to hit him in the gut with enough force to stop his charge. Her second was a biotics-driven backhand that sent him stumbling back and half-spinning, blood flying from his mouth.

He stomped, shaking his head again, and spat blood. Shepard merely smirked. "Krogan. _Stupid_."

The krogan narrowed his eyes, and spread himself into a fighting stance. "I am KROGAN!" With another roar, he charged.

Shepard sighed, sidestepping the reckless charge. Using her biotics to lighten his weight she put his leading arm into a scissor-lock and then heaved, using her experiences in judo to flip him over and then into the hard metallic wall, which rang with a huge gong sound as he crashed into it.

Gamely he got to his feet, only to come to a stop when she drove her fist a good three inches into the metallic wall, making it buckle and creak alarmingly.

"...that power was not in the images I saw of humans." The krogan's expression was almost shocked, as he rubbed his crest sorely.

Shepard smirked again. "Aww. Did the little baby have a boo-boo?"

Teeth bared, he came to his full height, towering over her. "...name."

Shepard shrugged, pulling back her fist. "Shepard. Sara Shepard."

The blue eyes flickered over her form. "You are dead. And not your name. Mine. The tank...gave me only images."

She folded her arms. "I'm pretty spry for a dead woman. And having me name you seems significant. Not that I know about krogan naming. Are you some kind of leader... or a ground pounding warrior, a grunt?"

The krogan's tongue lapped past his teeth for a moment. "Mm. Grunt. Yes. Grunt will do." The eyes fixed back onto her. "Okeer wanted me to be a leader. But his imprint... has failed. I care nothing for it. His ideals and plans are meaningless garbage."

She rubbed her chin, examining him. "You were seeing images in this tank? Of what?"

The krogan swelled. "Of how to kill! To fight! To go to war and destroy our enemies.. and... other things. How to handle a Crush. How to lead. Some of it was... unclear. No context. Pictures without meaning, droning voices without importance." His voice dropped in volume. "None of that matters. I don't care about what Okeer wanted. He failed."

She smirked. "He damned sure did. I beat him in single combat."

The krogan blinked. Stared, and blinked again. "You... defeated Okeer? You are... not like any of the imprints of humans."

She walked up to him. "You have to form your own opinions on things... Grunt. Right now, though, if you aren't going to follow whatever fucked up bullshit Okeer had planned for you, what do want?"

Grunt's expression furrowed. "Want? The images never asked... what I want. How can I know? I am... newly formed." The rough voice was oddly thoughtful, as he glanced at Shepard. "I only do what I am meant to do. Fight. Reveal the strongest. Okeer's connection may have failed, but his concept of strength... that I like."

He flexed his massive shoulders. "All I know is how to fight. Without reasons...one battle is as good as any other. If you killed Okeer, then you should be a challenge."

She laughed in his face. "I just bitch-slapped your ass out of my way. If you want to fight me, you'll just die pointlessly." She walked closer to him, staring him in the eyes. "But if you want the best fight ever, you should fight with me."

He sneered. "Asking for my help means you are weak."

She tilted her head, then flashed into the kanquess. He whirled, but far too slow, as she emerged behind him. Her kick drove into his back, knocking him to the ground, and then she was on top of him, gleaming hot omniblade held inches from his eye.

"I wasn't asking, boy. And I won't offer you a second chance. You're either a valuable ally... or a soon-to-be dead liability. Which is it?"

The krogan made a pained grunting sound, then his muzzle split in a grin. "...mm. You _are_ stronger. Okeer made me but I am stronger than he, but you are..." He trailed off, looking at her, then nodded. "Very well. I will serve you. Until I can find what I... want. If the fights are good."

She exhaled and got off of him. "My enemies threaten the existence of all life in the galaxy. The Citadel hates us, my own people think I'm dead, and we are outnumbered and surrounded by enemies."

He got to his feet slowly, and she folded away her omni-tool, checking where she had backhanded him. "You okay, big guy?"

He frowned. "...I am krogan. I do not need coddling."

She rolled her eyes. "You're a kid until I say otherwise. You do any of that stupid 'I am krogan' charging bullshit and I'll put you down myself. Now, are you _hurt_?"

The look he gave her was confused, but he flexed experimentally. "...no. Merely sore."

She nodded. "If you serve me, I have rules. Everyone who follows my lead is... in my clan. Our clan. You protect them – do not hit them, do not challenge them."

His eyes narrowed. "I will not serve those weaker than I."

She rolled her eyes. "You serve me and only me. Ignore orders from the others. In a fight, I need you to be able to follow my orders." She paused, then shrugged. "Like I am your battlemaster."

Grunt was silent for several seconds before nodding. "...the tank... there are imprints of the one called Shepard. A mighty warrior. You killed Saren and Benezia." Another long pause. "...I will call you battlemaster, until you prove weak. Then I will challenge you."

She shrugged. "And then you will taste the deck again, Grunt."

The krogan grinned, an expression that made him look almost painfully young and reminded her of Urv. "You are confident. There is no deception in your smell. You... do not fear. Are you really human or are you krogan?"

She stared at him a long time before bursting into laughter.

**O-TWCD-O**

Grunt sat irritably in the medical bay while Sedanya ran tests on him. Shepard stood off to one side, smirking as Miranda walked up.

"You have no concept of the word _prudence_, do you, Shepard?"

Shepard let her weight settle onto one leg as she folded her arms. "Nope. Why should I? We now have a giant krogan badass to cover the main weakness of my squad."

Miranda sighed. "Yes, well. Given that he has no background, no history, and a lot of aggression, I'm unsure how we should proceed in integrating him."

Shepard snorted. "Doctor, you about done?"

Sedanya nodded, walking over to Shepard, Grunt following along and towering over the three females. "Yes, I am. Grunt here is in perfect health, the most impressive specimen of krogan I have ever seen."

The krogan nodded. "I am the ultimate evolution of krogan."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "And modest too." She gestured to Miranda. "This is Miranda Lawson, second in command of this project. In the rare event I am not able to command you myself, heed her commands. She has a much shorter temper than I do and will not hesitate to kill you if you are insolent enough to attack her like you did me."

Miranda almost spoke but Grunt folded his arms. "...you think she could?"

Shepard snorted. Personally, she figured it would be ugly, short, and wouldn't end with Miranda winning, but no need for Grunt to know that. "Miranda is similar to you. Genetically engineered by a goddamned madman to be perfect. You might find something in common if you talked to her rather than try to fight her, but I'd put my money on her putting you down if you're dumb enough to piss her off."

The krogan's eyes flicked over the woman, Miranda steeling her jaw and staring right back, before the krogan sighed. "...Okeer's tank imprints suggested humans were weak. But if she is like you ..." He hesitated, then grunted. "Fine."

Something about his tone made Miranda's lips quirk. "You sound like an irritated teenager complaining about chores, Grunt. I assure you if I give you orders they will mostly be to back up Shepard. Like krogan, she prefers to charge in without thinking."

Grunt nodded at this, seemingly pleased. "Of course. A battlemaster cannot fear. He must face death without hesitation."

Shepard snorted. "I've already died. Wasn't scared of dying before, and I'm damned sure not scared of it now."

The krogan frowned. "...how were you killed?"

Shepard shrugged. "Ambush, had my ship blown up around me, crashed with it on a planet after being burned alive and pretty much smashed." She rubbed at her shoulder. "I got better."

The krogan's muzzle split into a grin. "Impressive. A few krogan have survived controlled crashes... but none have defeated death." A pause. "You will teach me such strength?"

Shepard's answering grin drew a huff of exasperation from Miranda. "Ugh. It's like you had a child or something. I will be in Operations if you need me."

Shepard laughed, although something in Miranda's words left a pang in her heart. She shook it off and turned back to Grunt. "Let's find you a good weapon, get you some food, and let you meet the rest of the team."

The krogan nodded. "...guns and food sound good. You are more krogan than human. What is the name of your clan?"

Shepard paused. "The group? Er, Revenant, I guess. But that's more of a formal name."

She turned towards the armory, Grunt following. "That is your clan name?"

Shepard shook her head. "Not... exactly. My full name is Sara Ying Shepard. I guess 'Shepard' would be my clan name, like Ganar was Okeer's."

Grunt nodded. "Ganar... their actions are weakness. One cannot manipulate their way to true strength. Okeer's enemies and plans are nothing to me, and I cannot use that name. You have offered me arms and food, as a battlemaster to krant. I am now Shepard Grunt."

Shepard pursed her lips. "...well, that's one way to keep the family name alive, I guess." She lead him to the armory first, watching his eyes widen as he took in the huge array of guns.

She glanced around, expecting to see Taylor. "Vigil?"

The sphere erupted into being, surprising Grunt, who jerked back. "Oh, look. The undead chieftain has taken on an even more primitive apprentice."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Where is Mr. Taylor?"

The sphere pulsed. "Taylor's shuttle is linking up with the pinnace bringing Mr. Solus to us – the Broker sent pursuit forces after them. The good doctor will arrive at the same time as Ms. Goto. Miranda already sent this update to your office, if you bothered to do more than wander about in a meat-head daze to check such things."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Grunt, meet Vigil. Ancient AI and goddamned asshole."

Grunt approached the sphere, sniffing. "...it has no smell."

The sphere's pulse was almost sluggish, it's voice dripping with sarcastic incredulity. "Amazing. You have found a being even more dim than yourself, meatbag. A crowning achievement."

Grunt, frowning, growled at the sphere, and Shepard snorted. "Don't bother. It's pretty much indestructible. Consider it training – if that thing can't get you riled up, nothing on the battlefield will either."

Vigil's voice took on a note of glee. "Is this, perhaps, permission to offer such training to the krogan?"

Shepard shook her head. "I wouldn't. Krogan tend to eat things they don't like, and I need him alive."

The sphere soared higher, out of Grunt's reach. "A horrifying experience to be sure, but one I have sadly already experienced."

She blinked. "You've been eaten by a krogan before?"

The sphere circled. "No. Thresher maw. One of Javik's... less intellectual plans. He was attempting to tame them as battle mounts."

Shepard could see this in her mind's eye, and nearly bent double laughing. "This guy sounds awesome. It's a shame he's dead, think of the shit we could have gotten up to."

Vigil's usual radiance dimmed, his voice dry. "A pair of violent, unnaturally augmented brutal meat-bags with fixations on vengeance? Yes, I'm sure that would end well. His idea of subtlety was even worse than yours, primitive."

She shrugged, gesturing to Grunt. "I was going to get Taylor to work with Grunt on picking out a gun, but maybe I should make something special for him." She cocked an eye at Vigil. "Those Prothean weapons things - the green crystals, is there any way we can use those?"

The sphere floated lower. "...perhaps. But without the proper focusing technologies, such emissions would be... diffuse. Short range, and somewhat conical."

Shepard's face split into an almost unholy grin, and the sphere suddenly wondered just what it had unleashed.


	24. Arc II: You should have seen this coming

_**A/N**:_

_Thanks to the DLP folks for giving me evil ideas :D  
_

_This is one of those chapters that I had to break in two pieces, as it links together a number of different concepts. Omega is coming soon, never fear. _

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. They deserve more credit than I do.  
_

_And while I'm thinking about it: Go review **Living an Indoctrinated Dream**_ _by Aberron, and **The Queen, the monster and the child **by metaladdict. __  
_

* * *

_'Might always makes right. Fear of punishment, fear of the law, and fear of those stronger is all that enables laws to work. Those who forget to fear are criminals, those who let such fear master them are productive members of society.'  
_

_\- Saint Victor Manswell, 'The Perspective from Above'  
_

* * *

Grunt watched as Shepard laid out additional pieces on the omni-forge, his mind racing to absorb the information she was teaching him about weapon creation even as she was making one. She had been going on for some time about the basics of the art – the functionality of each part of a weapon and how they were, in her mind, like puzzles that could assemble several different pictures.

It was a striking mental image, one he committed to memory, even as he thought on the larger ramifications of her actions. For a battlemaster to gift his warriors weapons, armor and food was a given. But rarely if ever did krogan have the skills to forge weapons themselves, according to the imprints from the tank. Such honors were only given to those of the most critical importance and personal significance to the tribe.

Of course, by granting him her name, she had already adopted him into her own clan, based on nothing more than his potential strength. He was highly flattered she was impressed enough by his power to give him a further honor, even if it was somewhat unconventional by krogan standards. Then again, she was human – he didn't expect her to realize the significance of what she had done.

The gesture still _mattered_. Curious, given how Okeer described humans as usually being self-absorbed.

Okeer's voice, dismissive and cool, had pictured the krogan as little more than broken savages, unworthy of anything but scorn – but still superior to humans. Humans were weak, squabbling with themselves over stupid things, and presented as the sex slaves of the asari. Most humans were easily killed and their frail bodies didn't even have secondary organs except for kidneys.

Worse, the humans constantly tried and failed to match the machinations of the salarians and asari, grasping at power that would only get their entire race destroyed if they succeeded in achieving such. Okeer expected them to either be subsumed through cultural sabotage by the asari or obliterated by the salarians in less than a century – far less, if his contacts in asari and salarian space were not exaggerating.

So he had expected weakness from humans. Frailty. Not necessarily stupidity, but definitely frivolity.

Shepard did not fit any of the images in the tank. He watched attentively as she continued her basic primer on weapon design, his agile mind memorizing the framework of what she spoke of even as he continued to think about his new battlemaster.

She was stronger and faster than he was, which should be impossible. From her smell, he knew some of that was probably cybernetic implants, but what the tank told him of such implied such power would be very rare and hideously expensive. Beyond that, she was a biotic. And while biotic cyborgs were not totally unknown, the tank only listed one of any real power – Tetrimus Rakora.

Based on what little she had told him about the group she was allied with, this Cerberus, they were also not weak. Okeer's implants touched only on them briefly, but he was admiring of their leader, calling him both cunning and ruthless.

Shepard herself, however, continued to surprise him. She, like Okeer himself, was not merely a warrior. She lead. If she was matching wits with the Broker, then she had to dabble in intelligence and espionage. She commanded fleets as well as soldiers. And now he was discovering she had a master-crafter's touch with weapons that far exceeded those he had been shown in the tank.

He glanced around the well stocked armory, thinking about that. Racks of gleaming weapons – shotguns, rifles, assault weapons – were stacked neatly, but the designs were unfamiliar. He frowned. "Battlemaster. The weapons here...did you also design them?"

Shepard paused in building a shock framework for the shotgun she was making and nodded. "Yeah, I did. When I died, my design notebook was … taken. It fell into the hands of Cerberus along with my body, and they used it to make my designs for various weapons."

Grunt nodded. "So everyone uses weapons you design them?" For some reason the idea she was merely doing for him what she had done for others stung. A moment later, that faded to a warm glow at her words and snort.

"Hardly. The designs here were for mass production anyway. What I'm making you is customized for your size, frame, and what I suspect is your combat outlook." She paused, her voice faltering for a second. "I've...only made one other weapon custom for its owner. Well, two, actually. One for the man who … I guess you could call my battlemaster, the one who trained me not to fight like a blood raging krogan." She exhaled. "Not that it did me any good in the end."

Grunt didn't know whether that was good or bad, but the note of mixed pride and pain in her voice was enough for him to realize brashness was a bad idea. "And the other?"

Shepard swallowed. "My … mate. The Broker's assassin killed her." She exhaled. "Her death, and that of my friends, is the only the reason I am still … alive. Or alive once more. She and my friends sacrificed themselves to recover my body, so that Cerberus could revive me." She balled her fist.

Grunt had no training on how to deal with humans. The tank imprints suggested leaders merely acted and if they were powerful enough, other krogan would follow. But he was not stupid. He didn't know where he would end up, but he knew his place well enough, behind his battle master. And if someone had hurt his battlemaster, who gifted him with her name and her brilliance at weapons…

He felt anger stir, and smiled grimly. Drawing himself up to his full height and making his voice louder, he spoke firmly. "Then we will find the people who killed them and crush them to paste. Yes?"

She paused, then gave a faint, bitter laugh. "Yes. It won't bring them back, but … it is all I have."

Grunt frowned. "...the imprint Okeer left me is often useless. Some of it … is just words. But some of the words have wisdom in them. 'Revenge is never pointless if it stops those who would inflict suffering on others as they have done to you'."

Shepard wiped her eyes angrily and nodded. "Well, how about that. Wisdom from the dead." She sighed. "He's fucking right, though. God knows how many lives the Broker has ruined, and even now he's convinced the Council the Reapers are not a threat."

Grunt's stomach had interrupted the first part of her quest to make a weapon, so she studied and consulted with Vigil while the krogan had eaten his first meal. Given that Shepard was occupied, Miranda had taken it upon herself to explain to Grunt about the Reapers, the Collectors, and the Broker.

Grunt was not sure how he felt about such honorless foes. The Reapers were simply too large for him to get his brain around. He would have faith that Shepard would crush them. The Collectors were sneaking filth, hiding behind an impenetrable relay and attacking the defenseless. The imprint suggested such actions were those of an enemy who lacked strength of numbers.

That only meant they would be easy prey.

The Broker, on the other hand, discomfited Grunt's mindset. Even now, as he watched Shepard return to work on the weapon, he felt his plate tighten at the thought of the Network. The very antithesis of krogan pride in direct combat... Okeer had admired them and worked with them.

Hazy images of the one known as Tetrimus were prefaced with warning after warning. Okeer himself had been deeply uncertain of his own ability to defeat the crippled looking turian, and several warnings suggested such frailty was more melodramatic acting on the part of the assassin.

Shepard sighed, and refocused on the weapon in front of her. "Stupid of me, getting … emotional. It just hurts, and I don't know how to deal with that. I'm just … running on fucking empty, sometimes. When I'm not distracting myself."

The krogan looked at her in curiosity, his limited life experiences drawing a blank. But he was not stupid. He knew – from the imprints – what love was. Love for krogan was different in some ways...but certainly he could understand the rage that would erupt from losing a beloved mate or child to treachery.

Another of Okeer's many sayings floated across his thoughts. "An empty soul cannot feel grief. An empty heart cannot feel rage." He rolled his shoulders, feeling both upset and angry that he could think of nothing more to be of use.

Shepard tilted her head, then gave him a smile. "...thanks, big guy. Not too many people bother to try and cheer me up. I try not to let myself think about it." She looked back down at the weapon. "Easier to focus on the killing."

Grunt nodded, deciding to steer her towards that. "You say that the weapon has to be tailored to the warrior. But most weapons aren't. Why do you do that?"

Shepard frowned, bending over further to start attaching some kind of electronics to the bulky central barrel of what she was making. "A lot of weapons manufacturers are making guns that will be used by all kinds of people. Or even multiple races. Turians have better eyesight, batarians can make snapshots a lot better, so on and so forth. When I was learning about the kanquess from the asari, they taught me that each race's weapons teach you how they fight, what they focus on."

She bent down to pick out a part from the bench, and laid it alongside the barrel. "Asari weapons draw on an asari's innate biotics. Turian weapons have special sights designed for their eyes. Salarians incorporate grenades into most everything they use to keep enemies out of melee range. So many focused possibilities, but a lot end up getting lost by the more popular weapon lines, so they'll sell better to all aliens."

She bit her lip, using a small tool to link leads of omni-filament together. "But the idea of making something fit the person using it stuck with me. I looked at how I made my ODIN, how it was … focused on how I fought, and how some other guns I liked more or less, and some I hated. And then I sort of realized that the more generic were the ones I didn't like."

She picked up some more parts from the side, snapping them into place. "Basically, Grunt, the key to what I build is simple. A gun can't be everything to everyone. And it can't be taken as a blank slate. It has to fit the personality of the user. Every idiot says a gun is for killing people. But that's a stupid way to look at it. A gun is really a tool. It can be useful for killing, but that's not all you do with one."

He banished his musings, paying full attention. "What else use is a weapon if not to kill?"

She smirked. "To intimidate, by shape and its firepower. To provide suppression fire. To breach a door, to blow open a locked panel. A signaling device. A makeshift explosive. Lots of things. Most of all, if your weapons are unpredictable, you are hard to counter."

Her smirk widened. "I've lost track of how many morons I've killed that assumed the shotgun I use was useless at medium range, not knowing it can shift from a cone blast to a solid slug configuration. Most shotguns don't offer that option. Likewise, most shotguns aren't good against heavy armor – I use armor piercing wedges, mostly just to deal with that issue, while most standard shotguns don't because they go through ammo blocks faster."

She flipped the weapon frame over. "Basically, I ask myself when I make a gun how does one fight with it, and what weaknesses are built into it. For you..." She bit her lip, thinking. "You're going to always be a target. You are a big guy, and most are going to see you as the most dire threat. You can soak a lot of damage, but you aren't ever going to be useful at very long ranges. Cover is a problem. You need to use mobility, aggression and damage to control your assault."

He smiled at such a concept as she continued. "I'll get you a longer range weapon for dealing with targets out of immediate combat range. Something heavy. That will be mostly suppressive fire with an anti-armor component." She bent over, pulling some tools out of the drawers beneath the omni-forge's slab-like upper surface, and then laid them on top, fiddling with something. "But for the most part you will have to hold a line with me."

She glanced over her shoulder at him. "The rest of the team won't be able to survive the hits you and I can. The biotics are tough, but having a barrier shatter on you hurts. The quarians are also tougher than they look – Tali survived losing an arm and a leg. But I'd rather not risk them."

Grunt nodded. His tank imprints on quarians were extremely sketchy – although Okeer was old enough to remember what they looked like under the suits. "Quarians...are vulnerable to infection if their suits are breached."

Shepard nodded. "The two quarian ladies I fight with have armor plating on their suits, as well as strong kinetic shields and omni-plating, but things can and will go wrong in a hurry. If the enemy is busy pissing themselves over being charged by you and I, they won't be shooting at them."

Shepard snapped something into place on the weapon. "Not that charging is always the best action. There's no point wasting ammo closing to short range if you can kill them at long range."

Grunt frowned. "Krogan are not typically longer range fighters."

She shrugged. "No, not typically. At range you're not any better than anyone else. Up close, you can shrug off hits and break people in melee. Problem with that is getting into melee range. I have biotics so I can cheat, but what I studied in officer school said krogan had to give up after the Genophage because you couldn't do swarm assault tactics and absorb losses to get into melee range anymore."

Grunt nodded. "The Genophage...Okeer was obsessed with it. Pfagh. The Genophage, in his mind, broke my people into a new mold, one they refused to fit into." He narrowed his eyes. "But if I do not charge, then what..."

She laughed. "You will be charging...sometimes. Mostly from flanking positions if possible. I can't think of anything worse than being flanked by a half ton pissed off krogan. There's times when a charge is stupid, though. Charging into fixed positions with heavy weapons and snipers will get you killed. You have to use your mind and the tools you have to get the job done."

She smiled, laying out one of the long, green Prothean crystals. "Speaking of tools...alright, Vigil. I've got basic frameworks laid out, and an energy router with a capacitor. A mass effect field generator will shape the blast...how do I power this thing ?"

Vigil erupted into being. "The Protheans were supremely unimaginative with the Inusannon technology I gave them, because they were too stupid to use most of it. The crystals were their methods of attempting to create anti-particle beam weapons, but they could never figure out how to do phase-type shifting in small sizes."

Vigil floated over the workbench. "These are barium doped periodically poled lithium niobate crystals, set into a specific matrix. Triangular, to be exact, forming a primitive if effective loop that can accelerate particles."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Well, that's as clear as mud."

The sphere gave a human sounding sigh. "In a stupid fashion then – the crystal is a particle waveguide. Similar to a conventional particle beam weapon, it acts as the cyclotronic element. Instead of pure particle emission, however, it affects particle interaction and creates streams of unstable particle fragments. The mass effect generator accelerates these to vast speeds, and the side effects of the crystal itself add an element of projected high-energy radiation."

Vigil extruded a pseduopod over the crystal, lines of white energy wrapping around the bottom half of the crystal.. "The result was a damaging, highly focused stream capable of shearing through almost anything it hit. Without the rest of the focusing arrays – which you do not have the capacity to build – the resulting weapon will simply spray out a cone of vastly unstable particles, high energy gamma rays, and possibly some electrical discharge from polarity shifts."

Shepard smiled. "That's fucking fascinating, but doesn't explain how I power it."

The sphere withdrew, revealing the attachment of a new Inusannon power star at one end of the crystal. "I have handled that. Have the trigger function activate the star. I would also install heat sinks and heat venting, the crystal will generate a great deal of heat."

Shepard grunted, shooing the sphere out of the way. "Have to mount the crystal center-line and hold it in place with mag-clamps, then...probably droplet sinks in the under-barrel, good place to have a grip. Intake valves and air cool the rest." She began pulling out more parts, and then glanced up at Vigil.

"Thanks."

The sphere wobbled. "None are needed. It is an inventive use of the technology, as mangled as it is. I presume this is some sort of shotgun?"

She nodded. "I'm adding a mag-rail launcher assembly from a Phaeston in the under-barrel below the sinks, so he has a longer-range option, but yeah. Given that a single shot went right through me like nothing, I'm figuring if he blasts someone with this, they won't get up."

The sphere gave an incredulous snort. "If someone is shot at _this_ range with a destabilized particle blast, there is likely to be nothing left behind **_to_** get up."

Grunt nodded. "Good. Heh heh heh."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard had lots of work left on Grunt's weapon, but had to allow the omni-forge to bake the outer housing and give the omni-leads time to set, as well as come up with a targeting package for the gun. She sent Grunt off to talk to Dost about his armor, as she didn't know if it was just for show or battle ready.

Deciding to get out of the armory, she walked to the living level, and found herself surprised to see Jack and Zaeed both there, in the eating area, standing in front of a Tupari machine. The machine had been altered to dispense drinks without having to pay credits for them, but something must have gone wrong.

"Jeez, old man. Just call a fuckin' engineer to fix it." Jack folded her arms, her voice sounding bored.

Zaeed gave her a sidelong glance of disgust. "I'm gonna find whoever rigged this guddamned thing up and gut them. It fucking mocked me. Nothing mocks me."

Shepard walked up. "Problems?"

Jack jerked a thumb in the mercenary's direction. "It won't give him a lemon-lime Tupari. He wants me to melt the door off with warpfire."

Shepard sighed. "Zaeed, there's Tupari in the fridge too. I have no fucking clue why Cerberus stuck vending machines in here, but I don't want parts of my base blown up."

He glared at the machine. "This isn't over." He stalked away, and Jack shook her head.

Shepard smiled at the younger woman, seeing she still had the armored vest on. "Still got a little time before TIM and the rest of the new people show up. Feel like training?"

Jack rolled her eyes. "No, fuck that. I'm still tired from the shit we did before. I want a drink. All you have in this place is fucking water, Tupari and coffee. Where's the hard shit?"

Shepard quirked her lips. "I dunno. But I have some of my own, come on." She lead Jack around the edge of the eating spaces, down a corridor that lead to her own quarters, and then stepped inside.

Shepard's quarters on the base itself were large and roomy, but like the ones on the Normandy, she'd done little to personalize the place. The image of Liara was at the end of her desk along with various datapads, and a pair of hooks near her bed held her warp sword, but that was about all she'd done.

Shepard walked down into the main room, towards the corner where a mini-fridge and a small food processing unit was situated. She pulled out a bottle of scotch and two plastic cups, as Jack flopped down on the long leather couch.

The ex-con glanced around, sneering. "Cerberus certainly doesn't skimp on the good shit, do they?"

Shepard walked to the table next to Jack, and poured out the drink into the glasses, pushing her hair back as it fell into her face from leaning over. "No, they don't. Not that I give a shit."

Jack picked up the drink, mindful of how strong it was, and sipped rather than gulped. She then glanced at Shepard, watching as the taller woman turned away to stare at the large haptic display of the base's many levels.

Shepard's voice was soft when she spoke, but clear. "I've never been to Omega. Heard about it, from stories some of the slaves I freed told me of. Heard from what it was like from Tali and Joker, when they were there to get my body."

Jack leaned back. "It's a pretty fucked up place. Back before I got iced, Archangel was just getting started up. Been reading the news, that nutjob has really cleaned house, but he's going to get his shit pushed in now. All the gangs are teaming up."

Shepard gave a breathy little laugh. "Well, hopefully we can get him out of there before they find him. We'll have to wait and see what happens." She turned back to face Jack. "You find anything else about your family?"

Jack's expression faltered. "...yeah. Looks like my mom died of eezo dusting complications not long after I was born. My father got hurt about two years after I was born, he was trying to work two jobs to make enough money while his sister watched me. The records don't show what happened after that, except I ended up in an orphanage and was picked up by Cerberus goons along with a bunch of other young kids."

She exhaled. "My aunt is dead. Vigil said he couldn't find any trace of my father. There's some distant relatives, I guess, but they don't know me from anybody else..." She grimaced.

Shepard nodded, taking a shot of her drink. "Sorry that didn't pan out better for you."

The younger woman gave a tired shrug. "Nothing new there. Shit never works out right in the end, seems like." She drank, and leaned back on the couch. "Starting over again isn't so bad. I mean, yeah, there's Cerberus, but if they leave me the fuck alone...well, I don't have any better options right now."

Shepard nodded again, not sure of what to say. After a moment, she just went with what was on her mind. "So, did you want to talk about anything, or just a drink?"

Jack's head came up, and she gave a weak smile. "Dunno. Ain't like there's lots of people to talk to here. Some of your marines are a bit too busy eyeing me up for me to bother with."

Shepard snorted. "That's what you get when you go around dressed in goddamned bandages, looking like a cheap-dancer from Chora's Den."

Jack shrugged. "More than once, some stupid bastard took a look and got distracted enough for me to kill him. Idiots want to look at me like a piece of fuck-meat, I'm going to use it for everything I can." She shrugged. "Don't mean I like it."

Shepard sighed. "Well, you don't have to do that now. And you are wearing the vest. Maybe they were just checking your ink out? And surely there's others you can talk to."

Jack rolled her eyes, then shook her head. "Zaeed's pretty cool. I mean, old as fuck, but he tells some good stories. It all sounds like bullshit until you realize he actually pulled it off." Her lips curled into a smile. "He also doesn't like Miranda very much."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "He say why?"

Jack waved a hand. "Some shit about how women who dress up to show off their tits and asses can't be expected to be taken seriously. Almost said something, but wasn't worth the effort." She sipped the drink. "Gotta say, he's not wrong about the Cheerleader. She's just screaming out 'pay attention to me!'

Shepard fished her cigarettes out of her front pocket and lit one. "Maybe. Miranda means well, like I said. I know you have some issues with Cerberus – hell, so do I – but taking it out on her won't fix anything."

Jack shrugged. "Meh. Let's get to Omega. Before we blow the place up, we can order up some asari strippers and blow off steam, get smashed."

Shepard gave the younger woman a look. "Riiight. Because no one will give a second glance at the _white armor _and start freaking out."

The ex-con drained her glass and laughed. "Ha, that's on you. Ain't my fault you can't go out and get any… I already offered to help."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "You keep throwing that out, maybe Miranda isn't the only one trying to get noticed?" She chuckled as Jack stuttered and blushed a bit, before moving to sit down on the couch herself.

She leaned back, taking a puff of her cigarette, and sighed. "I wasn't ever much of a party girl. Too scared of getting really drunk and doing something stupid. Maybe after I blow the Broker's head off I'll have one."

Jack poured herself some more scotch. "You're a downer sometimes. Fuck that. You never got lit up, just bang, go for it?"

Shepard shrugged. "Once or twice. Couple of times that went down … badly." She puffed on the cigarette again. "Later on, there wasn't much point. I cut loose some after we took down Benezia and after my wedding, but it was more of a private thing." Her voice dropped. "Hard to want to do that sort of thing now, with all I've lost."

Jack nodded, her large eyes flickering over Shepard's form before turning to the glass in her hand. "For someone telling me I need to let go of my past and think about who I want to be, you sure do bury yourself in it."

Shepard opened her mouth to answer that, then stopped. A second later she spoke. "Probably so. I wanted to change who I was...for someone else's sake, I guess, not my own. And now that she's gone..."

Jack gave an angry snort. "What? Because she's dead you're just gonna let yourself slide back to where you were? Fuck, Shepard, even I'm not that dumb. You think that is what she'd want?"

Shepard pursed her lips. "No. But it is easier said than done." She inhaled cigarette smoke, blowing it out with a sigh. "I try to remember what I've learned, how I changed, what it has shown me. But the more I do that, the more I think about what I've lost."

She put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the table. "I can't function like that. It hurts too much to focus on it, and right now I can't deal with that. Easier to just focus on killing the bad guys."

Jack didn't like the note in Shepard's voice. "Sounds like bullshit and fear to me. Then again, this is why I don't let myself get attached and shit. It's a lot easier to just get shitfaced, have a good hard fuck, and then keep moving."

Shepard sipped her drink. "And that sounds like just pretending there's no problem and using people to feel better. If the only relationships you have are shallow, it's no fucking wonder people will betray you." She shrugged. "I've had a lot of the same thoughts you have, Jack. I moved past that, but … I don't know where the hell I am now."

She sipped the drink again. "I mean...fuck! I was dead. Not to keep bringing it up, but when I shot that torp at whatever killed the Normandy, I knew I was done for. Except now I'm not, and everything is even MORE completely fucked than when I kicked the bucket. That's what I meant, I guess. There's no point to … doing much of anything."

Jack raised her eyebrows. "So you feel since the people you loved are dead, that you just give the fuck up? That changing who you were doesn't mean shit? Man, Kai would hate you."

Shepard frowned. "What do you mean?"

The ex-con leaned back a bit further. "Kai told me that you couldn't depend on anyone else to give you a reason to live. They'd either betray you or get killed and leave you alone. He said I had to find my own reason to give a shit, not borrow someone else's idea, or it would always end up with me being used."

She drank, wiping her mouth after. "I'm not saying you should just put it all behind you. Fuck, if I was in a serious relationship with anyone and they got killed..."

The younger woman trailed off, then shook her head. "But that's not the point. If you tell me I gotta change to be who I need to be, then it should be same for you. You still got friends, doncha? That quarian, that moron Joker, your marines."

Shepard gave her a tired smile. "...pretty heavy for you, Jack."

Jack snorted. "Bitch, I'm awesome in every way." She drained the second glass of scotch, blinking a bit after doing so. "How much of this shit do you drink?"

Shepard sighed. "Never enough." She glanced over at the status panel, flashing red in the armory. "I got some minor things to finish up, Jack. We'll probably need to do a bit more training before we head to Omega."

The convict stood. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'm taking this bottle, though, Zaeed was looking for a drink earlier."

Shepard waved her on, leaving her quarters and walking to the armory, her mind full of thoughts. Jack surprised her – both with caring about what Shepard herself was going through and being willing to open up about how she felt.

As Shepard headed towards the lifts, she thought again about the awkward conversation in the engineering hold. It wasn't that Jack wasn't pretty. She was exotic, striking, and just as damaged as Shepard herself was. But it wasn't healthy to throw herself into some kind of fucked up relationship with someone who had already been used over and over again just to pull herself together.

Then again, Shepard had ended up relying on Liara to help her pull herself together. And part of the problem, she knew, was that she was lonely, as emo as that sounded.

Jack probably had a workable idea, if Shepard just wanted to have some empty sex. Put on a disguise, get an asari stripper with a fetish for kink, and blow off steam. But that was asking for trouble of its own, especially if the asari got any of Shepard's memories. Plus, if she was honest, she didn't want empty sex – she wanted someone to cling to, to tell herself she could heal past this hole in everything that she was.

As she reached the elevator, she wondered who to talk to about it. Not goddamned Chambers, that was for sure. Maybe she could sit down with Sedanya, although she had to admit she didn't know the doctor real well. Maybe Pressly, though there was no telling what he'd say.

In a way though, it didn't really matter what anyone else said. All that mattered was the truth.

Jack was throwing her own words back in her face...and was absolutely right. The Broker had to die. Tetrimus had to die. But this was not the first time she'd lost everything. She'd lost it all on Torfan, when her squad left her kneeling in the dirt. She'd never thought she'd get over that...and ended up moving on to experience things that made life worth living.

Letting herself sit here and agonize over what she lost wasn't any better than sitting around agonizing over what she never had before Liara came along. It was just hiding from what was, and that wasn't going to help her in the long run. If that meant pushing through pain and finding someone new, then that's what she would have to do.

She entered the elevator and forced her thoughts to clear. She had a weapon to finish.

**O-TWCD-O**

The arrival of Jack Harper to Shepard's asteroid base happened at nearly the same time Trellani's pinnace landed. Given that Shepard's talk with Jack had delayed her finishing up with Grunt's weapon, she instructed Miranda to handle it, saying she'd be down in a few minutes once she put on her armor.

Miranda didn't really see the point of Shepard 'revealing' herself in such a fashion, but decided not to comment. That left Miranda and Pressly to greet the arrivals.

Pressly himself was walking around for the first time in years, using a cane but smiling widely nonetheless. His cybernetic eye surgery had gone well, and he wore the standard Cerberus dress uniform – a high collared tunic of armor-weave with SA-style bulked shoulders, fastened with snaps to one side – but with the Cerberus logo removed.

He had spoken at length with Miranda about the military organization of the people Shepard was gathering, as well as legal status. Miranda had suggested discussing with General Petrovsky, who would be accompanying Harper, so he was here waiting.

Harper's pinnace landed first, touching down to the far left of the shuttle bay, the side hatch opening a few minutes later. Harper himself stepped out first, dressed in deep cobalt blue slacks and matching blazer, with a square-collared off-silver shirt and a ribbon tie of deep blue. Behind him, Petrovsky followed, wearing the same sort of uniform as Pressly but with golden bars across his shoulders and the Cerberus insignia gleaming from the high collar.

Harper glanced around, fixing his gaze on Miranda and Pressly after a moment and walking over to them. "Miranda. And Mr. Pressly. Good to see you have recovered under our care." He extended a hand to the stocky man, who shook it.

Pressly's voice was firm but cool, like his handshake. "I appreciate the dedication of your medical staff. This is all still something I'm adjusting to – I will admit I did not expect to discover my old CO had been returned from death...or that Cerberus had survived."

Harper inclined his head, and gestured to Petrovsky. "Miranda said you had some questions for the general...while we wait, you might as well ask them."

Pressly nodded and turned to face the stentorian features of the general, who was stroking his goatee. "I have the sort of concerns any XO might have when his CO is under a great deal of stress and the situation is not exactly regulation. First of all, what is Shepard's legal status as far as citizenship goes? Or, for that matter, ours?"

Petrovsky sniffed. "A curious concern. The Alliance Code of Military Justice implies that upon confirmation of death military members are discharged honorably. For members already discharged, there is no limitation as to what you can get up to... in theory."

He folded his arms. "There is one legal precedent, where a member believed KIA had actually staged his own death and deserted. SA JAG wanted to court marshal him, but his attorney argued – successfully – that his legal death severed the ability for the military to have any authority over him. The fact that he staged his death and went AWOL as a result did not invalidate the fact that the SA had effectively declared him legally dead."

Petrovsky smiled. "Of course, such an act also revoked his SA citizenship, and the Commissars shot him in the head via summary execution for treason. Legally, every member of Cerberus is technically in violation of the Code of Law, Section Six. But that is a very hard technical sell to make, since Cerberus was destroyed and removed from the list of subversive organizations."

Pressly sighed. "So we are not technically criminals."

Petrovsky waggled a hand. "We aren't. The problem will be Shepard. Mr. Dost, Ms. Zorah, Mr. Moreau, Mr. Taylor, and all of Shepard's marine team – as well as yourself – were all discharged. Some honorably, some dishonorably. Doesn't matter, you aren't subject to the ACMJ at that point. Likewise, until and unless you take action against the SA, the Commissars don't have a case."

Petrovsky sighed. "Shepard was active duty at the time of her death...and I suspect they will make the argument she had a duty, upon 'awakening' , to make contact with the Alliance to inform them of her survival. The lawyers will have a field day with it. Her citizenship – given her noble status – is also technically active...making her subject to the whim of the High Lords, if not the Commissars."

Harper appeared amused. "Might I ask why you're so concerned about the legalities, Mr. Pressly?"

Pressly gave a tight smile. "At some point, sir, she's going to have to make contact in her real identity with the Alliance. If there is any legal way the Alliance can shut her down – or shut you down – they're going to use it. And even if they don't go after her, the others involved are vulnerable. If Shepard's marine team and I – not to mention Joker – aren't absolutely legally clear, the Commissars will have every right to put our families into re-education or just kill them if we don't surrender to their custody."

He met Harper's gaze. "I'm sure you probably think that's just the cost of doing business, saving the galaxy or whatever, but I don't intend to sacrifice my son and his wife. I doubt Mr. Vega wants his nephew shot, or that Joker would like it if his family was arrested."

He glanced at Petrovsky. "Second, I'm concerned about the legality because of what Shepard has already done. Blowing up pirates and what not may or may not be frowned on – killing Okeer is going to vastly irritate a large number of people across the galaxy. That will make working with the Alliance and other groups a lot harder … unless we have rock solid legal reasons for acting the way we did. It may seem silly given the threat of the Reapers … but it's my job to consider the things the boss overlooks."

Harper smiled. "And this, Miranda, is why I suggested learning from Mr. Pressly. As it happens, I have already made … arrangements for anything of that nature happening, at least in terms of Commissars threatening family members. Cerberus is low on manpower, but we have enough people that we can extract a handful of people. We have a number of front corporations outside of Alliance space where they can be employed."

He turned, as the proximity alarm sounded and the bay doors slid open as another pinnace approached. "Shepard's return to public life is something I've extensively prepared for – I have had a team of lawyers working on all of the possible angles for almost a year now. I have not overlooked that aspect of events, Mr. Pressly."

The ex-Alliance officer shrugged. "I see. That's good to hear."

Harper watched as the pinnace closed range. "How exactly are you and Miranda dividing your duties, by the way? Out of curiosity."

The two exchanged glances before Miranda spoke. "Mr. Pressly is the executive officer of the Normandy, and assists with duties here on the base otherwise. I remain second-in-command of the operation, per Shepard's instructions, but my lack of experience in running a space vessel means I am less use in day-to-day ship functions."

Harper nodded as the pinnace touched down. Pressly watched him carefully – if he didn't know better, the Illusive Man almost looked worried or nervous.

The pinnace hatch slid open, a ramp sliding out and down from just below it, and the first figures off the boat were Kai Leng and Theo Pellham, in civilian clothing. The swordsman's long ballistic coat was missing and his shirt was spattered with purple blood here and there, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Trellani came down next, and Pressly watched Harper stiffen ever so slightly. She was heavily bandaged, and given that there had been no change of clothes on the pinnace, still wore her blood-stained, damaged formal dress, her shawl re-purposed into a sling for one arm. She was limping as she walked down the ramp, but her expression was calm.

Harper exhaled slowly as the rest filed out – Taylor, a slender salarian wearing thin-line body armor under an armored coat, and finally a slender woman in black armor with a hood, limping worse than Trellani was.

Said woman came to a stop at the foot of the ramp. "...holy shit. The Illusive Man?"

Mordin Solus folded his arms. "Unexpected for you to greet us yourself." He glanced around the shuttle bay, taking in the ranks of combat shuttles and fighters.

Harper smiled tightly. "It is only one of several facilities, Doctor Solus. And – "

He broke off as the far doors opened, and Solus' eyes widened.

The figure stepping through the doorway was tall, clad head to foot in thick white armor that by now was instantly recognizable, and followed by the single largest krogan Mordin had ever seen in person. She walked up slowly towards the group, coming to a stop next to Miranda.

Trellani smiled faintly. "I suspect Mr. Taylor, Ms. Goto and I all need medical attention at this point, but it might be of some use to get the introductions and usual gawping disbelief out of the way."

Kasumi Goto frowned. "...we're working for the Butcher? Trellani-sama, I didn't know Cerberus had so many aliens in it."

Trellani's soft laugh made Shepard smirk. "They would surprise you, sometimes. But I fear the Butcher is just a story."

Mordin tilted his head. "Cover identity? Hiding from the Thirty perhaps?"

Shepard tapped her helmet controls, revealing her features. There was a long moment of silence in the shuttle bay.

Goto tapped her two index fingers together after a moment. "Um...aren't you dead?"

Shepard folded her arms. "I was. They brought me back."

The younger woman's eyes widened in the shadow of her cowl, but Mordin stepped forward. "Unexpected. Completely unexpected. Thought possible dissident, based on evidence of Council report, possible survival of...never mind. How possible? Stasis fields would not preserve body. Use of – "

Shepard held up one hand. "Once we get you briefed, Doctor...Solus? I'm sure Miranda and the other doctors who actually performed the procedures will be more than happy to brag how goddamned smart they were and how it works." She exhaled. "For now, I understand there's some extremely important intelligence Ms. Goto has."

The thief slumped slightly. "Hai. It … well. It's really bad. It got my … fiancee killed, and my best friend. And...it's not something you can forget. If it got out..." Her voice was hollow, tired sounding. Taylor gave her a squeeze on the shoulder, and she gave him a grateful smile, before lifting her head.

Harper had been looking worriedly at Trellani. "Shepard, not to delay, but several of them could use some medical attention. Go ahead and have Miranda set up your central conference room."

Shepard nodded. "Pressly, can you take our guests who need it to medical?" She glanced uncertainly at the two assassins. "You two need anything?"

Kai Leng shook his head. "We have yet another mission – "

Pel cut him off with a glare. "Actually, a goddamned shower, some grub and a few hours of downtime when we're not being chased by a Broker cruiser to catch some Z's would be great, lady."

Shepard nodded. "Vigil, find Jack, tell her to come escort her pen pals to get something to eat and whatever else they need."

Kai shook his head, but Pel brightened. Shepard glanced at Harper and Petrovsky. "If .. I might have a few minutes with the General..."

Petrovsky snorted. "Go on, Jack. I'll catch up." He watched as people filed out of the shuttle bay before turning to Shepard. "It is good to see you … well, alive at least."

She folded her arms. "Why Cerberus, sir? You didn't seem like the kind of guy back when you bailed me out last time to go for the whole human supremacy thing."

He sighed. "I joined Cerberus for one reason. My friend was in it, and he was losing sight of who he was, and what he'd started it for." He exhaled. "Jack is … was … a good man at one time. He lost a lot of what made him good, and keeping him in the light is a constant battle between myself and his asari."

Shepard frowned. "Trellani?"

He nodded. "Perhaps you haven't noticed, but she's fucking crazy."

Shepard gave a wide smirk. "Yeah, that kind of stands out. "

He nodded, eyes fixed on her. "I will not begrudge her quarrel with the Thirty – some of what we have uncovered about them is monstrous beyond the darkest nightmares of the Alliance. But her hatreds have made him more willing to accept extreme reactions to what should be simple problems."

She nodded. She could respect the idea of not abandoning your friends, especially when they needed help. "Alright. But …"

Petrovsky smiled. "I'm fairly sure I know why you distrust Cerberus. And ultimately, Shepard, it doesn't matter if you trust or distrust. In fact, distrust is fine in my eyes – as long as you work with us to the fullest extent. I'm briefed in on every aspect of what Cerberus does, and while there are one or two projects you would dislike...none of them are violating the rights of aliens or committing crimes against decency."

He sighed. "But Trellani's plans won't fit in such neat categories. And at some point, if we ever expect to able to work with the Citadel Council, Jack is going to have to choose between Trellani or you. The Thirty fear her and have been trying to kill her for years."

Shepard sneered. "Shock, the Thirty being unreasonable cunts." She sighed. "Anyway, I just wanted to get your...take on things. You still don't seem like the type to be in league with Cerberus."

Petrovsky smiled again. "Then you should stop defining Cerberus by its past actions, and start asking yourself what you think it should be, Shepard. The fact is, with the organization as it stands now, you have just as much impact on how it will act in the future as Harper does. The vision of Rachel was for it to be a sword to decapitate the Council and show humanity's strength. Harper sees it as a safeguard against aliens doing to us what they did to the krogan and quarians."

She folded her arms. "And you?"

He walked away from her slightly, coming to a stop a few feet away, hands folded behind his back as he stared at the endless stars visible through the hangar bay doors. "To me, Cerberus is insurance. I've been exposed to enough of what the other species are up to... to realize keeping our own hands clean is simply naive arrogance."

He glanced over his shoulder. "One could argue that you don't need to use depravity to ensure survival, or that doing so means you've become a monster. But that isn't the case, nor should it ever be. I would much rather be a monster and keep the innocents in the Alliance alive than have my conscience clean and watch them be destroyed."

She shook her head. "And when it goes too far, and you end up cutting up aliens and doing shit like NOVENSILES?"

He snorted. "NOVENSILES is something the High Lords have … backed. Then again, that is what happens when you give unlimited power to the privileged." He turned to face her. "But to answer your real question in a way you won't like Shepard...so what?"

His expression darkened. "The salarians are experimenting on and destroying thousands of salarian eggs every year. They are dissecting human, asari and drell slaves to cook up ways to Genophage us or worse – tens of thousands of such have died in their labs. As a precaution. The Thirty have been using the Nightwind – ardat-yakshi – and worse to corrupt and control their own people for millennia."

She grimaced, but shook her head. "So what? What good does it do to sink ourselves to that kind of fucking bullshit? Is it going to stop them from doing it to us?"

He smiled crookedly. "That isn't the point, ultimately. There is a big difference in being willing to engage in less than salubrious things – like the SA's work with the Thorian – and in tossing aside all decency for the sake of staying in power. The things Cerberus did in the past – before Richard and Rachel took it all to hell – were those kind of Faustian bargains so many people seem to hate."

He exhaled. "Blowing up freighters to force eezo dustings of our citizens. Killing a Pope who would have weakened the Neo-Catholic church in the name of harmony with the asari. Assassinations of politicians and business leaders co-opted – or corrupted – by alien influences. Sabotaging defensive installations to allow pirates to slip through and do damage, to drum up military spending."

He sighed. "None of that was … designed to put Cerberus into a position of power. It was to burn away weakness in the Alliance. To do the ugly acts no one else wanted to. Not doing those things would have made us weaker."

He looked at her. "When I joined the military, I did so to protect my home, my family. My people. I had no ideas of what aliens were up to. As I aged, and learned, and saw, I came to realize the darkness isn't in the people – human or alien. It is in their leaders, who will do anything to hang on to power."

He adjusted his uniform. "That's why I tell myself I am here – to make sure Cerberus sticks to acting only when it must, and never to pursue power. To not let us get carried away."

Shepard shook her head. "And you have no problems with that?"

Petrovsky turned to face her. "It isn't a matter of having problems with it. It's a matter of being honest about the alternatives. I don't want to have to kill humans. I don't want Cerberus to have to act like it did in the past. I certainly don't want it to be twisted into something it wasn't, because Trellani hates the Thirty and is dragging us into a conflict with them."

He folded his arms. "But I'm not going to blind myself to the truth, either. There will come a time where we may have to take ugly action to prevent worse things from happening to humanity." He walked over towards her, and smiled. "That isn't the kind of truth you want to face."

She looked at him, before looking away. "I don't seem to have much choice, sir. Trying to do things the right way only got me and everyone I cared about horribly killed." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I need to do some more thinking. Thank you for letting me get your view."

He nodded. "Shepard, this is much like the situation with General Adams and I. Both he and I strongly felt we were each trying to do the right thing and that the other person was missing the point. Hindsight is, and always will be, 20/20. And yet it doesn't help us with making the right choices at the time of the problem."

He glanced down as his omni-tool illuminated. "Ah. Harper says they're ready to brief Ms. Goto and Doctor Solus. Shall we go?"

She nodded. "Might as well get this over with."

**O-TWCD-O**

As it turned out, it took about twenty minutes to get Kasumi patched up enough that Sedanya felt comfortable with her sitting down talking. The conference room was large, with thick leather liquid-mount chairs arranged around a wooden conference table studded with haptic projectors.

Shepard glanced down at the conference table, at the innocuous shape of the gray-box sitting in the dataport to one side. "I understand this is some hot intel?"

Jack Harper sat at one end of the table, with Miranda and Trellani flanking him. The latter had been cleaned up and was now wearing a silvery jumpsuit, but her arm was still in a sling. Doctor Solus sat next to Kelly Chambers, with Tali and Trudy, the ex-AIS officer who was the intelligence coordinator for the base, sitting further down.

Kasumi Goto sat at the far end, near the gray-box, a medical package over her thigh. She nodded as Shepard finished speaking. "Hai. I should probably start from the beginning. I am a thief. A good thief. A hacker, spy, whatever. I've been doing this for a long time, mostly for the thrill of doing it, but also because I needed the money."

She looked a little worried, but Shepard shrugged. "I don't care about property crimes. From what I've been told you stole from a lot of rich assholes, some of whom were involved in shadier shit than theft."

Goto nodded, giving a hard, thin smile. "Well, that's a relief, taicho. Nice to know you won't kill me for being a criminal. You ...ah, have that reputation."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Go on."

She nodded. "I didn't work alone. I helped a friend of mine with getting money to fix herself up after nearly being killed. Sometimes I donated the stuff I stole to the people who needed it. Eventually, I was nearly caught when I got tangled up with another thief. Keiji Okuda was the estranged son of an Alliance High Command admiral. We ended up together, and in love … not important to what we found."

She took a shaky breath, and Shepard winced. She watched the woman wipe her eyes, and refocus herself. From what little she knew about the thief, Okuda had been her fiance, and brutally murdered by forces unknown. Kasumi had originally thought it had been Cerberus, but later came to realize the killers were actually from the Alliance itself.

Kasumi's soft voice spoke again. "We got into a lot of secure databases over the years. The Broker hired us quite a bit, and because people knew Keiji as Admiral Okuda's son, trusted him with little bits of information they probably should not have. Nothing big, but enough that we could leverage it into more access."

She rubbed her fingertips together. "We were about to get out of the whole business. It was getting dangerous. Lots of runs ended up with us barely getting out clean. And so we did our final run together, and it was one of the biggest. A strange man hired us to do a deep penetration of the Black Network, the datastore of the Alliance's Omega-classification projects."

Trudy gasped. "That's impossible. The Black Network isn't connected to the extranet, or even the internal governmental networks. You'd need physical access points to get in."

The thief smiled. "Normally you would be right, we wouldn't have had a chance. There was some kind of traitor, someone associated with Cerberus who'd had apparently sold out to the person we met, a man called Barnes."

Harper grimaced. "Armistan Barnes. His sudden death makes more sense now." He glanced at Shepard. "Barnes was the Cerberus link to the AIS, and he did have Black Network access. It's how we learned of NOVENSILES, him and … another source."

Shepard nodded. "Before you go on, tell us about this strange man who hired you."

Kasumi bit at her lip. "Like I said he was strange. Male, in his late forties – black hair, little gray at the temples. He looked tired the four times we spoke to him, and he spoke in a pure monotone. Emotionless."

She leaned back. "He fronted us half the money for the run up front – two million credits – and didn't even bother to check we wouldn't skip town on him. When I mentioned it as a sort of joke, he gave the deadest smile I've ever seen and told us we would have never survived trying to cheat him."

She shivered. "And he knew things – things no one should have been able to know. He knew the entire patrol routines of the automated defenses of the Black Sector. He knew pass-codes, FTL lanes, everything."

Harper traded glances with Miranda, then took a sip of the drink he'd obtained from the small bar on one side of the meeting room. "I see. A new player...or possibly a Broker front."

Kasumi shook her head. "I really doubt he was from the Broker. We had done a lot of business with him, and this wasn't his contact. Also, he gave us software that was nothing like the Broker used." She paused. "I got the feeling he was working for someone else, but getting information out of him was almost impossible."

Shepard rubbed her chin. "Alright, so what happened?"

Goto nodded. "Anyway, the man – who only called himself Mr. Recondite, real cute – had this Barnes person set up a sort of back-door into the system. Problem was, it required us to split up – one of us had to be on Earth, and one had to physically travel out to the Black Zone. It was a ludicrous hack, but we were getting paid like crazy – and I'll admit, I wanted to see just what was so important about the Black Zone."

She exhaled. "I set up on Earth, near a comm relay used by the Commissars. Keiji got on a ship Mr. Recondite gave us, and headed out to the Black Zone. When we got there, there was some kind of terrorist attack on Earth that put the Silver Legion out of commission for a full day."

Harper nodded. "I remember that. The source was unknown – I always presumed it was the Broker or STG, but neither made any moves in time to capitalize on it."

She nodded slowly. "We started the hack programs up, and somehow it let us in .. I don't know. Some kind of polymorphic VI, which did the searching and pulled back several files."

She frowned. "Why it pulled these back, I don't know... We were expecting a more conventional hack, but instead Keiji was told to simply upload what he took into his gray-box. He tried a little poking around himself but the system was too weird."

She looked up. "When he was done, he disconnected and began making his way out. He commed me with his take. What we found wasn't anything that made sense. The network wasn't organized the way a normal one would be, and the VI had pulled back several large A/V files. The last two were the biggest, and Keiji was still uploading the second and third through his gray box to while going over the first one."

She sighed. "He got out of the Black Zone, and then ...was ambushed and killed when he got to our planned rendezvous at Brookson III. I barely escaped Earth alive – the minute he was ambushed, a kill-team of guys in black mil-spec armor and heavy weapons blew the shit out of my location, and by the time I made it to the spaceport the Commissars had announced I was wanted for high treason."

"I'd already set up my escape ship, but I'm paranoid, so I also had a backup. By the time I got to the hangars, the entire bay was stiff with Commissars and Guard of Iron types. I got to my secondary and managed to get out of Sol, but most of my bank accounts were cracked and drained, and our boltholes on almost a dozen worlds were taken out."

Harper puffed his cigarette thoughtfully. "And Mr. Okuda?"

Goto's face twisted. "Dead. Shot point blank and left for dead – right next to the body of Mr. Recondite, also shot in the head. Did a records trace on him – he was a mineral engineer until eight years back, then he just … disappeared. He had zero tech background – he was a driller for Ashland-Eldfell. Nothing made sense."

She gave a thin smile. "They had taken his gray-box, but it was encrypted with memories he and I shared, so whoever had it couldn't use it or find out what was on it. I knew from the parts he'd talked about that the first file had something to do with batarians, but that was it."

She looked at Shepard. "With no leads, I reached out to the Broker for help. In return for doing a bunch of jobs for him – mostly for free – he gave me what intel he could, and helped me find out who killed him. He was interested in buying the data, and more interested in who sponsored the run."

She glanced at Harper. "He told me that it was Cerberus who killed Keiji, to keep the data from getting out."

Harper lit a cigarette. "Or rather, framed us as being behind such acts. While I don't doubt Cerberus would have done such a thing, we were focused on other endeavors."

Goto nodded. "Long story short, I found out that Donovan Hock had his gray-box. Hock was a slimy businessman with his hands in a lot of merc companies and shady wet work groups, as well as working with Aria and her people. Hock got the gray-box off of some other group – the ones who killed Keiji – since Hock had access to some heavy hardware for cracking encryption. Some things we found at his party suggested whoever hired him to crack the gray-box wasn't human, but he didn't leave details."

She sighed. "I'm not sure who told him, but Hock eventually figured out that the gray-box couldn't be read without my own gray-box, so he framed me and my partner Ghost-step for the hack. The Broker agreed to help me get it back, but stopped helping me when I decided not to try and kill some people on Earth for him."

Goto glanced at the gray-box. "The rest, well. Eventually, I figured out Cerberus didn't have anything to do with Keiji's death. I made some discreet inquiries, and Cerberus stopped a kill-team of Broker agents from taking me out. We went in after the gray-box..." She traced a finger over it. "...which is all I have to remember Keiji by. But I don't know what to do with what he found out."

She looked up, across the faced. "I reviewed all three files on the way here. And while I don't know who was behind this hack, I do know why they wanted the data. What Keiji found is enough to cause the Alliance to completely collapse, to spark off wars between Citadel races, and to make the Citadel invade the Batarian Empire. In short, complete societal collapse and all out war."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "If the stuff is that sensitive, then why the hell are you even alive?"

Goto shrugged. "I don't think the AIS – or the Commissars – knew what exactly we took. If they did, the Alliance would have blown up Bekenstein to stop this from getting out."

Shepard leaned forward. "What is on the gray-box?"

Goto met her gaze. "Three large files. Each file had video components as well as supplementary data. The first was the report of a deep AIS strike against the Batarians. The Batarian Empire found what Trellani-sama has now told me was the corpse of a Reaper. They took possession of it, and transported it to Khar'shan."

Shepard cursed. "A complete Reaper wreck, wonderful."

Harper's eyes narrowed. "That would be very dangerous if it got out. I presume the file has more?"

Goto nodded. "Lots of plans and operational details about how the AIS planned to go in and take it from the Batarians, along with ways to keep the Citadel Council from finding out about it. This file was dated almost a year BEFORE Eden Prime, though, so no one knew it was a Reaper back then."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "While certainly significant, I don't see why it would cause huge issues."

The thief smiled weakly. "The video portion showed the Emperor discussing various options for researching it...including inviting Aria's people in to take a look. Imagine her fleet with any sort of Reaper technology."

Shepard winced, while Harper nodded. "The Council would react harshly to any signs of a real alliance between Aria and the Batarian Emperor – and letting Aria have Reaper technology is a bad idea. I'm more intrigued by the concept of what killed said Reaper in the first place."

Goto sighed. "The second file was related to a project called NOVENSILES. It was flagged as 'Trigger Justification'. It was something P. sold the AIS, apparently – a meeting between the some salarians and asari, talking about humans."

Shepard leaned forward. "A meeting?"

The thief nodded, tapping her omni-tool. "This one is cleaned up enough I can actually show you." The holoprojector hooked to the gray-box lit up, and grainy haptic images appeared above the table.

On the left was a salarian dalatrass, in the ritual purple-blue robes with red trim. Doctor Solus made a small sound of distress. "Sister."

Harper explained, "Muvai Solus, Dalatrass of the Solus Family." The doctor glanced at him briefly , then looked at the other person in the image.

Trellani's voice was like ice. "And Matriarch Thessial of Clan Steelshape."

Thessial, a thin, almost hard-faced asari, was pacing back and forth. "This won't work the way you think it will, Muvai."

The salarian dalatrass sat in a chair next to a curved metal table. Little was visible of the background except a wide armaglass portal showing the skyline of Surkean, a city on Sur'kesh. "Nonsense. Plan viable, with some correction. Already have buy-in from Anoleis. Can keep out of sight, no direct connections to you or I."

Thessial turned to face her. "You're talking about me turning against the Thirty." She ran her hand over her crest. "I grasp the need for it, but it is still too dangerous."

Muvai's expression narrowed. "You saw projections. No good viable outcomes. Asari plan to subsume humanity will tip scales – the SIX will react. Pathogens already being tested on human slaves. Lethality rates higher than 95%."

Thessial shuddered. "And you think this plan will change that?"

Muvai nodded. "SIX will react based on relative power. Change power baseline, change reaction. Killing off humanity last, worst option – but SIX will do it. If project succeeds, salarian power eclipses asari power. Human integration not speedy enough to tip scales – Thirty thrown down."

Thessial sighed. "Either way will lead to open war."

Muvai shrugged. "True. SIX also considering pathogen to work on asari. Trigger widespread expression of ardat-yakshi gene sequence malform. Being developed by 'rogue' salarians in human space. Will turn Thirty against humans, cripple you all."

Thessial whirled. "And you went along with this?"

Muvai sighed. "No. But out-voted. SIX focused on Makana, Alteration Framework. Thus...either change parameters of game..or change game. Your choice. Need your help. With this...salarians powerful, asari get to take over humanity, no mass epidemics. Without..." She made a tipping gesture with her hands, and Thessial shuddered again."

The video clipped off, and Shepard sat back in her chair, stunned. "...Doctor Solus..."

The salarian looked beyond agitated, eyes wide, hands shaking. "...no. Cannot be accurate."

Trellani's voice was gentle. "I strongly doubt it is fake. We have our own … sources that have heard hints of projects the Union is planning to use against humans. No proof, but hints."

Shepard looked at Jack Harper. "So, what is this 'Alteration Framework'? Do we know?"

The Illusive Man steepled his fingers. "So far, we only have bits and pieces. It is some sort of transmortal genetic advancement project – like a more advanced version of NOVENSILES, I think. The ultimate goal seems to be correcting any flaws in the salarian genome and adding new abilities. We don't have the kind of penetration needed into the STG to determine anything else."

Mordin had calmed himself, and stared hard at Harper. "My sister would do anything to protect Salarian Union. Has already done experiments. Aware of Alteration Framework. Surmise is mostly correct...no details were given, but I was to come home. To work on it. Told it would transform salarian people entirely."

He tapped his fingers on the table. "But other project – no details, no hints of what it is – not Alteration Framework, so something else."

Trellani's eyes narrowed. "Something that would risk turning the Clans away from the Thirty. That would throw the Asari Republic into chaos. Pity there are no details, but even the conversation is damning enough."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "It does look pretty bad. Doctor Solus, not to pry, but do you know of anything that could be the project they are talking about?"

There was an edge of anger in the old salarian's voice. "No. Removed myself from STG, from family business. From Union entirely. Have done things I regret. Choices mine, outcomes mine. Had to take a stand somewhere. Reaper threat more important than salarian and asari competition." The doctor glanced down at the table. "Still, did not know SIX would go so far as to poison humans, asari."

Harper grimaced. "This file alone could cause the entire Council to collapse. However, it is also a powerful tool for bringing the salarians to heel. I'm not above blackmailing them with it to gain their cooperation."

Shepard sighed, but it was Trellani who spoke next. "You said there were three file groupings...what was the third?"

Goto shivered. "The worst. It was Jacen Manswell's journal entries just before he killed himself."

Shepard frowned. "Those were made public."

Goto shook her head. "No – those entries were complete forgeries." She swallowed. "The real ones … he had been putting together things, doing research on the Days of Iron. And he discovered that Victor Manswell … was the primary backer and provided the finances to Emperor Ardiente."

The room was absolutely silent as Kasumi continued. "Victor used shell companies to move scientists he would need later on out of areas of conflict. He funded the extremists in the Middle East, Europe, China and America to start problems. He convinced the Japanese keibatsu to back Ardiente in secret, and ... he gave Ardiente the research to produce the Bowls of Wrath."

Shepard found herself voiceless as the thief continued to speak. "He built the Zurich station because he knew what was coming...he planned it. The Chu destabilized China by having most of the Politburo killed, the Coleman family did the same in America to weaken it. He bought up big plots of land in out of the way places and had built up bases and supply depots two years before Ardiente started his attack."

Her voice hardened. "Victor's hackers made the situation worse during the fighting, and his people were the ones responsible for the backpack nuclear weapons. He set it all up...and then went around collecting the pieces he'd already put into place, making himself out as a heroic savior."

Harper leaned back in his chair, face troubled. "...why in the name of God did the Alliance not destroy this document?"

Goto sighed. "I have no idea. I don't think they knew it was on the system at all, myself. If they had known, I can't imagine I'd be alive, or that they wouldn't have destroyed Bekenstein to get at the data and stop its release."

Shepard shook her head. "Victor Manswell killed _billions_ of people, just so he could take over the world?" She realized she was trembling, and wanted to scream at the sheer evil of it all.

Harper's voice sounded old, and almost tired. "The High Lords have to be removed. But this...if this got out, the Alliance would collapse."

Miranda grimaced. "There would be riots. I do not even know how the Commissars would react - the leadership has its conditioning removed after all. Even if they supported the High Lords, they cannot suppress the riots that would break out. The colonies would rebel...the Fleet itself might rebel!"

Shepard looked up. "If the High Lords edited Jacen Manswell's suicide notes, and his journals – that means they knew the truth. The bastards knew and kept it quiet and blamed the Fall on 'corrupt governments' and the people."

Trellani's voice was solemn. "From their point of view, no doubt they felt they had no choice but to hide the truth. Yet, is this also not a method we could use to bring the Alliance – or at least the High Lords – to heel, if they oppose Shepard?"

Harper laughed hollowly. "Perhaps. I …" For once, the Illusive Man had no words.


	25. Arc II: All In

_**A/N**:_

_So, the other half of the chapter. I'm afraid this one (and the next one) is mostly going to be dialogue and non-actiony. Omega is coming soon though.  
_

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. They deserve more credit than I do.  
_

_As usual - go review **Living an Indoctrinated Dream**_ _by Aberron and __**Total Eclipse: An Asari Commando Novel **by RED78910.__  
_

* * *

_'I fear there are crimes for which there can be no pardon, and works so vile no amount of apology or remuneration will redeem. When the means are a worse atrocity than the ends pursued seek to correct, what you have left over is not sacrifice, but defilement.'  
_

_\- Jacen Manswell, Actual Suicide Manifesto (unpublished)  
_

* * *

The figures sitting at the table were silent for long seconds, until Shepard spoke in a quiet, firm voice.

"Okay. I'm not the sharpest tack in this room, but something is bothering me about this." Shepard glanced at the gray-box. "A bunch of things actually. Harper is right – why in FUCK wouldn't the SA just delete this shit?"

Harper had taken a very stiff drink, and his eyes narrowed. "The file may have been hidden. The High Lords themselves are very dependent on their staffs... if one was clever, a good data manager could have tucked it away anywhere. We know so little about the Black Network that finding anything like that without knowing exactly where it was would be impossible."

He blew out cigarette smoke. "That also means whoever knew of this was probably planning to use it at some point. Possibly as leverage... or to derail the entire system of governance."

Shepard grimaced. "Who in the hell would benefit from that? I have problems believing it could be anybody outside the SA who got access to this."

Harper grimaced, and glanced at Trudy. "A very good question. The file must have been saved for some reason, and few have access to the Black Network. Did the AIS have any inkling of this information?"

Trudy shook her head, shock still on her features. "No. I knew rumors about some kind of black op that went bad in batarian space, and bits of NOVENSILES being an answer to the salarians and asari doing something like it, but that's all. This..." She shook her head a second time.

Petrovsky sighed. "Jack, there's no one person who had this kind of access and the ability to pull all three pieces of this together."

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. I mean, think about this – some weirdo with impossible levels of access hires Goto and her fiance to do an impossible hack. He somehow knows exactly what he wants in a system that you can't even view remotely, gives them everything they need to do it, then obviously sets them up to get killed after the hack is completed. Yet the weirdo gets his own head ventilated as well. Why?"

Kasumi sighed. "I've been trying to figure that out since this entire mess started, Taicho. The fact that it ended up with a man like Hock … whoever gave it to him knew he would use it. The man was slime, he'd have tried to blackmail someone with it."

Shepard nodded. "So someone expected this shit to get out... but couldn't release it themselves. Someone trying to stay out of the line of sight." She rubbed her chin. "But why get the data at all?"

Trellani's voice was wry. "There is only one reason why. Releasing all of this would, as you have already surmised, start a galactic war. There is only one party I can think of that would gain from having us fighting one another instead of working together."

Shepard gave her a look. "You're saying the fucking _Reapers_ are behind this?"

The slender matriarch shrugged. "We don't have a way of knowing, but indoctrination is a possibility. I am saying that there is no other party that we know of who would benefit. That is not to say there is not another player we do not know of..."

Harper sighed. "We have enough players in this game already, to the point where even I am having difficulty planning ahead." He exhaled. "How does this fit in with our own plans is the question we must address."

The Illusive Man turned to Shepard. "With this data, we have leverage – just the tool we need to bring the Alliance to heel, and to get an in with the Council. It would be pointless to not use such things."

Shepard nodded, then got a strange look on her face. "...maybe. Although it also makes us a huge target for having such knowledge, doesn't it?"

Trellani nodded. "All such things are double-edged blades. The water brings life but will drown you if one is unwise." She glanced at Mordin. "Not to mention that the good Doctor is also... a wild-card of sorts. You are in a position to communicate this to the STG, after all."

Mordin sniffed. "Not a fool. STG Master would have me killed for even knowing such things. Also, idea that sister is involved in immoral acts... troubling. Not willing to risk galactic war when it can be avoided."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright. Is there any more bad news, Goto?"

The small thief shook her head. "No, aside from... personal memories, that was all that was on the gray-box. I haven't made any progress in figuring out who hired us, or how exactly the gray-box got to Hock. He got several large cash payments from some firms in the Traverse, but by the time I checked them out, they were all bankrupt and shut down – and all the employees were missing persons."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Because that's not creepy at all." She sighed. "So, in short – the Alliance's leadership is even a bigger pile of steaming fucks than I thought possible. At least one salarian dalatrass is working with an asari matriarch to do something, while the Union plans to genocide humanity and the asari apparently want to make us a 'client state' - and even I can guess what the fuck that means. Oh, and the motherfucking batarians have lost their goddamned minds and are fucking with a full-on Reaper corpse."

She glanced around the table. "Frankly, the first two are not as bad as the last. If the Batarian Emperor is indoctrinated...that would explain some of why Balak was doing the bullshit he was up to."

Petrovsky scowled. "That may be so...but that still doesn't explain why didn't the Alliance move on this shit when they found out about the Reapers? Surely someone would have put two and two together."

Miranda spoke. "The only reason I can think of is that the few people who knew about the data on the Batarians taking the Reaper corpse were not briefed... but there were enough images of Nazara in the fight at the Citadel for them to have seen the resemblance, surely."

Harper shrugged. "Given the reluctance the Alliance has shown in getting involved in the Reaper situation so far - which may or may not have to do with Hades doing Reaper research - they may have had alternative ideas about how to 'deal' with the problem." He glanced at the thief. "Do you know if the AIS was involved in this situation after the recovery of the data?"

Kasumi tapped her fingertips together. "The AIS had plans to go in after the corpse, but apparently they were re-tasked to deal with the fallout from Saren investigating some firms on Noveria. I don't know how many AIS agents had access to the file, but the same team that found the original data was sent in for a second raid about five months before Eden Prime blew up. They were caught and executed by the SIU. There wasn't a follow up – but no reason was given."

Shepard sat back. Harper rubbed his chin. "I had my agents investigate the Batarian Hegemony some time ago, before the situation that caused its collapse to occur. My people found strange biotechnology in use by the military and government, and fragmentary evidence of the Emperor being able to shrug off wounds by use of what could only be called blue wiring."

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "Like Saren and Benezia."

Harper nodded. "Quite."

Shepard stared at the table a few seconds before looking up. "Alright. Before we do anything else, I need a straight answer here, Harper. What do you plan to do about this?"

Jack Harper sat back. "About?"

She waved her hand vaguely at the gray-box. "All of it."

He met her gaze with his own. "As you said, the direst threat is that of the Emperor being indoctrinated. Given that the Batarian Empire has shrunk its borders but still retains the large portion of its fleets, direct assault is impossible. Cerberus does not have the resources to match the entire Batarian Imperial navy."

He paused. "I suspect a covert approach is also unfeasible. Any research they are doing will no doubt be on Khar'shan itself, and we have no need of such intel when we already have the file of them taking the Reaper. The simplest thing to do would be alert the Citadel Council and have them take direct action."

Shepard frowned. "That would touch off a war."

Petrovsky shrugged. "It would. But then again, that would no doubt spur military buildups, which we'll need when the Reapers show up."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I got that. But it takes months or years to build up a ship, and minutes to lose one if the Batarians put up a good fight. We don't know what technology they have access to from studying Reaper crap."

Harper gave a small nod to Shepard. "You are correct, a full scale war at this time is inadvisable. However, we do not have other options. The threat of the Batarians becoming agents of the Reapers - allowing them a beachhead, so to speak - is one we cannot simply ignore. And it will certainly distract the Council from what we plan to do, in dealing with the Collectors, while reinforcing the danger of the Reapers."

He took a sip of his drink. "Combined with the other facts on the gray-box, reaching some level of accommodation with the Council and the Alliance should be possible."

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "I'm not really thinking about being accommodating to the High Lords, Harper."

He sighed. "Like it or not, taking them down would be extremely difficult. The High Lords, at the very least, will be very leery of opposing us while we can release such data to the rest of the Alliance. Combined with us being able to expose NOVENSILES, and they would quickly grasp that if they did not meet our demands, they would be destroyed."

He glanced at his cigarette, which had gone out, and relit it. "Ideally, I'd like the High Lords to be removed. I'm sure they would oppose that, but ultimately they will have to go. The entire fabric that the Alliance was built on is tainted. But we also have to be cautious. If Victor Manswell dipped to such atrocity, there is no doubt Maxwell would do the same if pushed. I am beginning to doubt Jacen Manswell's death was actually suicide."

Shepard shrugged. "Isn't it possible he was so sick of his fucked up family that he did himself in?"

Harper's voice was flat. "I am disinclined to give the High Lords the benefit of the doubt at this juncture."

He puffed on his cigarette. "But in the short term, we can't afford to remove them. Releasing this data would throw the entire Alliance into chaos... and leave humanity vulnerable to manipulation from outside forces. Exposing NOVENSILES would also result in a probable attack on humanity when we can least afford it. I doubt we will come up with the best way to deal with the situation today."

Shepard folded her arms. "In other words, let them get away with it?"

Harper sighed, but Petrovsky spoke up. "Shepard, he's right. Taking them out now would only cause a gigantic civil war. Once we've dealt with the Collector threat – and possibly the batarian one – we can reconsider. But we just saw the proof that there are already plans by other races to take over or destroy humanity – this isn't the time, as... revolting as that is to admit."

She sighed. "...and long term?"

Harper answered her with a firm tone. "They have to be removed from power. NOVENSILES is proof enough that at the very least, the High Lords are not good leaders of humanity. "

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "And if we throw down the High Lords, who replaces them? You?"

Harper shook his head. "Hardly. We have a perfectly workable system of governance if you simply have elections to pick the Senators. Cerberus was never intended to rule anything...and I do not think that me being involved in the government in any fashion would go down well with the Citadel Council. Ultimately, though – that's a very long term concern, Shepard. We still have more urgent and immediate worries."

She nodded, mollified by his answer. "Like the things the dalatrass was talking about. How do we handle that?"

Harper sighed. "Carefully. The only way I see out of this mess is to ensure that humanity is not absorbed by the Asari Republic and to threaten the Salarians with exposure if they attempt anything like the Genophage against us. The asari issue..." He glanced at Trellani.

The matriarch's voice was cool and dry. "The Thirty have an agenda, but I strongly doubt they shared it with that drugged-up fool Thessial. Their timeframe will be such that you will all be dead before they make their moves." She made a sign of siari separation. "And yet, the Thirty are not immune to common sense, only resistant." She smiled. "If push comes to shove, I myself have information that can be used to make them... back off."

Shepard nodded slowly. "...Alright. For the moment, we can't do anything about any of this shit. We can't get at the Emperor, and killing all the High Lords isn't on the table. Releasing any of this shit would just start wars that weaken us."

She sighed. "Still, getting information about the batarians fucking around with Reapers cannot wait. You will handle dealing with this pile of intergalactic bullshit while I keep on the target."

Harper gave her an amused look as he sipped his drink. "Does this mean you have lost your reservations about us?"

Shepard snorted. "No. But I am pretty sure no matter what fucked up bullshit you may pull it won't be as bad as any of that." She pointed at the gray-box in disgust. "Besides, there's one more issue we still have to deal with – the asshole behind this getting out in the first place. We need to figure that out too, or maybe more bullshit will come out of the woodwork – for all we know, the originals of these files are still on the Black Network."

Harper glanced at Petrovksy. "Have Rasa and Brooks meet with me once we get back to the station. Perhaps they can find out more." He paused, thinking. "I'll use the line of communication that the Spectre agents chasing you opened up and try to convey the information regarding the Batarians having Reaper technology. At the very least, that should occupy their minds."

Shepard nodded, looking at Goto. "You have been briefed on what we're doing?"

The thief nodded. "Hai. I'm... well, I'm wanted by the Commissars and won't last long on my own. And your group is the only chance I have at finding whoever set this hack up and got Keiji killed. Besides, your team needs a good infiltrator, and I have some resources of my own on Omega that may come in handy."

Shepard nodded. "Alright, then. We'll talk later, after we finish this briefing." She turned to Mordin. "You have some intelligence for us as well, I'm assuming?"

The salarian nodded. "Yes. Almost as bad as that of Goto." He tapped his omni-tool. "You destroyed Thorian on Feros and another on Eingana, yes?"

Shepard nodded, not even liking where this was going. "Yeah, I did. They're dangerous."

Mordin nodded. "Indeed. However, Salarian Union found one. In communication with it."

Harper chuckled. "We were aware of that, doctor."

The salarian glanced at him. "Yes. STG Master surmised such. System heavily defended, infiltration impossible." He paused. "I was sent to communicate with Tho'ian, ask questions about Collectors."

The old salarian gave a small humming noise. "Collectors are Reaper-altered Protheans."

Shepard leaned back, frowning as she looked into her own memories. Her images of the Protheans from the Cipher were fragmented, but she could see it. "They do have the same head shape. But they move different..."

Vigil popped into existence over Shepard's shoulder. "Collectors do not even remotely resemble the indoctrinated troops the Reapers made of Protheans in the war. Those were more like armor-plated husks, green-gray in tone. These are... insectile."

Solus stared at the sphere. "Ah! Vigil, Inusannon AI. Thought destroyed, Citadel vexed. Curious choice, working for Cerberus, less resources – "

The sphere pulsed. "Breathe, primitive. Can you talk no slower?"

Mordin blinked. "Sorry. I – will – try – to – slow – down – no no no can't do it time is of essence need more data points."

Shepard gave the sphere a wry glance. "Nice of you to show up, shiny."

Vigil pulsed a second time. "I have been monitoring the discussion. Without Collector corpses to study, the Prothean link is … dubious. Humans and asari are nearly identical but are not the same, after all."

The salarian shrugged. "Only know what Tho'ian claimed. Suggested Collector weapons and engines were basically Prothean, upgraded slightly. Also implied Collectors could skip relays to come out at endpoints."

Shepard's eyes widened, as did several other people's at the table. "Wait, what?"

The doctor tapped his omni-tool displaying a small-scale map of the relay network near Omega. "Tho'ian claims relay switches can be toggled. Jump from relay to relay directly, not one by one. Requires advanced engine and computer technology. Option not available to us, mass effect cores not powerful enough."

Petrovsky stroked his goatee. "Explains how they're able to strike without being seen. But... that means they can hit almost anywhere."

Solus shook his head. "No. Tho'ian claims only certain distance possible. Limit to jumps, some wildcat colonies not on main trade lanes." He tapped several buttons on his omni-tool, and five systems were highlighted in red. "If Collectors using this method to avoid detection, only these five systems still vulnerable."

Shepard looked at the map. "Hm. Ferris Fields, Horizon, Harvest, Dalmysin and Rabow." She frowned. "Pretty scattered out. Horizon is the only colony big enough that it has any sort of real defenses. Not that those would do a lick of good, based on what we saw on Freedom's Progress." She sighed. "Anything else?"

Mordin nodded. "Tho'ian also identified swarm creatures. Prothean restraint technology."

Vigil gave a particularly strong pulse. "Ah. Servility Devices. That is... not what they used to look like."

Shepard glanced at the sphere. "Servility Devices?"

The sphere bobbed floating out over the table. "The Protheans were hardly a subtle or peace-loving culture. They subjugated all other races into their empire, often forcefully. The original devices were more akin to birds than giant insects, and were designed to biotically immobilize rioting populations."

Mordin nodded. "Tho'ian said much the same. Implied devices tuned to only one physiology at a time. Said they could be pushed back by biotic forces."

The sphere glowed for a second, before pulsing. "...that is a possibility, although one I would not wish to test in the field. The best way of avoiding them is spoofing their sensors. That was the biggest problem with the devices in the days of the Protheans … the recognition baselines were kept very narrow to avoid accidentally targeting peacekeeper units, which were always of a different race than the conquered."

Shepard leaned back. "So if they're set for humans... they won't pick up on other species. That's why they didn't do anything to that one quarian on Freedom's Progress until he started shooting."

Mordin nodded. "With sample of creatures, could determine best way to fool swarm sensing. Given size of unit, sensors limited. Should be possible." He paused. "Additional difficulty: STG Master knew about Reaper threat. Suggested the SIX saw it as distant threat. STG models showing otherwise ignored."

He took a deep breath. "STG Master surmises that Collectors scouting for Reaper invasion. Now taking samples."

Shepard felt a chill come over her, despite her artificial nature. "...samples for what?"

Mordin gave a thin smile. "In field science, one takes samples only of subjects of interest. Purpose currently unknown, but unlikely to be benign."

Shepard leaned back. "We know the five systems they're likely to strike in, and we have at least an idea on how to go about dealing with the swarms." She looked around the room. "Given we have no way to breach the Omega Four relay, our plan is still to attempt to board a Collector vessel and capture it?"

Harper nodded. "There might be other methods of breaching the Relay, but those would require operating in Omega for large periods of time with a study team aboard the Relay itself. Not only is Aria unlikely to allow this, but my intelligence sources tell me she's already sent people to try to enter the Relay structure and none have returned. Taking a Collector vessel weakens our enemy, gives us a method of assault, and provides both proof of what we have found and potential intel."

Shepard grimaced and nodded. "Then we need to figure out how we make our next moves. Doctor, what do you know about Archangel?"

Mordin's eyes narrowed slightly. "Curious question. Reason for asking?"

Shepard smiled. "Part of our mission is destroying the Shadow Broker, who seems to be feeding the Citadel Council bad intel...and was responsible for my death, and the destruction of my ship, as well as the death of my wife and friends. Archangel seems to have issues with the Broker, so we planned to ask him to join us."

Mordin nodded. "...know of him. Helped patch his group up several times, installed cyberware. Have contact of a sort with his group. Often provide medical services, covertly." He gave a small frown. "Situation was deteriorating when I left. Gangs uniting to oppose him. Not likely to survive full assault."

She smiled. "If we can get on Omega undetected, can you get in contact with him?"

The doctor nodded. "Risky, but should be possible. Security has increased since the Burning of Omega, however."

Kasumi made a scoffing sound. "Please. You may have issues, but I won't. How many people do you plan to bring?"

Shepard considered this. "We don't know what we'll be walking into... so probably as many as I can, plus mechs."

Kasumi thought a moment. "If you change up the registry on one of the pinnaces, I can get it to a dock. As long as you aren't trying to ship eezo, and they know who you are, the dock people don't care much. Moving around on the station is harder, but you could load everybody into a cargo truck and move around that way."

Trudy was examining her omni-tool. "The latest news says the gangs are closing in on Archangel's location. We probably don't have a lot of time."

Shepard nodded slowly. "At the very least, we need to get Ms. Goto and Mr. Taylor's wounds dealt with, and let Doctor Solus start on the labs and determining what he needs to do his job. I'll need to meet with both Doctor Solus and Ms. Goto later on today."

She glanced at Miranda. "Work with Pressly, make sure we're ready to move by no later than tomorrow evening. I assume we have a pinnace we can strip down and make it look... weathered?"

Miranda nodded. "Several. Do you have a plan for the Omega operation?"

Shepard leaned back. "It's pretty simple. We get there on the pinnace while the Normandy itself enters the system using stealth. Kasumi gets us in. Doctor Solus gets us communications with Archangel. We extract him and get out on the pinnace, with the Normandy covering us. If something goes bad we can dock the pinnace in the Normandy and punch out."

Kasumi gave a small nod. "It may work. But Omega is not a very nice place, Taicho. Archangel's attacks have weakened all the gangs, but Aria's people are more dominant than ever, and they have some pretty intense security measures."

Shepard nodded. "I figured that. But if the gangs are hunting Archangel, it is only a matter of time before he's found out. A full assault is suicidal. And I doubt Aria will be much help. At least we have a method of possibly contacting him, and through someone he trusts."

Mordin hummed thoughtfully. "Most communication done with one of his group. Erash. Establishing communication may be difficult. Usually group reaches out to me."

Shepard frowned. "So you don't know where he is located?"

The salarian shook his head. "No. Group highly secretive. Know a few, but not many. Still, expect some of them must be hurt by now, perhaps left message at clinic." He gave her a thin smile. "Will know more when we get there."

Shepard nodded. "Alright then." She stood. "Miranda, please take Doctor Solus to the lab area. Kelly, can you please escort Ms. Goto back to medical?"

The redhead nodded, and Shepard glanced at the Illusive Man. "I need a few minutes with Jack here. I'll be down to talk to you both in a bit."

The room emptied, except for Harper and Trellani. The asari matriarch looked amused.

Shepard narrowed her eyes, and then fixed her gaze onto Harper. Pulling a cigarette out of her pocket, she lit it and blew out smoke before speaking. "What I just heard … had made me reconsider a few things. It's clear now that the Alliance is pretty much irrevocably fucked. Maybe they had good reasons for the shit they pulled, but it's all founded on the work of a man who unleashed Ardiente on the Earth and nearly killed us all. I can never back that."

Harper nodded slowly. "There is a reason I designed Cerberus to defend humanity, and not the Alliance. When I first wrote my manifesto, I was already … disturbed … at how they chose to handle Shanxi. I did not expect to hear what we just did … yet, after the shock has passed, I find myself ultimately not that astonished at the revelation." He took a sip of his drink. "The question is, what do you plan to do about it?"

Shepard snorted. "That depends on you. I think it's time for me to hear your long range plans"

Harper leaned back in the leather chair, folding his hands together. "I've already told you. My concern is the protection of humanity's future. That doesn't change, regardless of the methods or tools I use."

Shepard glanced at Trellani. "And you?"

The matriarch's smile widened. "Me? What of me? I am merely... an advisor."

Shepard snorted. "Can we please stop this slick fucking and ducking routine? Look, lady, you are fucking crazy, and you – " she pointed at Harper " – are probably right behind her in the race to crazytown. There's no way in hell I can work with you people if I have to contemplate blowing your heads off one day if you go too far."

She placed her hands flat on the table. "I don't have time to listen to code words. You say you want me to join Cerberus – fine. If I do, and you two start something I don't agree with, like the shit on Edolus, you are going to have a very short conversation with my ODIN."

Harper's voice was harder than she'd ever heard before. "That is why you were brought back, Shepard."

She blinked. "What?"

He gave her a look. "I'm not a man who often doubts himself. I firmly believe the choices I make and the paths I've walked are the right ones. And yet... I am not perfect."

Jack Harper took a deep breath. "There was a period of time in which I came very close to simply going along with Rachel and Richard. A time where the excesses of the High Lords, and the muted hostility of alien races had very nearly convinced me that we should be aiming for human dominance, not merely survival and prosperity. " He sipped his drink again, a look of disgust clearly written on his features.

"If I had stayed on that road, Cerberus might have ended up much worse than it did. Certainly there would have been no reason for me to provide you information on Saren's whereabouts, much less give Kyle any information on the other actions of the SA."

He glanced at Trellani, then back at Shepard. "It is only due to the advice of the matriarch here that I chose otherwise. But if I had not listened – if I had just gone along with Richard and Rachel... would you have been able to stop Saren at all? Would you have been made a Spectre to be in a position to stop him?"

Shepard let her weight fall onto one leg. "...probably not."

He lit a fresh cigarette. "Ultimately, I realized only after the fact that I had nearly – personally – caused the destruction of humanity. By letting my frustration, my... past... dominate my way of thinking, I had almost undone my own life's work. As I said, Cerberus is an idea. It can't be killed. But it can be perverted and misused."

"You do not tolerate such things. You never have, and you never will. Petrovsky has done his best, but he has his own areas of darkness and frustration. I do not want to put myself in a position where Cerberus undertakes an action that weakens or destroys humanity. And I do not want Cerberus to be the cause of the alien governments we share the galaxy with coming after humanity."

Shepard gestured to Trellani. "Your girlfriend is going to present problems, then, when it comes to dealing with the asari."

Trellani nodded. "A fact both he and I are aware of. I will only say this – the Thirty are not worth saving. I can count on a single hand those among them who are not worthy of a painful death. They have committed atrocities worse than anything your High Lords or your Alliance has done, and they plan to perform the same unto humanity. When the time comes that we must interact with them, I have already made extensive preparations to fake my own death to clear the waters."

She made a gesture of siari frustrated. "Yet in the end, Shepard, Jack is right. We – and I include myself in Cerberus as I have come to care a great deal for humanity – are an organization without oversight, without hard boundaries."

Harper nodded. "By having you as a part of Cerberus – a public part – I am not trying to use your reputation for refusing to allow criminality to whitewash us. I am offering to allow you to make sure we don't engage in criminality, in excess, in what most would call terrorism in the first place."

He puffed on the cigarette. "My long term goals are simple. Defeat the Collectors and tie them to the Reapers. Ensure we are ready to fight the Reapers when they come. Destroy the Shadow Broker and use his resources to protect humanity's future. Make sure that – assuming we survive the Reaper threat – that humanity is neither destroyed by others or corrupted into a terror-driven police state in the aftermath. Ultimately, I want to see a humanity strong enough that we can eliminate the need for the endless shadow wars – to force the galaxy to treat us as equals. A humanity strong enough to not need things like Commissars and citizenship tiers. A humanity strong enough to be proud of, instead of wondering what other atrocity will be uncovered next."

Trellani smiled. "My long term plans will take much longer, but are much simpler. Cast down the Thirty. Reveal the truth of... what I have discovered about them, and Athame. Redeem the Justicar Order and destroy the sick elements of asari society that keep it trapped and bound to the whims of the House of Storms."

She raised her chin. "And ultimately, unite humanity and asari, to counter the depraved schemes of the salarians and hopefully establish peace – real peace, not this sick shadow war where thousands die every day while our leaders smile and distract us with extranet trash."

Shepard looked at them both a long moment. "Those sound benign...but involve a lot of people dying to get there. I doubt the Thirty is going to want to give up their power any more than the High Lords would."

Trellani smiled. "Shepard, if I have learned anything in my fall, it is this – the galaxy is not a dark place because of the petty evil of the average human, asari, or salarian. They are just people, living their lives as best they can. No, it is evil because of our _leaders_. Our leaders, who enable – and benefit from – the slavers and criminals. Our leaders who kill their own kind searching for methods to achieve dominance. Our leaders who see the average living being as nothing more than a pawn, a grain of sand upon a beach they plan to glass to make way for their own desires."

She made a gesture of siari unity. "We can only move beyond what this galaxy has become by moving beyond these tokens of yesteryear."

Shepard thought about that for a few seconds. "And the costs?"

Harper sighed. "Getting to those goals is worth any sacrifice. Cost is not something we can measure fairly, because every day the people in power cost us all so much more. You yourself have championed the idea that a criminal always has a choice, and if they refuse to change they should be put down. The leaders of the galaxy won't change willingly."

He puffed on the cigarette. "And yet... if we get sidetracked or mislead, or if we get carried away in our plans, as it stands we have nothing capable of calling us out on such. That is where you come in."

Shepard stood there for long seconds, thinking. When she finally spoke, it was in a low tone. "You are basically saying that if you go too far you expect me to kill you?"

Harper's blue-glowing eyes met hers calmly. "If it comes to that, yes. That is one of the main reasons, as I said, we brought you back. But not the only one. Cerberus can't make any changes in the Alliance without your help. You have the name. You have the title of nobility. You have the cultural impact. You have the sway to make others listen to you. And ultimately, if Cerberus moves in a direction that isn't optimal, you have already stated several times you wouldn't hesitate to kill me."

He dumped his ashes. "My miscalculations nearly lead me to a place that would have gotten us all killed by the Reapers. Trellani has made... similar missteps. I am not so arrogant, nor sure of my own infallibility, that I'm willing to risk humanity's future on me being right every time."

Shepard sighed. "I don't have a choice, it seems."

Harper arched an eyebrow. "You always have a choice, Shepard. As I said when we awoke you. If you can't work with us, we can go our separate ways."

She shook her head. "Not like that. I've bitched all my life about fuck-heads in power who don't own up to their actions. Like the Fleet Master, who basically told me the Alliance would do anything to ensure humanity's survival, without bothering to ask himself if the shit he did would end up actually getting us all killed. I haven't seen a single shred of evidence to show me the Alliance or the High Lords ever stopped to think 'is this the right thing to do?' "

She turned to face the pair. "I've read your manifesto. I don't agree with most of it. You may be right that we can't afford to let ourselves depend on the kindness of others, when that kindness is likely to be poison. But the rest of it ...I think strength only comes through sacrifice, not through being willing to do any kind of atrocity. I think that the more threatening humanity becomes the more likely we are to be destroyed instead of respected. But most of all, I absolutely hate the idea that to survive we have to match what other alien races do in terms of depravity."

She met his gaze. "And yet, based on the shit I just heard, I'm starting to realize it's me who is the fucking fool. That I was so fucked up that I actually believed in shit like honor, decency, courage. That the people running my government, the leaders running the blue I put on when I stopped being a gang banging piece of shit – they don't care. And now, I discovered that they may have never cared."

She grimaced. "At the same time, the tired old BS that if we didn't do such sick bullshit, we'd end up like the krogan and the quarians doesn't fly. The krogan attacked first, and the quarians blew themselves up with their geth. If you make reckless, stupid choices you get bad results. That's what has to change in Cerberus, or we certainly will end up like them."

She exhaled. "Nothing I do is going to give me back what I've lost. The best I can do is make sure the fuckers who took it from me don't take anything else. That goes for the Broker... and the Alliance leadership."

She fixed her gaze on him. "If I join you, it won't be me walking away if you double cross me anymore. It will be me killing you and seeing if Miranda has more sense. "

Harper smiled. "If you join Cerberus, it will be you having the chance to actually prove your way of looking at the universe is right." He puffed on his cigarette. "I'll willingly admit Cerberus was my reaction to the horrors of the First Contact War. A war that would have seen us obliterated over the obstinacy of a single turian admiral and the incompetence of a Primarch, that we only survived because Uressa T'Shora had seen enough bloodshed. I suspect Trellani's motives are grounded just as fully in what she discovered and the horrific reaction it gained from the asari."

He met her gaze evenly, blue-glowing eyes calm and cool. "If you think my way of doing things is wrong... I will listen to your advice as much as I do Trellani's. If you think we are going too far, I'll accept that as long as you can provide workable alternatives. But I have a firm belief that only humanity can change the status quo, and I won't alter my belief on that."

Shepard closed her eyes. "...very well. What now?"

Harper leaned back, allowing himself the very smallest sigh of relief. Shepard noticed Trellani's hand moved subtly, and figured the matriarch had been gripping her warp sword.

The Illusive Man's voice was almost muted. "For now, we continue with our plans. My main focus is on building up a strike force to allow us to take the fight to the Broker once you localize him. Petrovsky is overseeing that, for the most part. Our other endeavors are economic and informational – providing the money and resources to support your own operations. Nothing changes there. We have a program in place to use 'fake' geth to stir up Council activity and make sure shipbuilding remains a high priority, as well as funneling money to technology start-ups involved in creating new technology that might be used to thwart the Reaper menace."

Shepard rubbed her chin. "...my old weapons officer and John Oracal are working off of some of my old weapons designs. Could you invest in them? The Alliance is fucking cheap and the Avenger is still garbage."

He arched an eyebrow but nodded. "A good suggestion. I'll see about creating a method for doing so that does not point back to us."

Shepard nodded. "How many other people are in Cerberus?"

Harper frowned. "Outside of your Revenant cell? Less than three hundred, with the vast majority of those being hackers, economic agents, and observers. General Petrovsky is slowly building up a force of rapid-reaction soldiers, and another of my agents, Rasa, is leading a group of infiltrators and saboteurs. Finally, agent Brooks is involved in overseeing … other methods of gathering information." He leaned back. "And you will continue to pursue the goals we have already discussed, correct?"

Shepard stood up, then rolled her shoulders. "Yeah. I am going to focus on handling the Collectors and the Broker for now. Omega is going to be a clusterfuck, and Grunt and Jack still need training – training it doesn't look like I'll have time to provide. We'll talk more about our next actions when I get back from that."

Harper nodded, and Shepard stepped out of the conference room, leaving him alone with Trellani. He glanced at her, as he inhaled smoke from his cigarette. "Interesting outcome."

The matriarch stood slowly, careful with her injured arm. "She remains... blind... to the larger picture. Yet I maintain this is the best course, for many reasons. I know you dislike not leading by fiat... but you will not be able to take a hand in the leadership of humanity in any event, with or without her participation."

He chuckled. "I am more than my ego, as you should know by now. Shepard will still rely on me for finances, resources, intelligence, and ultimately direction. And what we lose is not of any real importance – Hades can do all of the morally questionable research and acts for us, and we'll ultimately benefit when she dismantles them. It will make Cerberus out to look heroic."

Trellani's lips curved. "And the reaction of the Thirty when they realize a human has mastered their most sacred arts and difficult biotics will be a thing of beauty to watch. The irony is I did not even break the Laws of Concordance when I taught her – she was the mate of a member of the Thirty, after all."

Harper stood. "You should go to medical. The medical facilities here are somewhat better than at Patriot Station, and Doctor Sedanya is no doubt a better judge of asari medicine than Minsta is."

Trellani gave a smile. "Very well. I will meet you at your pinnace when I am done."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard found Kasumi in one of the private medical rooms, being worked on by Sedanya. The woman's armor suit had been taken off and she was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, one leg stretched out on the medical bed where the asari doctor could work on the garish looking wound in her thigh.

Shepard stepped in and closed the door behind her. "Doc, how is she?"

Sedanya shifted position as she extracted a tiny piece of metal from the wound. "She got hit by a fragmented piece of armor. It nearly severed the femoral artery – which would have killed her. Mr. Taylor did some fine emergency field aid, but his work wasn't completed." She plucked out a second tiny piece of metal. "And the armor broke apart in her thigh, which will cause muscle tearing if left untreated."

The thief looked up, smaller and more vulnerable looking without the black body suit and hood. "The doctor was telling me how lucky I was that I didn't die on the spot. I usually don't get involved in fighting Silaris armored gunships." She shrugged. "Sedanya-san is a very talented doctor. I should be able to hold my own soon enough."

Shepard smirked. "That's good to hear. I'd like to know a bit more about you. You're a thief? What sort of things did you get involved with?"

The thief leaned back, her Japanese features composed. "I am a very good thief. Maybe the best. I don't steal common things. I mostly go for art, or expensive collectors items – or sometimes information. It all depends on what strikes my fancy. At times, I do it merely for the challenge, and donate the results to charity."

Shepard folded her arms. "I see. Can you fight? Sorry to be blunt, but I'm not sure how much infiltration-style work – or blatant theft – we'll have in this... mess."

Goto nodded. "Before I went on my own way, I was a Marine Scout-Sniper for five years. I was... good. Not great, but good. I wanted to join one of the RIU's, but my scores were not good enough. And when I didn't make the cut for promotion, I just let my enlistment lapse. I was tired of military life."

Shepard leaned back against the wall, watching Sedanya inject medical omnigel into the gaping wound on Goto's thigh. "Alright, fair enough. Why did you get into theft in the first place?"

The Asian woman sighed. "It's a long story, Taicho."

Shepard shrugged. "I have time."

The thief shrugged and leaned back a bit more. "I was raised on Neo Berlin. My family were... not liked by the Imperial Court of Japan. They were part of a failed keibatsu that opposed some of the changes to the law the Emperor decreed, and were encouraged to live elsewhere. My baachan was very bitter about that, and my tousan was always involved in schemes to try and regain what we lost."

Kasumi winced as Sedanya did something to her leg, then continued. "Anyway, I grew up mostly normally. Neo Berlin was a pretty booming place due to all the cash from eezo mining coming in, and Nau Brash, our city, blew up into a big place overnight. I ended up messing about with lots of techheads when I was growing up, and learning about hacking and locks from my tousan."

"I joined up in the Marines like every other good Neo Berliner kid did, and learned about sniping and sneaking about and all that. When I mustered out, I worked for a bit in a bank, but then my kaasan developed lung cancer."

Goto looked down. "We didn't have the money to pay for the viral terminator treatments, so... I used some of my skills and ended up diverting some money to a separate account I set up. I got her treatments paid for... but I also got caught. Before I could get arrested, I fled Neo Berlin. My family formally disowned me... but my tousan sent me a message saying he was still proud of me."

She smiled. "I sort of got lost in just running about for a while, living off my wits. I was actually staking out a target when I saw someone else had beat me to it. An asari. Security had been tipped and she was going to get killed... so I helped out." Her face fell. "Her working name was Ghost-Step... her real name was Sariel."

Sedanya looked up. "A very famous asari thief well known for her extensive blueware."

Goto smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Yeah. Sariel was dying and using her skills to pay her way through various medical treatments. She took me along with her when she fled the planet we were on in thanks for saving her life, and taught me... most of what I know."

Shepard nodded. "She was dying? Of what?"

Kasumi's expression was one of unease. "A disease of some kind. She'd been forced to replace a lot of herself with cybernetics over the years to adjust to it, that and she'd been caught in some kind of plasma explosion at some point. She told me it was something to do with her nervous system. All I know is she was working with some pretty shady salarian doctors to treat it, and it was expensive."

"We ended up robbing banks, museums, private investors. You name it, we did it. I stole an STG cloaking module – I still use it – and would act as the oversight, or do hacking and breaking into locations. She did most of the crazier stuff, explosives, weird biotic tricks. We were a good team."

Shepard waited a few seconds for her to continue. "And you eventually ran into... Keiji?"

The thief's voice was ragged. "Hai."

Shepard exhaled. "I'm told that Ghost-step was killed in your infiltration of Hock's estate. I'm sorry for your loss, both of your friend and your fiance. The only consolation I can give you is that we're going after the Broker...and if we find out who set up your fiance to be killed, we'll kill that bastard too."

Goto looked up. "I... thank you. I'm not in very good mental shape right now, Taicho. I lost the person who's been my mentor and teacher for almost a decade. I was maybe getting over losing Keiji... this will take longer." Her voice turned vicious. "At least Hock is dead."

Shepard nodded. "I currently don't have anyone good at sniping. When we deploy, given that you can move around stealthily, I would like you to take a high oversight position and cover my approaches. No offense, but you don't look like you would do well in the main line of battle."

Kasumi gave a small shrug, and then winced again as Sedanya began using a nano-threader to close the wound in her leg. "That suits me fine. I can handle a firefight... but I'd prefer to work at a distance. I can also help with breaking security."

Shepard nodded. "Our armory has a full selection of weapons. Some of them are designs I made myself. Mr. Taylor can also get your armor upgraded."

Kasumi gave an impish smile. "I'm looking forward to that." She glanced down at her leg, where Sedanya was wrapping it in medigel infused bandages. "So, assuming I'm good to go for Omega, what is the plan?"

Shepard folded her arms. "We're there to extract Archangel. Our intel suggests he is out to take down the Broker, just like we are, so he should be of some use. Anybody who can take on all of Omega for more than a year is nobody to fuck with – and I'll need the best, given what our ultimate goal is."

She rubbed the back of her neck. "Problem is, we haven't been able to localize him or make contact with him, and it looks like the gangs are going to find him sooner or later, so we'll probably have to get him out of a clusterfuck of a situation. We're not even entirely sure Archangel is just one turian or a group of people."

Goto shrugged. "I was on Omega about four months back... I get the feeling it has to be more than one person, Taicho. Omega... is not a pleasant place for most people, but it has gotten a lot better since he started his crusade. I don't think Archangel realizes how much the people of the lower districts idolize him – if he did he might have tried to have them revolt against Aria-dono."

Shepard nodded . "You said you could get us in... how exactly?"

Goto smiled. "I know Aria-dono. I've done work for her more than once, after all. If I come in with a pinnace and say I'm here recruiting for a heist against a member of the Thirty, she will be delighted to have me aboard. Once you're docked and people know your ship is here under Aria-dono's protection, no one will bother you."

Shepard rubbed her chin, then shrugged. "That could be pretty useful, I guess. We'll need a reason to offload cargo – we can pack mechs in cargo containers along with my armor." She glanced at Sedanya. "Will she be good to go for any fighting?"

The asari doctor shook her head. "Not really. This isn't like being shot, this hit fractured her femur and tore a lot of muscle. I'm putting her on a bone regenerator until you leave, but I would strongly recommend leaving her on the pinnace. It would be best for her to avoid any lengthy amount of walking on this leg for about a week."

Shepard nodded. "Alright. When you get done, have the doctor here take you to operations and check in with Miranda. She'll get you set up with quarters and show you the mess facility, the armory, all of that. We're in communications blackout, if you need to contact anyone Mr. Ezno will have to approve and route it."

Goto gave a shrug. "No one I can think of to talk to." Her expression changed. "The... way they brought you back to life. Is it something that can be repeated?"

Shepard gave a grim smile. "It's possible but unlikely. And extremely expensive, and you end up mostly cybernetics and cloned up organs all tidied up under artificial skin. The most important thing is that the brain has to be intact."

Goto sagged and nodded. "Understood."

Shepard took a deep breath. "I have a question I ask each person who joins us. Stopping the Collectors – and by extension, the Reapers – should be its own reward. But I know that each person has their own reasons and desires. What do you want? What made you accept Cerberus' offer, and what do I need to provide you to get you to commit everything to this goal?"

The thief was silent for several seconds. "I want answers. Why... why was Keiji killed? And I want to help my family, make sure they're okay." She paused. "If I I can rob the Shadow Broker blind I'll take that too."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "We'll do what we can. I can make sure your family is doing fine, at the least. When we get time, I'll make sure you can get in contact with them and then if they need anything, we'll provide it. Anything else?"

Kasumi shook her head. "Cerberus offered me a pretty big sum of cash, and has already helped me by getting back Keiji's gray-box. I'd be silly to ask for more than that."

Sedanya stepped back. "If you don't need anything else from her, Shepard, I really need to get her on the bone regen machines."

Shepard left, heading towards the science lab. Goto was more than a little affected by losing her closest friend, something Shepard could relate to. How well she'd be able to channel that loss into rage and determination remained to be seen.

It took about five minutes for her to get to the science labs, where she found the salarian doctor seated at a console, reading data from two screens that was scrolling rapidly. "Doctor Solus?"

The salarian tapped the haptic keyboard in front of him and stood. "Ah, Shepard. Impressive facilities. Also told smaller mobile lab on flagship. Very complete. Better equipment than in STG. Did not expect from Cerberus."

She walked around some kind of scanner machine and faced him squarely. "They don't do anything by half-measures. And as for what to expect from them, well... Cerberus isn't going to follow the path it used to. While I won't lie and say it going to be flowers and giggling children, I have no use for the kind of atrocities it used to commit."

The old salarian tilted his head. "I see. Illusive Man impossible to predict. Have glanced over resurrection technology. Fascinating, but also disturbing. Implications very difficult to accept."

She shrugged. "I try not to think about it. The scale of it has hit me more than once, but dwelling on it doesn't do much for my own mental state." She exhaled. "You've been briefed on our short term goals. We're going after the Collectors. I need whatever you can give me to allow us to survive combating them, find out their weakness, and give us an edge."

He nodded. "Dealt with Collectors personally during STG tenure. Strange. Difficult to comprehend. Traded them certain genetic samples in return for highly advanced filtering technology. Interactions were limited in scope, but Collectors clearly advanced in technology. Combating them will be difficult."

She shrugged. "You were STG for a long time, doctor. Some of the things I've read in Cerberus intel workups don't paint a very pretty picture. Why leave to run a clinic on Omega?"

Mordin blinked, then walked across the lab to a large haptic-display tabletop. Tapping in data from his omni-tool, he spoke in a quiet voice. "In youth, wanted adventure. Got into medicine and science to help people. STG service started out good. Stopped terrorists, prevented epidemics, did a great many good things. But STG also does dark things."

He glanced at the data on the table, then back at her. "Eventually, was tapped to work on Genophage. Krogan adaptive genetics were nullifying effects. Worked with several other cells, rewrote Genophage, redeployed on Tuchanka." He fingered the tip of one of his horns that was missing. "Resulted in a firefight. Nearly killed."

He bent over the table, tapping on his omni-tool again. "Missions became more morally polarizing. Demands to develop biowarfare weapons. Testing... repugnant. Eventually could not accept methods being used. Broke from family, retired from STG, branded self as Lythari."

She frowned. "Lythari are... outcasts?"

He straightened, turned to face her. "Not exactly. Self applied label. Group that does not follow leadership of the SIX. Wishes change in salarian culture. Sister furious. STG displeased. But not a slave, could not make me work for them. Went to Omega. Started clinic, helped those who needed it and couldn't pay."

He gave a thin, satisfied smile. "Good work. No moral dilemmas, no guilt, no nightmares. Helped many people. Trained new doctors, medical assistants, cyberdocs. Aria was amused, gave mark of respect so that I would not be harassed. Some tried anyway. Killed them."

Shepard nodded. "And then the STG called you back."

His expression tightened. "Yes. Wanted me to work on Collector threat, other projects. Was aware of shadowing by Cerberus. STG Master said they were looking to kill me. Threatened to cut me loose from STG protection if I didn't work for STG again. Refused. Shipped back to Therum to return to Omega. Ugly conversation with sister." He sighed. "Figured I would die for principles. Instead, recruited by Odd Couple. Now here."

She folded her arms. "You understand the stakes?"

The old salarian nodded. "Collector threat bad enough. Link to Reapers alarming. Highly placed in STG, but not aware of Reaper issue until briefing recently. Only highest command figures know about Reapers, not seeing enough action taken to prepare. Suspect Broker intel suggesting threat is not dire the core of the issue." He paused. "If Collectors sampling humanity, suspect Reaper interest in humans...not benign."

He glanced over the haptic tabletop. "Also, link between Okeer and Collectors troubling. Okeer brilliant but dangerous."

She laughed bitterly. "Oh yeah. We obtained most of what we could of his research."

The doctor nodded. "Lawson informed me. Am reviewing." He gave a sharp exhalation. "Has made a fool of us."

She arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

The salarian gestured to the table, showing some kind of complex genetic information. "Okeer modifications to Genophage targeted. Changes to entire glandular system, anchored in hanta-viral agents embedded in krogan digestive tract. Actually co-opts work I did with STG to strengthen Genophage"

He tapped a finger on the table. "Okeer modification twofold. Terminator sequences kill genetically flawed zygotes before complete formation. Only genetic patterns conforming to improvements allowed to complete fertilization cycle. Uses junk data attached by STG to cause failure in fetus to instead convey improved genetic traits."

He stood. "End result – birth rate still vastly reduced, but krogan produced stronger, faster, smarter than before. Minor modification would allow terminator sequence in hanta-viral agent to kill all but highest proportion of fetal beings long before full growth...no more stillborn krogan."

Shepard nodded. "So not a cure, but he makes the Genophage a way to strengthen the krogan and removes the most disturbing part of it."

The salarian nodded. "Irritating. Changes made in Genophage code anticipate likely STG reactions to restrict it." He tapped two sequences on the table. "Expected reaction would be to remap krogan gonadtropine equivalent and suppress themestrione production to induce reduced fetal viability. Okeer's change would ..." The salarian sighed. "...completely undo gating restriction."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Got none of that."

Mordin looked at her. "Attempting to undo Okeer changes would in effect cure Genophage. Most brute-force attempts to cure Genophage and exclude his changes would prevent any pregnancy from coming to term. Implications morally disgusting. His way or or no way at all. Megalomaniac."

Shepard gave a snort. "Well, given that he was tied up with Saren and Benezia, it's not a shocker that he was a vindictive evil asshole." She glanced around the room. "Back to the mission itself. The Illusive Man picked your name out to help us, but didn't exactly share why. I need to know what you can do."

Mordin sniffed. "Multitude. Not singular in abilities. Medical doctor, bio-researcher, general science – specialize in genetics, but omnidisciplinary. Skilled at communications protocols and encryption schemas. Field medical skills and triage as well."

She nodded. "And your combat abilities?"

The doctor shrugged. "Not as young as once was. Still, good with submachine guns, pistols, grenades. Also developed infowar and omni-tool combat programs." His face flickered with amusement. "And farming implements. When needed."

"Ooookay. Let me ask you this, then. I'm going after the Broker... because he's responsible for the death of my wife, and my friends, and my ship. That, and he's in league with the Collectors. Why are you agreeing to work with Cerberus, and with me?"

Mordin gave her a direct look. "Should not require reason. Evil triumphs when good people do nothing. Reapers end of all developed races in galaxy. Collectors monstrous, experimenting on living beings. Broker... morally dubious. Did not go along with STG when could not find reasons to violate personal morality." He folded his hands behind his back. "Made choices when younger. Sometimes poor. Lost sight of little pictures in big picture. Lost sight of consequences in pursuing achievement. Regrets need addressing."

She nodded slowly. "And your thoughts on Cerberus?"

The ex-STG doctor shrugged. "Activities before destruction on par with atrocities committed by other races. Of course, condemnation by asari, salarians and others criminally hypocritical. Illusive Man master planner and highly admired by STG." He paused. "If Cerberus backing you, implies goals are benign. Past actions irrelevant in face of Reaper threat being ignored."

She fell back a bit, putting her weight onto one leg and folding her arms. "It doesn't bother you?"

Mordin gave an expressive gesture with his hands. "Blame and condemnation pointless. Focus on now, achieve now, bicker about past when not facing giant omnicidal robots. Multitude of gray areas morally. Pick brightest one and do best to make it brighter."

She chuckled a bit at that. "That's surprisingly open minded."

Mordin shook his head. "Must be. Closed mind is closed to new knowledge. Life is negotiation. We all want. We give to get what we want. Sometimes ends up good. Other times, not so much. Lesson learned. But judging? Pointless. Waste of intellect. Never have. Won't start."

She let her arms drop and rolled her shoulder. "What do you want out of working with us, then? How do we compensate you? What is it that you want?"

The salarian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Difficult question. Have few personal needs. No offspring, sister... acting distastefully. One nephew, but provided for. Bored with clinic on Omega." He shrugged. "Not young. Would like to think made positive change in galaxy before death. Other recompense unnecessary."

Shepard nodded thoughtfully. "Alright then. We have an extensive armory and Mr. Taylor can provide you with any armoring needs."

The doctor nodded, turning back to the haptic display. "Will check with him once done with Okeer data."

Shepard shook her head and headed out of the lab to go look for Grunt.

**O-TWCD-O**

Praetor Rathaxan glanced around the cavernous weapons testing bay through the heavy armaglass portals, watching the small forms of Palavanus technicians scurrying about far below. It was hardly the first time he'd been to this station - situated around a dead star, deep within a nebula of ionized gasses for secrecy and security - but it was the first time that he was accompanied by admirals from the Unbroken Circle. The corridors, painted an awful dead white, were only set off by the host of defensive weapons and the occasional member of the Blackwatch.

Blackmoon Station, as it was called, was the testing ground and proving facility for the Palavanus Institute of Technology and Arms. Officially, it didn't exist. It was where the pieces of technology acquired by the Deathwatch and Blackwatch ended up, where the Palavanus tested new weapons and armor, and now where they would attempt to recreate the weapon used by Nazara.

Given the bulk of the Reaper ship, the assembled machinery in the bay itself was surprisingly compact, given the purpose it was to serve. Thanix had suggested in communication with the Primarch that the new weapon about to be tested would make every form of mass acceleration technology completely obsolete. Yet the weapon below was not very large at all.

He didn't know if that was due to it being a test model, or if it could be scaled up to be more destructive.

What little he knew was from the comm packet sent a few days back. The prototype was being called the Thanix Cannon, as it had been Thanix himself who'd been working on it. Based on the weapon recovered from the wreck of Nazara, it had taken almost a full year just to grasp the principles that would allow them to do anything with the technology.

At some point the Palavanus researchers had basically said the weapon could not be reproduced - it appeared to violate the laws of thermodynamics on a fundamental level. Yet Thanix himself had taken charge, and produced what he called a hybrid function weapon.

Rathaxan had looked over the basics, such as they were. He had dealt with the Palavanus and their various oddities long enough not to bother reading the technical specification document they had sent. He'd had his people skim it, and his mandibles flickered in amusement as he recalled their bafflement. It was often easier to simply ask Thanix himself what the tech would do, if he was in a mood to be coherent.

If he grasped it all correctly, though, the weapon worked much like the Reaper weapon did. It used a plasma compression chamber to flash-melt metal - in this case, nickel instead of iron - in an over-pressurized environment to prevent it from transitioning to a gas. Using magnetic containment this mass of super-hot liquids was then loaded into a mass effect shunt, similar to but larger than the one used on the hyperluminal particle accelerator cannons used by Final Line soldiers. The resulting beam, moving much faster than lightspeed, would hit with devastating force.

No energy ranges for the impact were given, and he had his doubts that it would truly match the largest dreadnaught weapons. Still, the claims being put forth were more than worth a look, and Rathaxan turned as the entryway behind him opened, and the tall, slender form of Thanix himself stepped through.

"Pretarch Thanix. I appreciate your hard work. I have with me the admirals of the fleet who will be handling procurement and implementation of new armaments, as you requested."

Thanix gave an almost jerky motion with his head, mandibles flaring. His body was draped in soft white robes set off with belts of various tool pouches, and he tapped something into his omnitool before responding. "Very good. You have reviewed the preliminary reports, the energy requirements and restrictions?"

Rathaxan nodded. "We have. There is … some skepticism, I'm afraid, of the published results. Are you sure this weapon will perform as predicted? I am not doubting that it works, but you have made a claim that it can fire at ranges and with a power our largest cannons cannot match."

Thanix gave an amused click, shaking his head. "The data already conveyed should have let you calculate the impact forces for yourself. However, we double-checked all the calculations. I have concluded that this simple weapon could easily devastate an asari cruiser with one or two shots." He sighed. "And yet, compared to the weapon that the Black Ship wielded, it still cannot match its power. There is an energized component in the weapon we could not replicate."

He then turned to face the Praetor fully. His features were set into a mask of what on another turian would be dismay. "And even then, I fear, the Black Ship chose - for whatever reason - not to use the full power of the weapon."

"Spirits, how more powerful could it have been?" asked the Praetor. He had seen footage of the attacks on both the Fourth Citadel Fleet and the Battle of the Citadel, showing the red beam shearing through ships like a vakar through tatheks.

Thanix shrugged, moving to a control console set into the wall. "Difficult to say. The weapon was damaged when we received it. But based on the impact forces we have achieved with this lesser model, I believe it could have cleaved the Destiny Ascension in half with one strike." He tapped several controls. "The reason it did not was most likely power related. Even our version is power hungry, although not nearly as much as the original version."

He tapped another control. "It is possible that by using lower power blasts it allowed it to fire more rapidly. Given the sheer power of the weapon, it would still overpower most of our ships but not use up its energy recklessly."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rathaxan saw huge clamps moving a section of what looked like the hull of a battleship into place, its surface covered in the golden gleam of Silaris armor. Personnel in the bay connected power cabling to sections of the hull segment as it locked in place, and kinetic barriers sprang up over and within the honeycombed hull.

At the same time, alarms began blaring. "Bay depressurization in thirty seconds. Activate mag boots and environmental systems or evacuate the bay."

Thanix chuckled. "The first test firing blew a hole in the side of the station. We've modified the testing bay to accommodate the results." He tapped another control. "Once the bay is prepared, it will be time to bring this prototype online and up to full power."

Rathaxan watched as the hull of the station split open inside the bay, two halves drawing aside to reveal the inky blackness of space, made murkier by the swirling gasses of the nebula in the distance.

Thanix tapped his omnitool. "Primary control - commence primary ignition."

"Affirmative, my prince!" replied a voice from the comm station. The lights flickered as power started to be directed towards the cannon. The last few technicians in the bay below entered into an armored viewing pod, as commentary from the firing technical team came across the comm system.

"Energy levels shifting…"

"Power rising…"

"Target locked…"

Rathaxan felt his breath catch at that moment, when Thanix spoke 'fire'. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the elongated machinery in the shape of a cannon erupted into a blue torrent of light, faster than the eye could follow. The blast slammed into the hull, the kinetic barrier shattering like glass as it struke.

For the barest second, the hull endured the blast, then the plates of the hull literally exploded into shrapnel and burning fragments and the beam tore through the hull to storm into the empty space beyond.

Klaxons sounded. "Power levels critical. Shutting down." The beam stopped, and Rathaxan glanced at what remained of the section of hull plating. A glowing hole big enough to drive a frigate through had been blown the entire length of the section, with splashes of still burning metal sprayed out from behind the section in wide swaths. Turians rushed out with fire extinguishers and omni foam dispensers to address the issues as the hull doors began closing again.

Thanix folded his arms. "Not quite enough gun, I think. But it's getting there."

Rathaxan gave him an incredulous look. "It seems a good deal more powerful than a dreadnaught main gun. I would call that a success."

Thanix gave an incredulous snort. "Dreadnaught gun? Spirits no. You don't start testing with full size weapons, my friend."

The Palavanus' smile was almost predatory and Rathaxan suppressed a full body shudder at the glee in the other turian's voice. "This was the frigate version." He folded his arms behind his back, gazing at the still burning wreckage of the hull section. "Still, for a prototype, it is within acceptable limits. Convey my funding and supply requests back to the Unbroken Circle with video of the test and inform the High Primarch I'll expect them in a month."

Rathaxan merely decided, given what he had just seen and heard, to nod and withdraw. Everytime he thought he was used to the crazy of the Palavanus they surprised him once again.


	26. Arc II : Shit is about to get real

_**A/N**:_

_I'm sorry to have delayed this. My back was somewhat better for a while, and has gone back to worse recently, and the end of last year was a mess. I've managed to put this chapter together, it's mostly a sort of 'how did we get to this mess' that the NEXT chapter will cover, the actual fighting.  
_

_Bonus if you can ID the game Avrensis was from without using the Internet. _

_Thanks to the Editing Gang for their usual bang-up job, and to several of them for pointing out much needed clarifications. They deserve more credit than I do.  
_

_As usual - go review **Living an Indoctrinated Dream**_ _by Aberron and __**Total Eclipse: An Asari Commando Novel **by RED78910.__  
_

* * *

_'I'm never letting you drive again, Sheep. Death only made you drive crazier than before.'  
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_\- 'Archangel' to 'Butcher', during the Archangel's Ascent incident.  
_

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Lochinvar Avrensis did not, on most occasions, have much opportunity to reflect on what he did for a living.

A massive man, towering over most other humans, Avrensis was once heavily involved in shipping concerns. In his youth he'd studied all manner of computer technologies, and was the first to combine the concepts of espionage and corporate sabotage with shipping and hauling. He'd stir up rumors, plant evidence, hack records, and generate situations where his just-in-time fleet of small, nimble hauling vessels were perfectly placed to take advantage of it all.

His business and life had nearly ended when he had gotten tangled up in the fall of Tyriun no Kage, and had drawn the wrath of the Lords of Sol for aiding in the escape of no Kage's own information network. Yet despite being hounded by Commissars and other agents of the High Lords, he had managed to survive and even thrive by shifting himself to Omega, and his line of work to something besides shipping.

These days, Avrensis was commonly considered a hacker, but that term failed to encompass the totality of what he actually did. He was a hacker, an information broker, a technological assassin and most of all, an investigator. He solved or created problems as needed, put information from various networks together in one place, and most importantly, acted as a final line of defense of some of Omega's secrets.

His abilities were augmented by the cloud of near-AIs slaved to his systems called the Chorus, and it was only due to their constant work and his oversight that agencies like the asari Seekers or the Alliance's Silver Legions had not cracked Omega's cyberdefenses long ago.

Since he'd arrived on Omega he'd been an important factor in aiding Aria maintain her fractious control of the station, sniffing out plots. With the rise of the Shadows in Aria's standing he'd fallen out of favor in some ways, given his prices – but when the Shadows and its network of hackers had been utterly destroyed by Archangel, and the resulting data breach had threatened Aria, he'd found himself in work once more.

All in all, he considered himself fairly secure. While not indispensable by any means, being vital to Aria's interest was about the best one could hope for in her domain. That didn't make him any more comfortable around the asari. She was dangerous and simply too unpatterned and spontaneous for him to get a good read on, and more often than not the tasks she assigned him were equally dangerous. Worst of all, Aria simply had too many other irons in the fire for Avrensis to believe that, were he to become some sort of threat to her, she wouldn't simply act to have him removed.

Which meant, on occasion, he acted in ways counter to her interests, if it meant enhancing his own security, which lead to the conversation he was now engaged in. As he gazed sourly at the curvy figure of the asari across from his multi-tiered desk, however, he paused for a few seconds to remind himself that he got into these kinds of situations because he was the best at what he did, and that his security had a price.

His massive fingers plucked a fresh cigar from the cherry-wood box atop the desk, long practiced motions with the cybernetic thumb slicing the tip off before he lit it. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and leaned back, frowning. "I'm fully aware of the situation, I assure you. I've done what you've asked. Not that it was easy, mind you. Or safe. Aria tends to take a... dim view of certain activities."

Relli's Kiss leaned back against the wall of the small office space, glancing at the multitude of haptic screens hanging from the ceiling, or projecting from the desk itself. "If it was easy, I would have been able to do it myself. What have you found?"

The big man shrugged. "A number of things. I haven't pinned down who the Archangel is or his exact location... which in and of itself tells me several interesting facts. It means he has a very good hacker, that he didn't even start his activities until he was in a position to leave no traces of where he operated from, and most of all – your boogeyman is not some random hastitim who has lost his mind."

Relli's Kiss ran a hand over her crests. "What I need are specifics, human, not conjecture."

Avrensis sighed, tapping his computer. "Very well. I've examined all of the attacks so far. The vast majority of them occur in the upper parts of the Lowers, with small attacks in the Black Concourse itself. None of the attacks have taken place in the mining districts, the docks, or the Heights. Nor have there been any indications of operations in the older mining tunnels. That implies – given the lack of superstructure in the Heights and the old mining areas – that Archangel is definitely operating out of the Lowers."

The asari frowned. "And why not the mids?"

Avrensis tapped another control, displaying a wire-frame of the station. The outline glowed in red and silver, the lower sections of the station with large blank areas. "Simple. As you know, I have access to Aria's security networks. These include scanners at the transition tunnels and the main aircar traffic tunnels, optical cameras at most major intersections, and scanning systems at places of interest."

He gestured. "Since the mids connect to the docks, they are the most highly scanned and watched section of the station aside from the Black Concourse itself. There's no way he could operate there. From what I have been able to gather, there is only 8% coverage of the lowers and 25% of the Heights, but over 92% of the mids because they link to the docks."

Relli's Kiss nodded. "I see. But... he could still be _operating_ from there, couldn't he?"

Avrensis shook his head. "No. There's simply nothing showing it. We have fragments of images of the Archangel in action in the Lowers. We have a partial scan of him when he hit the Black Concourse. We have that bit of footage when he hit the Heights. But not a single frame of him in the Mids. More importantly, the mids is fully known. We know all the buildings, all the warehouses, everything. Aria built it all out in the past fifty years."

He paused. "There is most certainly some kind of access path we're not seeing, which explains how he got into the Heights – but I doubt it could be big enough stage from." He tapped the map again, and it glowed where he tapped it.

"The Lowers? Less than 60% is fully mapped and known. There are older ruins near the Bottom, hundreds of old warehouses and other buildings that aren't on any maps, and so forth. I understand your people are telling you he has to be operating in the mids or out of the docks to receive external support, but there's simply nothing showing he's getting external support."

The Eclipse lieutenant folded her arms. "So how do you explain how he's been able to stay off the radar so cleanly? Where are his weapons coming from, that armor, his people?"

The big human suppressed a sigh, pulling up more figures. "Analysis of the hits has provided a great deal of information, most of which your people overlooked due to its disconnected nature. There are three things I looked at – the nature of the hits themselves, the ballistics reports, and the lack of physical evidence."

He folded his hands on his desk. "Whoever Archangel is, this is not some para-military operation, nor the work of a random nut. Military ops don't give a shit about 'evidence', they don't take into account how forensic analysis works, and they don't bother to cover their tracks this much – neither do hastitim. The nature of these attacks – from out of stealth, always either from sniping distance or close-range with surprise, using very heavy weapons – they probably sound like special ops."

He pulled up a map of the hits. "But on closer inspection, that falls apart. They are always careful to take shots where they rarely leave impact ballistics on walls or decking. With the exception of the blast at Vallus Towers, they have never – not once – even wounded innocents. They are paranoid about leaving behind any hint of physical evidence. And they know exactly how to avoid the standard monitoring sensors. That implies law enforcement, not soldiers."

Relli's Kiss gave a small laugh. "You're saying this is a _cop_?"

He shrugged. "I don't see any other method this could be happening by. I can't pin down much, but given the Archangel is supposedly turian, C-SEC fits the bill. Special Response, most likely." He tapped the desk again, bringing up reports of some kind.

"As to the evidence found, we only have the weakest of ballistics to go on. That is, due to a lack of hard impact sites, mostly inconclusive. However, based on the depth of impact, blood spatter and the like, I'm fairly certain that none of the weapons used in the hits were light."

She unfolded her arms. "Heavy weapons are expensive and hard to ship, and most require military training."

He nodded. "True. Our cop is probably also ex-military. But the only turians that are not "ex-military" are those still in it. And that's not the point. Heavy guns like Claymores, Widow Rifles, Revenants – whoever is using them had to have cybernetic augmentation. Not light shit, either – mil-spec, probably. They'd need regular maintenance at a full-service clinic. Unaugmented types simply can't fire these kinds of weapons with the accuracy we've seen."

He tapped a haptic screen. "There aren't too many full service cybernetic shops in the Lowers. Solus, but he's off-station – and there's a lot of traffic through there. Mithar. Halaksin, Ripper."

Avrensis puffed the cigar and offered a thin smile.

The asari inclined her head. "Interesting. My people will look into it... although Aria's greenshits are already watching the cyberdocs. I had wondered why... and that's just more proof he works for her. Anything else?"

He nodded. "I've run the numbers. I'm not sure what kind of suit the Archangel uses, but there aren't a ton of turian battle-suit pilots who then went into C-SEC that aren't active now. I've cross-referenced them and... well, there's a problem."

She frowned. "Problem?"

He exhaled. "Over a hundred matches, and they are all dead. Most of them died in the First Contact War and the rest died during the Benezia Incident or shortly thereafter. Six are still alive and I've hard-verified they are nowhere near Omega and never have been – more to the point, five of those six are Blue Suns and the last is in a hospital on the Citadel."

He placed an OSD on the desk. "This is what I've been able to compile. Your target is probably a younger turian with C-SEC experience. Definitely a sniper, and there is more than one shooter. They have at least two people with very good hacking abilities and some level of medical treatment or doctor capabilities. They're operating out of someplace off the main ways of the station, something defensible but with easy access to the unmapped outlying work spaces."

The asari took it and smiled. "I see. And my second request?"

Avrensis grimaced. "He's arriving in fifteen minutes at the docks, L-323. He has been doing some digging of his own, I believe."

The muscular asari pushed off the wall and tossed the big human a credit chip. "Your fee. And a bonus."

Avrensis arched an eyebrow and slotted it, then smiled. "...One more thing. Bonus for a bonus. I've heard chatter on the Broker Network that the Broker is... unhappy... with how things are transpiring here. He's sending in a Level 9 liquidation team lead by Tazzik to wipe the Archangel out."

Relli's Kiss laughed. "And he thinks Aria will let them aboard?"

Avrensis shrugged. "She let you lot aboard. To be honest, I'm not really able to talk about that except to say you should probably expect them to make it on board rather than not." His face was unexpressive, but Relli's Kiss could read between the lines well enough.

"I... see. In that case, I have someone to pick up and some explaining to do to my allies. We'll be in touch, human."

She left, and after a few minutes Avrensis touched his desk. "I need a team to field strip and search this facility. Once we're clean, move everything to Facility Six and booby-trap this place. You have fifteen minutes."

Avrensis then slotted an EMP charge into his computer stack, frying it, before getting up and heading out the door himself. He didn't trust Relli's Kiss not to sell him out or to place spy nano in his office and wasn't about to take chances that she'd been followed.

If you had enemies really out to kill you, after all, it wasn't really paranoia.

**O-TWCD-O**

Preparations at the base were moving at a frenetic pace as Shepard walked towards Operations. Another transport of crew – carefully vetted – had arrived, along with additional supplies. The pinnace they would use to travel to Omega was being refitted and prepped, and they'd be ready to launch in under two hours.

She entered operations, her mind mostly focused on the coming mess, and glanced over to find Trudy. "Any updates?"

The ex-AIS officer sighed and pulled up a mass of windows full of video and scrolling text. "They're closing in. Six skirmishes and firefights in the past day, most in the Lowers, the poorest part of Omega. From what we've seen they're flooding the area with everything – spectrals, hunting varren, omni-drones. They've offered not just bribes but a Blue Suns security force to protect the area from future gangs if people will give up information."

Shepard grimaced. "Wonderful. So getting to... wherever he is will be a cast iron bitch. What do you think our chances of getting an air-truck or two in there are?"

Trudy shook her head. "Hard to say. If Ms. Goto isn't exaggerating and she can get some kind of approval clearance from Aria herself... it should, in theory, be easy. But we've been monitoring comms as closely as we can. And while nothing hard has gone out the Blue Suns have mobilized almost fifteen percent of their manpower and hardware in the past seventy-two hours, and Eclipse units answering to the lieutenant on Omega have responded heavily as well."

Shepard nodded slowly, then shrugged. "Ooookay. And... sorry? Not seeing the importance, except that we have more dirtbags to shoot on our way in and out."

Trudy gave a thin, hard smile. "Aria has traditionally prevented large amounts of heavy ordnance and manpower not under her control to enter Omega, and since the Burning has been very hard line on controlling the number of warships in strike range of the station. The Archangel, however, has so infuriated them that they basically gave her an ultimatum – let us clean him out or we take our gangs off this station and do business with one of your warlords and rivals."

Shepard folded her arms. "That sounds like Aria may be a bit upset with these gangs... and probably Archangel too, if she ended up letting them on board."

Trudy nodded. "And I'm worried the situation may get worse if things go like I think they will." She smiled. "So... with that in mind, I had an idea I wanted to run past you."

Shepard held up a hand. "Tell you what. I'm going to see how Goto is doing in medical – they said she'd be good for walking at least. I'll get Miranda, Dr. Solus and Goto, and we'll meet you in the ops meeting room. Pull what you need together to fully plan the op and we'll brief everyone at once."

Trudy nodded, and Shepard tapped her omni. "Lawson. Ops has a possible strike plan. I need you to gather Mr. Pressly and Doctor Solus and meet me in Ops Planning, I'm going to get Goto. Status on the Normandy?"

Miranda's voice was a touch tired sounding. "According to Pressly and Tali'Zorah, it's... acceptable. There were some internal shock damage readings from taking STS missiles back on Korlus, and Tali is still in the outer pressure hull with Kiala looking to see if there was any separation between the hull and the Silaris plating. Functionally the ship is fine and has been re-armed."

Shepard nodded."Go ahead and prep to leave in a few hours. Things are getting hot and ugly on Omega and it won't be long before they localize this Archangel, and then he's going to be paste. I'd rather have him out of there before the place goes up in flames."

Miranda's voice was droll. "Trust me, Shepard, so would I. The last Burning was chaotic enough. Meet you in five."

She clicked off even as she headed for the elevators to medical, tapping a different line on her omni-tool to switch commlink channels. "Doctor Sedanya?"

"Here, Shepard."

Shepard entered the elevator, the bone-white and black framed doors swished shut behind her silently, as she tapped her destination. "I'm headed your way now – we're going to have to get moving on the Omega situation and we need some input from Ms. Goto. How's she doing?"

Sedanya's voice was calm."For the most part, surprisingly well. I removed all bone shards and did what I could with regenerators and cultured smart-tape wraps made of her own cells, but to be honest, I'd be happier if I went with cybernetic replacement for the whole leg. There's minor necrosis in a couple of places I had to clear out with laser scalpels and the femoral artery still has weakened walls. One of the main valves in the saphenous vein is also not working, so her blood flow is off."

Shepard grunted as the elevator stopped and opened out into the lab. "Right over my head, doc. Can she walk?"

A hesitation, then Sedanya spoke. "Yes. _Carefully_."

Shepard sighed. "Put her in a lift chair, then. I'll be there in twenty seconds."

**O-TWCD-O**

Ten minutes later, Shepard sat down at the rich conference table with a fresh mug of real coffee and glanced around. Trudy sat towards the middle of the table, inputting data into her portable comp unit.

Goto was still in a lift chair. Wearing a loose black shirt and without her hood made her look smaller and younger, her eyes wide and flitting over everything.

Solus had set his coat aside, showing he wore a one-piece white bodysuit with integrated armor panels and instruments in the arms, and was flitting through a pad rapidly.

Pressly and Miranda sat side by side, the older man frowning at something Miranda was showing him on a larger padd, some kind of wire-frame.

Finally, at the end of the table, Zaeed Massani lounged back, adjusting something in the wrist section of his cybernetic arm with a small metal tool.

Shepard sipped the coffee and smiled faintly. "Alright." She glanced at Trudy. "As I said, we need to prep on hitting Omega and getting Archangel out. Normally, that wouldn't be an issue, but according to Trudy, there's now a station wide manhunt going on and way more Blue Suns, Eclipse, and Blood Pack than there were two weeks ago."

She leaned back slightly. "We need to figure out how to do this, and Trudy says she has an idea, so..."

The ex-AIS agent gave a nod and tapped a control on her comp, displaying a crisp shaded wire-frame of Omega. "Based on what bits of information Doctor Solus has given us as well as what we've monitored from the Blue Suns comm network, it is our belief that Archangel is operating in one of the three Lowers 'zones' of Omega – Gozu, Vefu, or Niftu."

Pressly arched an eyebrow. "Lowers?"

Trudy nodded. "Omega is split into five sections. The base – these jutting towers – are the Lowers, sometimes called the Bottoms or the Pits. Poorly mapped and even more poorly maintained, they are residential, bulk warehousing and urban industrial districts. Above them is a band of asteroidal rock worked into docking ports and warehouses known as the Mids. The actual docking creches and piers extend out from the Mids, and the Mids has a small residential section – mostly for ship merchant captains and highly paid specialists."

"Above the Mids is the Heights, these more modern towers and constructions you see below the asteroidal cap. This is where the higher-class residents of Omega stay, as well as most of the commercial districts and what passes for tourism sections are. Above that, from a flat plate at the base of the asteroidal cap and mining throughout its bulk is the Mining District – where they mine eezo, bauxite, iron, and where most heavy industry is done. These long piers are shipbuilding creches."

The middle of the wire-frame flared. "In the middle of all of this is a thick band of armored metal – according to the scans the AIS did of it a few years back, the material is the same stuff the Citadel is made out of. No one is sure who built it originally. The mining operations and most of the rest of the baseline construction was done during the Prothean era, but dating this stuff shows it to be a lot older - millions of years older. It's practically impenetrable to direct attack - and most efforts to take it apart to make armor out of it failed as well."

Shepard arched an eyebrow, thinking about the process Trellani described in how her warp sword of such metal was formed. "Yeah, the stuff is very tough. But if it really is the same, then that implies the Reapers made it. No one ever fucking investigated this?"

Trudy shrugged. "From what I understand the original scouts who found Omega were not from the Council, but turian exiles. The primary interest in Omega for many years was the easy to mine eezo... and then the outcasts were overrun by pirates who took the place as a stronghold. I'm not sure when they found the Black Concourse, but it was certainly during the aftermath of the krogan Rebellions."

Mordin nodded. "STG had strong interest in Concourse. Sent several teams in centuries ago. Most technology stripped, entire areas heavily damaged. More interested in what damaged metal than contents." He paused. "Citadel sent Spectes and STG teams at intervals to investigate, but nothing of use found. When Aria took over...teams investigating killed, sent back in pieces."

Shepard shook her head. "You're telling me the goddamned Council let a bunch of pirates simply hold onto a Prothean mining station with tons of eezo and possible ancient tech? And then when Aria took over just let her _HAVE _it?"

Miranda gave a sour nod. "The Council put a moratorium on many types of research and expansion after the Second Rebellions, and the number of outcasts generated by the last of the Unification Wars in turian space was... not small. Capturing Omega would have required a full military invasion from the turian, asari and salarian fleets and horrendous casualties."

Trudy nodded. "There's also evidence the AIS found that - at least until Aria came along - the Council had a cozy relationship with the krogan who ran the place. Certainly they preferred to have criminals and the like in the Terminus and harassing independant asari, turian or other colonies than in the Black Rim or the inner sectors."

Shepard shook her head again. "Shit like this is why I worry about the Council being fucking indoctrinated." She paused. "Mordin, what kind of crap is in there?"

The doctor sighed. "Currently, residences and business. Gambling, nightclubs, bars, and drug dens. Very upscale, high security. Many sections sealed and closed by Aria."

Kasumi nodded. "Afterlife, in particular, is very controlled - no one gets past the third floor. I've tried getting into the sealed sections, but most of them are under hard vacuum. The few I got into are full of machinery and lots and lots of Aria's green-armored troops."

Trudy shrugged. "In any event, we're not going anywhere NEAR the Black Concourse in person, so it really doesn't matter, except in how the station is laid out."

She ran a finger along its length on the wire-frame. "The Black Concourse runs from the Mining area HQ to the very bottom of the Mids, and inside it is where the truly wealthy and powerful stay – like a dark version of the Presidium. It's basically a damned city in and of itself, and at the center is a seventeen story armored command center that doubles as a nightclub where Aria rules from - Afterlife, which Ms. Goto referred to earlier."

She exhaled. "As I said, all information we have so far indicates Archangel is operating somewhere in the Lowers. As of this morning, all searches for him in other areas of Omega suddenly stopped, so someone knows something."

Trudy bit her lip and continued. "As I was explaining to Shepard, due to the fact that Archangel has hurt them so badly, the Big Three – Blue Suns, Blood Pack, and Eclipse – demanded Aria let them hunt Archangel and bring in additional forces to do so or they'd leave to work for another warlord."

Zaeed made a dismissive tsking sound. "Bint should have let them go. But I'm guessin' she didn't, didn't want to look weak?"

Trudy nodded. "Correct. Instead she allowed them to bring in over five thousand additional troops, heavy armored vehicles, battle-suits, even combat gunships."

Solus looked up frowning, and Goto sat up straight, then winced. Shepard merely looked confused. "It's one guy, or a best a band of guys. They need a goddamned army to stop him?"

Goto smiled wanly. "Archangel has massacred more gangers and mercs in the past year and a half than anybody else but you, and without a starship. For seven months he was killing ten or more every single day, and when he took down the Twelve Bells he killed off two thousand mercenaries, bangers and slavers in a single night with three bombs and crashing an eezo transport. And they're going to be gunning for him on his home turf."

Miranda sniffed. "I begin to see more clearly why the Illusive Man is so highly impressed by him. But if that is the situation, then I assume Aria thinks these extra forces will be slaughtered by Archangel and thus no threat?"

Trudy nodded. "Most likely she's gambling on that. Except it may not be a safe gamble. Most of the thugs Archangel has run through have not been the elites. The smaller gangs he took out, like the Bells and Talons, were hardly using military hardware, and his attacks against stronger forces have been assassinations, not open fights. If they can localize Archangel and pin him with gunships and battle-suits he's going to die."

Shepard glanced at Pressly. "Thoughts?"

He folded his hands together. "I think the situation is a pretty big mess. My main concern is how much this will affect us being able to rescue him. Even if we went in with everything we had we couldn't crack Omega's defenses, so we'll have to sneak in and out. Ms. Goto says she can get us in with the help of Aria... but if these people are going to try and take her down later, that may in and of itself make us a target."

Shepard nodded and looked back at Trudy. "Is that going to be an issue?"

Trudy shrugged. "It might. Depends... mostly on how quick the gangs plan to pivot on trying to take her out. The comms intercepts we've detected don't show any sort of pre-planning for that... but Tarek, the local Blue Suns commander, is well known for being able to reorient his forces rapidly."

Zaeed shook his head. "Aria, the old girl, has gone dumb in her old age if she let Tarek run around with that many men to play with. He and Aria never did get along, and God knows who is running the Eclipse now."

Trudy shrugged. "Our comms indicate it's Relli's Kiss."

Zaeed grimaced. "Christ and Victor in a guddamned sidecar, this is gunna be bloodier than fucking Gravalax. Relli's Kiss is so fucking crazy even Jona Sederis thinks she's loony."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "I'm not up on Omega... politics... so the issue is... what?"

Solus blinked rapidly. "Blue Suns antagonistic at best to Aria. Dislike policies, feel restrained in operating in Terminus Systems, family conflict with Aria's servant batarian families. Aria careful until now – especially after Burning – to keep local forces low. Small numbers. Not a threat."

He glanced at the wire-frame. "In current situation, sufficient numbers of soldiers to overpower Aria, take station. Relli's Kiss member of ancient asari death cult, unlikely to back down. Aria cannot back down or loses mystique." He inhaled sharply. "Situation unlikely to remain calm."

Shepard shrugged. "So Trudy said. I still don't see the problem. If there's chaos of that level aboard, won't it be easier to sneak past?"

This time Goto shook her head. "No, Taicho. It's not just the fighting. Both P. and the Broker have been eyeing Omega for... decades. So have other warlords who only serve Aria reluctantly. It has been a delicately balanced house of cards for some time now, and it almost toppled in the first Burning."

She made a wavy gesture with her hands, eyes bright. "Now, the myth of Aria's invulnerability is gone, and if the gangs find Archangel and proof he was working for Aria, the entire Terminus will go up in a civil war. The Citadel will get involved, the Broker will get involved..."

Solus nodded. "And completely disrupt and distract from Collector issue." He exhaled. "If Archangel found, doesn't matter who he worked for. Suns will generate proof, topple Aria. Suspect Eclipse will not go along at that point. Broker likely to get involved. P. also. Chaos. And if warlords unite behind different groups... war."

Shepard frowned. "So... Trudy?"

The agent nodded. "Aria is NOT stupid. She knows this – she probably knew it the minute she approved them to bring on more people. She's going to be holed up deep in some bunker in the Black Concourse and gathering her people together to fight them off. At the same time, she really can't afford to let this revolution even _happen_."

Trudy glanced at Goto. "If we can get in contact with her, removing Archangel from play entirely and having the Butcher be seen as allied to him or even in charge of him would pull pressure off of her. Right now, the Terminus thinks Aria is using Archangel to winnow out threats, and he's been clever to stage things to go along with that. Aria has stated more than once she's not using him, but people won't believe that. If the Butcher shows up and pulls him out, though, people will start saying maybe he was just there to cause trouble – to turn people against Aria."

She smiled. "As a bonus, if we kill off enough of their leaders the whole plan to attack Aria will probably fall apart and she will owe us. And with those leaders weakened and Aria in power once more, that means we might be able to parlay her owing us one into something useful – Aria, according to rumors, hates the Collectors... and at some point we'll be coming back to that system to take them down."

Shepard sighed. "Okay, so that's the... what, political half of this mess? We're still at a big fat zero on how to find this guy before the gangbangers post him up. Thoughts?"

Trudy shrugged. "We could always have Goto ask Aria. She might have more information about Archangel – and even if it's dangerous for her to guarantee our safety in the Bottoms, surely she can get us information or maps about how to get into the districts without having to fight our way past gangers."

Goto scratched her head. "Aria-dono dislikes having to deal from a position of weakness and will usually refuse to do so."

Trudy nodded. "Yes – unless there is no choice and refusal leads to a worse result, which is what the gangs did to her. We only have to spin this as where she wins no matter what outcome happens."

Shepard sighed. "And there's no way we can take better advantage of this mess to get Archangel out? Turn them against Aria now rather than later?"

Goto and Solus both shook their heads, the thief speaking. "The amount of hate – and fear – the gangers have for the Archangel is... scary. Like I said, he killed literally thousands of them, Taicho. He made them look weak – and he killed many of them mockingly. They have lost their pride and if they don't kill him now they are terrified they'll be next. I think most also are convinced he is working for Aria... so they have to put him down first before going after her."

Shepard grimaced. "Fuck. Fine." She glanced at Pressly and Miranda. "If this is going to be as stupid as I suspect it is, we're going to have to fight our way in, assess the situation, medevac the wounded, and hold the gangs off long enough to get out. We can load up the pinnace with combat robots, for more ground firepower, but we won't have any other real support coming with us. So wherever this mess goes down, we have to have a way to get in and out quickly."

Miranda nodded. "Do we have any good idea of where Archangel actually is? Even which district?"

Trudy shook her head. "No. Blue Suns are moving in more people to Niftu, they've pretty much gone top to bottom over Vefu already. Gozu is a harder slog because some of the local gangs are saying the Suns and Blood Pack are using this as an excuse to grab territory."

Solus spread his hands. "Archangel unlikely to operate in Gozu. Clinic there, know district well. Interactions with his people always done at clinic... poor tradecraft to operate from same district."

He paused. "Cybernetics in people I worked on for Archangel often turian style augments. Likely work of Ripper, turian doc. Lives in Vefu. Might have connection."

Shepard exhaled. "Alright, if that's the only possible lead we have we'll have to go with it. Vigil?"

The sphere popped into existence. "Ah, a delightful gathering of the droll. What menial task have you found for me to do now, meatbag?"

She rolled her eyes. "We need to find Archangel on Omega. The only lead we have is a cybernetic doctor know by the nickname Ripper."

The sphere pulsed and a few seconds later pulsed again, rippling and deforming into a sheet of metallic mist that slowly coalesced into the profile of a turian with wide plates, thin mandibles and a cybernetic eye attachment of some kind. "Ripper. Garask Vialokian is his actual name. Served for forty seven years as a maintenance tech and forward combat engineer for the Final Line before discharged after severe injuries in conflicts with the Blood Pack. Retired to Omega almost fifteen years ago and operates a low-cost cybernetics maintenance clinic in the Vefu district. Records indicate he was relatively high in the meritocracy for a self-educated cybernetic doctor."

She nodded. "Can you get us a commlink, secure?"

The mist collapsed into a sphere. "I can attempt it. Omega's networks are a warzone and filled with enough black datatraps and AI logic bombs to be a challenge." There was a few seconds of silence, and then Vigil's voice sounded again, dripping with contempt.

"There's some kind of peyote-smoking primitive data tap on his comm lines. How quaint. Mm. Oops. Think I just killed some hacker."

Pressly shot Shepard an alarmed glance. She merely sighed. "Well?"

Vigil pulsed. "The connection is ready – voice only, and make it quick. It won't be too long before someone notices you've commed this person and then his life will be very short indeed."

She glanced at Mordin. "You've met him? Do the talking."

Mordin glanced around, then made a slight motion of surprise as the sphere pulsed. "Ripper."

"Ah, yes. This is Doctor Mordin Solus, from the Gozu Clinic."

The gritty voice on the other end gave a rusty sort of chuckle. "You've been gone a while, doc. Things have... gotten pretty bad. I had a referral from that case I sent you, old friend of yours, he's in a bad way. Infection."

Mordin's eyes narrowed. "I see. En route back to Omega now. Need location to... perform house call."

There were long seconds of silence. "That's... a problem. Be a vakar's hinds to get him to your place, true, but... pay me a visit when you get here and we'll talk."

Solus glanced at Shepard, who nodded. "Yes. Tomorrow. I may have friends who wish to help with your situation – and my friend's boss."

The voice on the other end took a hard note. "Let's talk face to face bout it first. Ripper out."

Vigil killed the signal. "...I do not think anything on Omega could have detected that, but as a precaution I am attempting to sow chaos in some of the Blue Suns datanets."

Shepard nodded. "Can you get anything from the networks from here?"

Vigil pulsed slightly. "Bits. All of the surveillance is mostly laser, fiber or optronics, so no remote hacks are possible. I'm all over the station nodes of the extranet but all of the gang sites are hardened. I could break in very easily, but while I can stop them from stopping me I can't stop them from noticing such a thing... and killing the remote link physically."

Shepard nodded. "Keep to a quiet role and see if you can pull up anything – security cams, rumors, crap on boards, whatever." She glanced at Trudy. "So, here's our plan, then. We leave as soon as we can move – load the pinnace with medical equipment and combat bots. Transition to Omega, Normandy follows full stealth."

Shepard glanced around. "By the time we get to Omega, they'll either have found him... or they won't. If it's the former, then we go with the plan." She glanced at Goto. "You get Aria to at least let us dock somewhere and scare up at least two, preferably three air transports – box trucks, haulers, whatever. While you do that, Mordin will make contact with this Ripper guy to try to get us a location. If possible, get him the fuck out of there if he is part of Archangel's team."

She paused. "Grunt will go with you to help keep you safe."

Turning to Miranda, she smiled. "You will be the rep to talk to Aria along with Goto about getting more intel or a clean path to whatever district he's operating out of, and to let us get him out. If she wants cash throw it at her."

She leaned back. "Once we get the vehicles and Mordin is back with us, we go in. We'll assess what the fuck we're going to do once we're on site and see the situation, but the simple method is to go with two teams. One team – myself, Grunt, Zaeed, Tali, and Jack – will go out into a different district and start fucking with the gangs. Once they realize the Butcher is on the station they will go apeshit."

Zaeed snorted. "Understatement of the year."

"While we're doing that, Mordin, Sedanya, and the rest of you will focus on getting to Archangel and getting him out on the pinnace. We'll draw the rest of the gangs towards the docks and the Normandy will pick us up in shuttles while spraying the area with GARDIAN fire to keep shit off of us, then immediately go stealth."

She exhaled. "That's if things go good. If they don't, then by the time we get to Archangel he'll already be under attack. In that case, we don't need his location. Goto will comm Aria to see what she can do and if we can get our hands on air transports. We'll move to the location via those transports."

Shepard paused to think, and then nodded to herself. "We'll have three teams. One team is heavy assault. That's going to be myself, Grunt, Zaeed, and the two DACT. We go in first, draw the enemy attention and do as much damage as possible."

"Second team is support team. Miranda, you'll lead that, with the rest of the Marines, Tali, Kiala, Dost, Jacob and a bunch of the mechs. You are to get into wherever Archangel is making his stand and reinforce his position, and make it secure for us to fall back. The engineers will setup omni-screens, turrets, drones, mines – anything to make it harder."

Shepard glanced at Mordin. "Doctor, you and Sedanya, with a minor handful of remaining bots, will be the medevac team. Stabilize and treat whoever is wounded and get them out. Jack will be with you to cover you if things get hairy."

She turned back to Pressly. "I need a very high explosive eezo-fuel-air bomb ready to go – that will be our goodbye card. The plan is simple – we go in, assault team hits, support team digs in while the medics prep any wounded for evac. Assault falls back while the support team opens up with suppressive fire, and we set the bomb. Robots stay behind to cover the evac as we pile in – Archangel's people take the place of the bots in the trucks we use to get there – and we pull off."

Her fist fell on the table. "The bomb goes off along with the self-destructs of the bots, wiping any evidence and hopefully killing more of the fuckers."

Miranda nodded. "What if Archangel has already prepared an exit strategy? What if he refuses to cooperate?"

Shepard shrugged. " Look. I don't know all the angles going down on Omega, but I do know when a guy starts a fight like that, he isn't worried about how to live past the finale. I'm thinking they don't have a good way out that they're willing to take, or that they don't have a way out at all. If they want to all fucking die fighting slavers then there isn't much we can do about it except pull out and try not to get killed, but let's hope it doesn't come to that sort of shit."

Pressly nodded slowly. "Another concern is extracting if the situation is hot. Even with a big bomb they will pursue the air transports... and Aria is unlikely to appreciate us crashing the docks in either scenario."

Shepard nodded. "I expect getting OUT is going to be complete fucking fun. I'm hoping Vigil will be able to fuck up enough things and hack enough stuff to get us a way out – if not, I'm not beyond shooting my way into the first ship I see and blasting it out to get in range of the Normandy. Once we're aboard the stealth system should let us get away clean."

Zaeed chuckled. "Risky, bloodthirsty, crazy. Works for me." He glanced up. "A lot of the Suns – and probably the Eclipse girls – will not even want to try to take on the Archangel and the Butcher, not even tossing me into the guddamned mix. You may wanna toss one of your scary ass videos into the extranet as we go in."

Shepard nodded. "Objections? Thoughts?"

Trudy shrugged. "It's not the most elegant operations plan I've seen, but we are hardly working with a clean environment."

Shepard nodded. "Alright, let's get moving then – I want to be ready go to in no more than two hours from now. Pressly, have Joker test all the combat systems and swap our stock missiles out for suppressive shrapnel STG missiles."

Pressly nodded, and Shepard stood. "Let's get to work."

**O-TWCD-O**

Tarek folded his arms and looked out over the expanse of the Lowers, frowning slightly. "Still nothing?"

Next to him, Jentha shook her head. "Nothing since this morning, when Vren's team fell out of contact and we found them down by the entrance to Gozo in pieces. This is a nightmare. We've lost sixty fucking scouts and the day isn't even over yet."

He nodded, picking up the magnoculars and looking out again, scanning the air-car traffic pattern with a critical eye. "The fucking trackers are useless. The varren aren't picking up a scent." He lowered the device, eyes narrowed. "Which only means his flunkies must not be operating openly anymore."

Jentha opened her mouth to speak when there was an explosion in the distance. Tarek's head snapped in that direction as he tapped his omni-tool. "Report!"

There was an agonizing scream and the sound of more explosions, before a panicked voice broke in on the comm channel. "He's here! He's _here_! Vetha and Corsus by the water exchangers! We can't – "

Another explosion, and the signal cut out. He stepped down from the railing, down to the makeshift haptic-top operations table. He tapped the location and looked at the readouts of his nearby forces.

Jentha bit her lower lip. "Too far out, sir. Nearest squads are ten minutes away..."

He growled and nodded. "I know. Damn him. We've been at this shit a week, and even if we've slowed him down we still haven't stopped him. And we're losing money every day – we had to cancel six contracts to bring in enough people and equipment."

He glanced up as a pair of sleek aircars touched down near his open-top APC, the form of Relli's Kiss stepping out. The asari was dressed in her usual body-hugging leathers, her eezo whip curled around her right arm. She was accompanied by, strangely enough, a salarian in a long black leather coat, with his eyes concealed behind a wraparound visor.

He toggled the back ramp, and she walked up the narrow ramp into the top section, giving him an appraising look that never failed to make his skin crawl. "We heard the explosions... what's the damage?"

Tarek glanced over to the table, shrugging. "Another squad. Down by the water pumps, there's enough catwalks and dark areas there that you could hide for days and not get caught. He's just fucking with us now."

She gave him a narrow smile. "Well, we've had enough of his antics. We've put together enough pieces of the puzzle that I'm confident we can pin him down a bit better now. And since we're going up against a killer..." She gestured to the salarian next to her. "...We've brought our own heavy hitters."

Tarek grunted. "A salarian?"

The salarian gave a shallow bow, his voice deeper and somehow smoother than most salarians. "Yes. My name is Shift."

Tarek managed not to recoil. Shift was a terrifyingly famous biotic assassin, exiled from salarian space and the STG for crimes unknown. A master of biotic 'waking meditation', Tarek had seen videos of some of his work, especially one where he'd battled and destroyed a heavy armored gunship with nothing more than biotics and acrobatics. Many considered him nearly as dangerous as Tyriun no Kage back in the days when that monster still lived.

"I... see. This is good. Although I was under the impression you worked for the Citadel Legion of the Blue Suns, not _Eclipse_."

The salarian shrugged. "Ginnister Vosque did not want to pay my rates... and he has taken in Vido Santiago. I do not think that is a wise choice of actions, given our old friend Zaeed's likely reaction. I frankly grow tired of the day-to-day grind of mercenary works, as like to be challenged as well... hunting the Archangel himself is a good final act before I retire from this business, I think."

Tarek snorted. "And how would you plan to hunt him? We've had chemical sniffers, hunting varren, hackers, packs of wandering patrols, even some Eclipse joy girls sleeping about looking for rumors. We have found nothing."

Shift tilted his head. "You are playing _his_ game. He wants you to look, to spread out, so that you are vulnerable. He is known to be operating in a sealed environmental suit, so you cannot track him. He has to have associates who do not have access to such, or who are distinctive enough to be remembered, and the fact that you have not found them means they are being careful or remaining at where they are based out of."

Tarek growled. "Yes, I know this."

The salarian shrugged. "But you are overlooking something more fundamental."

Tarek folded his arms. "And what is that?"

Shift gave a thin twitch of the mouth that might be a smile. "The nature of his terror. The main reason the Archangel has been so successful is due to that battle armor he wears. No one has really lived long of enough to get a good look at it, but the Blue Suns did manage to put together some minor footage of the suit in action."

Shift lifted his arm, tapping his omni-tool. "I had a chat with an old turian battle-suit pilot. From the bits of footage we have, he believes the Archangel is using some kind of heavily modified SKYTALON battle-suit. The standard weapons load is missing, and it has clearly been upgraded for urban operations."

Tarek rubbed at his scalp. "And that tells me what? He's some Deathwatch assassin?"

Shift shook his head and gestured. "Not at all. The Deathwatch wouldn't use such a thing. This appears to be a custom job – hardly surprising, as such suits do not come out of nowhere. There is a manufacturer that alters them for certain... _special_ uses."

Relli's Kiss spoke. "My own sources say that whoever is doing this is more likely law enforcement than pure military. The attention paid to the evidence left behind and the not killing civilians parts point to that. Deathwatch could care less about casualties."

Tarek glanced at Relli's Kiss, then back at Shift. "A cop. Huh. That... explains a few things." He frowned. "When you say special... what kind of special?"

The salarian glanced down. "The rumors place the work as something done for P. We can't confirm that. We do know, however, that the manufacturer was investigated about two years ago, several non-turians working in the company were indicted and executed for smuggling some of the suits out of the Hierarchy to 'criminal elements' for resale."

Tarek narrowed his eyes. "And you think the Archangel is using one such suit?"

Shift nodded. "My own research shows that at least one merchant in the network of Edat Kurass was known to have such an item. I'm still having data trawls run on his purchases, but one thing is very clear – he WAS on Omega."

He tapped a final set of control on his omni. "Once I have a name we can see if anything turns up about his operations or properties. He was rumored to have kept himself legally clean... so I doubt he was one of the Archangel's victims. So either he sold this to the Archangel... or he died and the Archangel found it. Either way, if we can locate him and his property we will have a good lead to investigate."

Tarek nodded. "...That is a good line of inquiry." He glanced over at Relli's Kiss. "Any more surprises?"

She shrugged. "A few. The hacker I spoke to is convinced that Archangel and his team have cybernetics, because the weapons they use are so heavy. That means he needs a professional cyber doc, and there are not many in the lowers. Aria's been watching them closely, and I suspect we need to take a look at them ourselves."

Tarek nodded. "Huh. Makes sense. Solus, you think?"

She shook her head. "Solus left off-station a while back and still isn't here, and he is very high profile and visible. I doubt it. It's one of the chopshops, probably Halaskin given how much he had problems with the Shadows back in the day. Ripper and Mithar both have the Blue Kiss, so it's harder to bust them up and ask them questions."

Tarek shrugged. "I'm not really worried about a few greensuits. Anything else?"

She smirked. "Yes, actually. Apparently the Shadow Broker has an interest in this mess as well. He's sending a wetwork team to Omega... lead by none other than Tazzik himself."

Tarek's eyes widened. "...By the Pillars. Is he _insane_? Aria will – "

Relli's Kiss snorted. "Aria can go warp herself. We all know damned good and well Archangel works for her. It's fucking obvious. That should tell you just what she has planned for us in the long run. I say why wait? The Broker doesn't turn on his own people, the Broker pays well and above all else the Broker has no interest in trying to run Omega – too open for his taste."

She gestured around. "And we both know the Blood Pack's days are limited. Jona hates them, Okeer is fucking dead, and Wrex is taking charge on Tuchanka. This station is ours, if we just take it."

Tarek frowned. "That's still easier said than done. Aria has a lot of power. I've gone along with this idea of yours, but none of the warlords have responded."

The asari's smirk only widened. "Yes... but with the Archangel dead and exposed... and with us having a good excuse to bring a lot of extra manpower and equipment to Omega... we have a window to strike. The warlords are still leery after the Burning, and they're not going to take a stand until they see we have a chance." She smiled wider still. "And Aria has no idea my girls are inside her dancers."

Tarek said nothing, but merely turned to look out over the broken urban landscape of the Lowers. "...Let's concentrate on taking down Archangel first, then we'll see where we stand. I'm certainly not opposed to the idea. But Archangel is costing me too much to ignore. Despite your confidence in the forces we have, I don't think he's going to go down quietly and quickly enough for us to just take Aria out in the aftermath."

Relli's Kiss caressed the length of her eezo whip and gave him a smile. "Leave that part of it to me. You focus on bringing down the Archangel - you are correct, he is the more significant threat. When it comes time for us to consider our next steps, we'll see how much we have left to fight with."

Tarek didn't know what worried him more - the fact that she was making rational sense or the way she was stroking that eezo whip.

**O-TWCD-O**

Garrus lurched to a stop inside the small bay where he got out of the SKYTALON, blinking fatigue out of his eyes. Melenis was quiet as she helped him to sit down and began unbolting the shoulders of the suit, grimacing at the blood spattered over everything. "Bad?"

He gave a weak nod. "Took some pretty hard hits this time. Without cover fire from snipers and hackers keeping the drones off me, things are rougher." He winced as she pulled the shoulder sections off, reaching up to his neck to rub where the helmet chafed.

Melenis knelt to work on the leg segments. "Butcher put out another video. Angel thinks you need to see it."

Garrus flicked a mandible. "What did she blow up now?"

Melenis smiled faintly. "That's just it. Nothing yet. Here." She tapped her omni, triggering a small view-screen on the wall, while she moved behind him to unhook the arms.

The video, like all of the Butcher's videos, was crisp and free of any distortion. It showed what looked like standard security cam footage – from inside the Black Promenade, some distance from Afterlife.

"You think that you are winning, scum of Omega. You think that you have harried the Archangel enough that you can kill him, if only enough of you cowards can gather in one place and cease pissing yourselves in fear long enough to actually pull a trigger rather than drown in your own blood for once."

The image shifted, to one of several figures in an open-top APC... who looked alarmed after seeing himself on the broadcast, and then looked right at the camera. The Butcher's voice was chilling and taunting. "I _see _you."

"I am coming."

"I have slain Okeer, who died like a whelp, unable to beat an asari in single combat, I put your Last Stop to the torch, killing thousands, I put three hundred thousand to the sword and orbital bombardment on Umlor. If you think your pathetic few thousands on Omega stand a chance, stay and fight me. If not …"

"Run while you can. The Archangel tried to bring you justice, and a chance to turn from your vileness. I only bring you death."

Garrus leaned forward, as Melenis pulled the chest section away, then stood to step out of the rest of the suit. "I'm not sure if that is a good or bad thing, to be honest."

Melenis lifted the first of the armor pieces up, carrying it to the sonic sink. "If she's coming here, and she knows we're in trouble...she might be able to help us."

He grunted. "Maybe. I don't have a good feel for her motivations…"

Angel's voice broke in over the commlink. "Garrus, when you get unsuited, come to the comms room. It's Ripper."

Garrus tapped his omni-tool. "On my way." He glanced over his shoulder at Melenis, then headed off in the direction of the comms room.

The former warehouse had been segmented and reinforced over the past year, and more heavily in the past three months. The basement – mostly storage areas – had been sealed with heavy blockades of metal and concrete and turned into a workshop and armory. The main floor had a series of heavy barricades and an entry tunnel with switch backs for defense, opening into a main common area with a kitchen and eating area off to the left.

As he came up out of the basement and past the kitchen, he saw the rest of the first floor. The far side was taken up mostly by doors leading to small living areas and the couches and haptic screen in the main common area. He took the staircase up to the second floor, which was split between the medical area, the comms and sensor lab, and an upper room overlooking the approach bridge that was a mix of lounge and possible sniper perch.

The comms lab was, as usual, full of hacking equipment, bits of computers, comms gear and the like. Weaver sat in front of one bank of haptic screens, working on something in code, while Vortash and Butler were adjusting something on the big comms array setup.

Angel stood in front of the comms screen, frowning. Garrus noticed the man's thin beard had gone almost totally white in the past year, and new lines and wrinkles marred his forehead and the flesh around his eyes.

"I'm here. What have you got?"

Angel nodded briskly. "New set of comm intercepts for one – the Eclipse is bringing heavy hitters. The only one we've got hard ID on now is a salarian mystic and biotic named Shift. Very dangerous, definitely more than Melenis or Mierin can handle in a biotic fight."

Garrus nodded. "How bad is it? I just got back from a long run in Gozu again, took out most of their scout teams."

Angel shrugged. "Bad. We've gone over the bridge with enough ammonia and pine oil that there's no trace... but sooner or later they'll review the maps of where they have looked and start poking around where they haven't. I figure... three days, max. Vefu is almost completely searched, and given how hard you're hitting them in Gozu that will probably be next, but they have a LOT of people now."

Angel pulled up an image on the screen, that of an old model turian battle-suit. "They also have six old RAPTORFALL suits. Not anywhere near as tough as your SKYTALON, but there's six of them and they all have heavy weapons. We've seen snippets of comms that suggest they also have some heavy mechs and Tarek brought along a damned heavy gunship."

Garrus nodded. "...I can probably bring down two or three of those battle-suits, but if it turns into a running fight with all six they can take me apart." He sighed. "And the escape plan?"

Angel grimaced. "It still doesn't look good. Butler's spent the past ten hours working on the shuttle – we can at least get it moving. That stack of older mechs in the basement – we got fifteen of them working, and Krul is hard welding the spare armor suits we have onto them so it looks like there are more of us than there really are."

He tapped his omni and a map of the immediate area popped up. "The warehouse is at the end of the third-level shelf. There's an access shaft that heads straight into the upper parts of Gozu here." He gestured to the wide open space off to one side. "Assuming we can keep them tied up enough, we can blow through that port in the shuttle and hit the mainline traffic link to the mids."

Garrus sighed. "Aria's people will take us apart there – no place to hide."

Angel smiled. "That's why before we do it, we stop the shuttle and get out in those access tunnels you found that aren't on the map. We fly the shuttle into the mids and let them blow it while we walk around the lower section and come out at the docks. It's going to be an ugly rush to the ship, but we think we can make it."

Garrus nodded. "Erash isn't any better though, and we never did hack through the ship's controls."

Angel smiled. "We know. What we're hoping, though, is that it won't matter. The ship has a better medical room than we do, and once we're aboard – if people buy that we blew up in the shuttle – the heat should be off for a while. If we can get a message to a doc we trust then they can just come to the ship with no one the wiser."

Garrus thought about it and then flicked a mandible. "Might work."

Angel tapped something on his omni. "The second thing is Ripper sent us a message on the tight beam laser link. He said Mordin Solus contacted him out of the blue, says he'll be on Omega tomorrow and is working for someone interested in helping. Solus wanted to know where we were when Ripper told him Erash was sick, but Ripper didn't trust the commlink to say it out loud. Says Solus will visit his shop tomorrow."

Garrus nodded. "Is Ripper still under Aria's observation?"

Angel sighed. "Yes. But oddly enough, Solus' clinic isn't. If we can get Solus here and he can treat Erash... getting out is a fuck of a lot easier."

Garrus' voice flanged slightly. "Maybe. The Butcher is also claiming to be coming here. What do you think of that?"

The big ex-Marine turned away from the console to face Garrus squarely. "Honestly? No idea. No matter what kind of face you put on it, what she does is different than what we do. We did this to protect the people. She's out there butchering anything that pisses her off. And she was making statements about you a while back like she knew you."

Garrus flicked a mandible, rolling his shoulders as he did so. "I know. And it has me... curious. All the rumors say she's flying an invisible ship and one of the stories says she has a quarian with her. I can't help but wonder if that's an old friend of mine, Tali'Zorah."

He turned, staring out the open doorway and out into the common area. "In any event, if she does come here that will take pressure off of us, so it's a good thing. We need all the help we can get at this point."

Angel sniffed. "Amen to that. We've got as much plating and drop turrets in place as we can, and we've got weapons set out. I've told everyone to stay armed and in their armor until... well, something blows up. They could find us at any minute at this point." He paused. "I think you should get some rest and then not do any more sorties."

Garrus turned to look at him. "Why?"

Angel gestured to where Butler was still working. "Without Erash we're being outhacked. Losing a lot of coverage from the security cams and more and more commlinks are going dead. At this point we have no way to back you up out there...and that suit won't help much in a fight with a powerful biotic. Better to get rested and finish digging in."

Garrus shrugged. "In that case, why not go ahead and make part of the escape run now? Move Erash and a few others to the ship – "

Angel shook his head. "Can't. Right now there's still Blue Suns and Blood Pack all over the docks, and they're moving people into Niftu now. Besides, we still need to finish the engine overhaul, and that will take a day to make sure it works. We can't afford the shuttle going down."

His voice lowered. "Plus, we'll need every person we've got here to hold this place."

Garrus sighed. "...In that case, I'm going to eat and get some sleep. Wake me up if you get another message from Ripper." He walked out of the comms room, and Angel turned back to helping Butler work on the comms system.

As Garrus came down the stairs, he saw Mierin, Vortash and Montague watching the haptic screen. The even-voiced and immaculately painted turian reporter on the screen spoke in even tones.

"More chaos today on Illium, where a local fusion reactor suffered some sort of catastrophic failure after reported gunfire. The Reclaimed Sisterhood, a group of asari outcasts working together to counter the more outre elements of Ilium's culture and long rumored to be connected to the Sisters of Vengeance, were completely destroyed when the reactor went up in an explosion that leveled six sky-towers. Reports on the scene place the casualties at well over a hundred thousand dead, with tens of thousands more badly injured and irradiated."

The asari sitting next to him had a grave expression on her face. "Officials fear that the number of dead will skyrocket in coming days due to said radiation and injuries with radioactive shrapnel. Salarian and Volus relief and rescue teams are on the way, as well as the Human Red Cross. So far, the leaders of Illium have not stated a need for disaster relief, but the Council is prepared to dispatch additional assistance."

The turian nodded. "As for who is behind this, investigators are still searching for the causes - and perpetrators - of the explosion and have drawn in several Spectres to lead the search. The head of the Ilium Trade Relations Board believes the explosion was most likely caused by clanless separatists seeking to counteract the influx of members of the Thirty buying up properties. Six members of House Vabo were killed in the explosion as well."

Vortash snorted. "So much for the Sisters of Vengeance. This is why it's unwise to piss directly into the Broker's face."

Mierin shot him a sour look. "The Reclaimed did a lot of good on the streets of Ilium. They were very critical of the Broker and of some of the corporations, but... I doubt they were behind the Sisters. The Reclaimed were never violent, and the Sisters were very messy."

Garrus sat down wearily, and his voice was wry. "You push someone long enough and far enough and they can end up doing anything."

Mierin shrugged. "Maybe. How is it out there? We heard you blew up some stuff..."

Garrus leaned back. "Bagged most of their scout teams, but it's too hot to do anything else. Angel wants us to dig in hard and wait for them to come to us."

Vortash grinned, displaying his needle-like teeth. "Excellent. I grow tired of waiting."

Montague gave him a sour stare. "Some of us do not wish to be vaporized just yet." He turned to face Garrus. "The traps on the bridge and the main approach are ready, and the explosives in the access tunnels are set if they find them. I also rigged up some supply caches in the surrounding districts, so if they do any scavenging they'll eat a box of hi-ex."

Garrus nodded. "Good. How are we on food?"

The Frenchman shook his head. "We have enough rations to last another month, although there are more dextro than levo. As for real food, enough for a good meal tonight and one more tomorrow. The evaporator and water recycler are in good shape."

Garrus leaned back. "...Then all we can do is wait." He glanced at the news, showing a story about the Shepard Memorial Flame on Dirth, and then looked away.


	27. Arc II : OMGWTFBBQ!

_**A/N**:_

_Back is still jacked up, but with enough Vicodin anything is possible! Here is the first part of **Judge Dredd : Turian Beatdown **... I mean, Omega.  
_

_I'll let the chapter speak for itself instead of ranting about it incoherently. As usual, t__hanks to the Editing Gang for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes. They deserve more credit than I do._

_Also, some of you have not reviewed Aberron's and RED78910's work. This makes me haz a sad._

* * *

_'Fire, bright like the kiss of a dying star, flew across Omega's limbs, searing as the kisses of a lover made of starstuff. Dancing in the flames, a stick figure of bright light, of wings and claws and a single cold blue eye that made me long for death, for silence, for anything than to stand under that gaze and know ... I would suffer and scream before the Bright One would allow me to die...'  
_

_\- Vesah Jedthrien, clanless asari Eclipse Sister, poetry written for a contest, from her lift chair about the Archangel's Ascent Incident on Omega  
_

* * *

Garrus looked out over the narrow access bridge leading to the warehouse one last time before turning away, focusing on keeping his breathing slow, his muscles and spurs steady despite his pounding heartbeat. He narrowed his eyes as he turned, before tapping his visor's control pin once, shifting to a new set of songs on his combat soundtrack.

_Better enjoy the music while I can. Things are going to get loud now, or very soon, _he mused.

The crew had done everything they could to harden the warehouse. Every interior wall was draped with energy mesh and splinter netting, and the upper stairway area was fortified with hardened firing positions covering the entire lower floor. Medigel and other supplies were tucked away in the upper rooms, along with the comms systems that Weaver and Sensat would use to remotely control the small fleet of drones currently parked on the roof.

Angel had carefully drilled everyone on the proper fire-lanes and personally gone over each person's loadout. Every last one of them, even Melenis, now sported a shotgun of some kind, a battle rifle, and a belt of grenades, and was wearing full environmentally sealed armor, in case the Blue Suns tried to use gas.

Given that Melenis and Mierin were hardly powerful biotics, pulse dissipators and phase disruptors had been placed around the warehouse, with more in grenade form ready to be thrown. There was nothing much their standard weapons could do against genuine heavy units like gunships, but they had a collection of heavy weapons – Hydra missiles, Kraken launchers, lance cannons – ready to fire if they could take the shot against a heavy armor unit or a clump of attackers.

Fifteen rapid-fire turrets dotted the warehouse roof, each protected by cobbled-together kinetic barriers and painstakingly reforged armor plates made from recycled personal armor they'd looted or captured. Four of the turrets were double-barreled lance cannons, the rest were heavy machine guns and anti-materiel guns. All were controlled remotely from within.

Six air-cars loaded with high explosives had been carefully concealed in a narrow ledge above the warehouse – remote piloted, they were designed to be hurled down onto any attackers and detonate.

Ten more turrets bulked in the front entryway of the warehouse, mostly short range weapons like shotguns and flamers. The warehouse's front entry gates were welded shut and plated with armaplast, with a pair of vehicle-grade kinetic barriers backing that up. Weaver and Sensat would be tucked away in the comm center controlling these, as well as the handful of mechs the team had. Each mech was carefully dressed in combat armor to make their numbers look larger, but they only had a dozen of them, and they were older SLEPNIR mechs not likely to make a big contribution. Montague had suggested strapping them with bombs, but they had enough explosive delivery methods already.

And given what they were intended for - distractions and misdirection - their fighting ability didn't matter as much as their capacity to take fire, he mused as he headed down the stairs.

Vibraplate shrapnel mines were scattered throughout the approach to the narrow sector connection leading to the warehouse, along with a number of other traps. Cheap anti-personnel mines were hidden behind a fake wall, lining the proper wall and ready to drown an enemy force in a deluge of steel balls. Half a dozen flechette sprayers were strategically placed in the corners of one of the hallways, covering approach routes.

But the real prize, as far as Garrus was concerned, was the single Glaive siege mine they got their hands on shortly before things started falling apart. Designed by the Systems Alliance R&amp;D for use by the SAMC, it fired multiple eezo-driven staggered waves of mono-filament wire sheathed in pyroacidic gel and was capable of reducing an entire regiment of heavy infantry to so many chunky sirefucking pieces. It was his hope to infuriate the attackers - especially the krogan - into a mad charge and funnel them towards the Glaive siege mine. They planned to coordinate a defense in depth – falling back slowly from the outer perimeter to the inner one, and then across the bridge to the warehouse itself.

If Garrus had figured Tarek correctly, the Blue Suns commandant would lead with his strongest forces and battle-suits. If those could be crippled or taken out in the narrow confines leading to the warehouse, then they could stand off most of the rest of the attack for some time. Vortash, Krul and Montague were already dug into defensive pillboxes in the outer areas, each one heavily booby-trapped as well.

A detonated bomb once the gang slime started their attack would breach a pair of high energy plasma conduits onto the main force, covering Vortash and Krul's retreat. A second but far more powerful blast, at the narrow corridor leading to the staging area outside of the warehouse proper, would do the same when set off by Montague.

Tiny cameras were hooked up next to the detonation areas, so that if Tarek or Relli's Kiss tried to flush them out with fodder the detonations could be delayed until real valuable units got close. Montague's position was the furthest back and he would have a dicey time getting clear, but they could cover him from the warehouse proper, and his expertise in triggering the traps was crucial.

Garrus walked out of the warehouse, glancing around at the turrets before double-checking his energy levels.

There were a series of access tunnels – high up on the walls, out of reach of ground forces – that he would be using to harry and enrage the attackers. But as Angel had pointed out, he had to be careful – if he got pinned down in battle with multiple battle-suits, his life would end quickly.

The biggest advantage they had was that the access path was simply too narrow for any kind of armored vehicles to really get through, at least the main path. There was a flight corridor for incoming and outgoing cargo transports, which Garrus expected Tarek to fly at least one gunship through, but the man could also try to land more forces inside the warehouse area via aircar. The gunship would be hardened, but Butler had rigged up an EMP pulsar inside the corridor that would probably wreck and crash any air-cars coming through, at least until the Suns managed to shut it down.

The tunnels, with one exception, were sealed off and rigged to collapse. The single escape tunnel went to the single shuttle that was still in flyable condition. The other two shuttles were in better shape but had no ability to FTL, which meant they could not use them to escape Omega. Those shuttles were filled with explosives, and would be crashed into the invaders as soon as they began moving into mid Niftu and clearly coming after them.

Sidonis and Mierin were on long scout duty, and had picked off a pair of scouts getting a bit close earlier in the morning. Each one was in sealed armor, and had dusted themselves with lye and pepper to throw off scent trackers. Both of them had a hoverbike to punch out on if they saw a big force, but they were keeping an eye out for independent scouts.

So far... nothing. Garrus knew that wouldn't last. It was only a matter of time before the Suns or some other hacker managed to find the deleted references to the warehouse in the station manifest. Or when the main body finished their search in Gozu and began moving upwards in Niftu.

Garrus didn't overestimate their chances. Best case scenario was the leaders of the assault getting killed off early by the traps, fighting breaking out among the gangs, and the team using the chaos to get to the shuttle and the docks. If they couldn't get aboard the Wind Dagger's ship or get it started, they could still use the shuttle to fly to the nearest system and hopefully get transport elsewhere.

They'd converted as much cash as possible to eezo and other easy to haul commodities in plans for that. But while Angel was optimistic, Garrus didn't think Tarek was that stupid. More likely, they could heavily cripple his force – blow up his fancy battle-suits, kill his heavy hitters – and force him into a direct frontal assault on the warehouse.

Between the turrets, the heavy weapons, the air-cars, and sniping, Garrus figured they could break at least two or three charges of the gangs. If the Blue Suns sent in gunships, maybe they could take one out with the turrets and heavy weapons launchers before those were destroyed.

More than likely, the gunships would blast open his defenses, take out the turrets, and rake the base with fire. They'd be forced back, into the inner areas, and then into the tunnels.

It wouldn't take Tarek long to figure out likely places to have the tunnel come out at, or to throw his remaining assets into a net blocking the docks. That left flying the shuttle to the outer hull, blowing through it, and praying Aria's space defenses didn't lock them up and blow the tark-shit out of them.

He flicked a mandible. They were all going to die, most likely. They could buy some time to slip away by using the mechs, making the gang think they were still fighting, but that ruse would be seen through in minutes, as soon as they searched the bodies. Blowing the entire warehouse might or might not make that a viable trick.

He came to a stop at the end of the bridge, tapping his omni-tool to query the det charges set inside the bridge itself. As he did so, his commlink pinged. "Here."

Sidonis' voice was tense and flanged, his words hissed. "Problems. Suns and Blood Pack had a shootout with some greenshits, and stormed Halaskin's cybernetics lab. Five minutes later, and they just moved a big unit of heavies back towards Vefu all of a sudden."

Garrus swore. "Did we ever do business with Halaskin?"

Mierin's voice was soft. "No. But Ripper did quite a bit. Most of the cybernetics he got for me and Vortash came from Halaskin. I don't think Halaskin knew... but if Halaskin kept records, they'd be really interested in why he sold mil-spec silver to Ripper."

Garrus tapped another commlink. "Butler. Is the laser link to Ripper still up?"

The human's voice was grim. "Yeah. He just called. Halaskin says the gangs are coming for the cyberdocs. He's wiping his records now."

Garrus ground his teeth. "We have to – "

Angel's deep voice cut in tiredly. "We can't do anything, Garrus. Ripper knew the risks when he decided he couldn't abandon the needs of Vefu to go into hiding with the rest of us. We don't have the manpower – or firepower – to get into a running battle in the open with the Suns and you know it."

Garrus bowed his head. "Spirits..."

Butler spoke. "Ripper... he just killed the link, boss. Last thing he said was to keep the light going a bit longer."

Garrus nodded faintly. "Was this worth it, Angel?"

The ex-Marine didn't respond for several seconds. "It depends on how you look at it. Vengeance is never worth anything, Garrus. Justice only exists when people have the strength to demand to be able to live a life without terror. But this was never about vengeance, or justice. It was about protecting those who couldn't. About reminding those in power that acts have a cost."

Angel's voice grew stronger. "Ripper chose to stay because he was helping people. Because his clinic was the only thing between life and death for hundreds of people. And I don't think he regrets a thing, because if you had not done what you have, most of the people he's been able to help in the past year would have already been dead."

Garrus lifted his armored head. "Maybe. Maybe I'm too used to... trying to see things in black and white. Gangs and innocents. But I always thought he'd survive this even if we didn't. That he could keep making a difference... after we were all dead."

Angel's voice softened. "So did I, Garrus. But God tests us for reasons we rarely understand. And that test is soon to be upon us. You are ready?"

He exhaled. "Yeah, I'm ready. Butler, prep the shuttles."

**O-TWCD-O**

In the back of his rundown clinic, Ripper sprayed plasma over the link computer and the medical database he'd built. He knew, ultimately, it would only delay the inevitable – they would go through his various accounts and find his off-site backups, and that would lead them straight to the warehouse.

But they were going to find the warehouse sooner or later anyway. He figured at this point, the only goals he had left were to delay that as long as possible and give the team more time to dig in or find a way out.

He glanced around the front office area of his clinic, a faint quiver to his mandibles. For a turian he was old, his plates battered and scarred and a good portion of his body sacrificed to the Hierarchy and replaced with cybernetics. As he looked around he thought of the people he had helped over the years – victims of gang violence, people with inoperable nerve disorders, industrial accident victims.

His clinic would be missed once he was gone... but death was but a few years away for him anyway. Toxic shock syndrome and various cancers were racking his frame already … best to die as one lived, fighting the good fight.

Ripper paused to pick up his custom-built war-cannon and smiled as the front door buckled under the impact of some heavy strike or blow. He could hear the commotion outside, and mused that the good fight had come to him. Efficient.

With a second blow the door burst open, and he fired, twelve APP rounds blasting in a buckshot pattern into the entryway. The krogan manning the kinetic ram that had taken the door down came apart messily from the blast, as did the two burly batarians behind him. More batarians, in Blue Suns armor, stormed into the front of the shop, firing as they ran, ducking behind the front desk and parts station for cover.

Ripper put a shot through the desk, blasting it in half and killing the batarian using it for cover, before tapping his omni-tool. Two hand-built turrets in the ceiling swung down and began rapidly firing on everything in the front office, even as he ducked into the back rooms and shut the heavy security door.

His operating clinic – twenty years out of date and full of second-hand equipment – was a blur as he moved past toward the back entrance. He triggered the second security door leading to the back even as the back access door was broken down. He smiled as the intruders tripped the security system, and a mass effect field flung twenty feet of mono-molecular wire into a razor-tangle into their faces.

He almost sniggered at their screams. What kind of idiots tried breaking into a lab full of expensive equipment on Omega of all places without checking for traps?

He had only minutes left, and he was going to make the bastards pay. He heard the turrets out front cease firing as they were shot to pieces, even as he unscrewed various canisters of chemicals in the corner, heading with them to the battery charging station.

"Ripper! Give up and this will be quick! Tell us where the fuck Archangel is!"

Ripper shouted back "Pronging your _mother_!" and continued his task. He flexed his fringe in amusement as he continued adding things to the battery station before hooking it up to the main power conduit of his clinic. He reloaded his weapon, and spent two minutes shoving furniture and lab tables around to form cover while the gangs attempted to blast or hack their way through the heavy security doors.

He'd just finished up with the barricades when he heard the back doors begin to splinter, and a chiming sound from the front one. As he ducked into position, the main security door shuddered and slid open – hacked, he figured. Heavily armored Blue Suns centurions stormed through, firing shotguns as they came.

Ripper's war-cannon vomited forth a cloud of rounds, tearing down the barrier of the first goon and sending pieces of him spattering against the wall. The second shot didn't breach the charging batarian in heavy armor's shields, unfortunately.

With a roar the batarian leapt over his makeshift barricades, leveling the shotgun. Ripper clucked and swung with his free hand.

As he swung, the cybernetic arm attachment that he took his nickname from extended. The omni-tool driven rotating blades sliced the batarian's weapon arm off at the elbow, and the ganger gave a scream of agony.

Ripper slashed him across the eyes with his chain-blade and kicked him back, fouling the charging forms of more Blue Suns. He fired wildly, killing two more, and was about to execute a third when security door in the back gave way.

Ripper had time to turn before the two bleeding, angry looking Eclipse asari in the doorway hit him with a warp. His last memory was to laugh as he fell back, burning, and triggered his omni-tool.

Cybernetic devices are power-hungry, and like most cyberdocs, Ripper preferred to build his own energy systems, and had large amounts of highly volatile materials in his cyber-lab to do so with. He'd long ago rigged up a detonator for them, and his last omni-tool action triggered it. The sixty pounds of lithium, phosphorous, caesium and the like all had their containment fail at the same time, along with the entire energy output of the lab and the fifty gallon water tank.

The explosion that tore through the building was more than the older walls could take. Almost forty Blue Suns and Eclipse troopers were killed instantly by the blast, over two hundred more took shock and impact damage, shrapnel and burns. Two battle-suits were hit by flying debris and crushed, and the explosion incinerated one of the best Blue Suns hackers and two Eclipse lieutenants.

Tarek, watching from some distance away, cursed blackly. "Have the hacking team keep at his backups and records. Do we have any other leads that haven't fucking exploded yet?"

One of the Eclipse lieutenants shrugged. "Halaskin didn't explode so much as douse the team with highly concentrated acids." She scowled, the black Eclipse tattoo on her face twisting her expression. "Final search teams are finishing up in Gozu now."

Tarek sighed. "This is not going to end well." He glared at Relli's Kiss. "And your people aren't helping much, either. Can't they do something...biotic screens or something?"

The bigger asari next to Relli's Kiss shook her head. Her complicated black and red facial markings twisted and moved like animals as she spoke, her expression almost blank. "Not as much as you'd think. The Sisterhood is adept at using our biotics offensively and to neutralize conventional firepower...none of this is conventional. A barrier isn't much use against high explosives or long range irregular sniper fire."

Tarek sighed grimly. "So we're going to be blown up and shot to pieces and there's no idea where the bastard is to stop him?"

Relli's Kiss gave him a shrug, as she finished taking a hit of red sand and reapplied her respiration device. "Oh Tarek... you worry too much. Like Miaela said, my scouts are finishing up with Gozu now, so we know he's in Niftu. All we do is form up in heavy lines and march through the whole district while your gunships pin down any traffic trying to leave. This is almost done with... and then the real fun can start."

Tarek grimaced, turning to Jentha. "Yeah, because fighting Aria in the Black Concourse will be so much fun. Our casualties?"

Jentha read from a pad. "Five heavy Centurions, Carleston, our hacker, at least thirty others." She tapped the pad again. "...Also nine scouts failed to report in on time. Six in Niftu mids, three assigned to the cyberclinic run by Mithar."

Tarek grunted, and glanced back at the hulking form of Durm, the leader of the Blood Pack. "Have your varren found anything?"

The big krogan shrugged, looking off into the distance. "Several trails in Niftu and Vefu fouled by pepper and lye. Some ugly shrapnel traps rigged up to fresh meat. He knows we're coming, and he'll probably have something nasty on the way in."

Tarek nodded sourly at that, pulling up a map of the station on his omni. "Jentha, have Karuz take five squads with a battlesuit over to Mithar. If he starts anything or refuses entry or to open his records, use the gas rockets and kill him clean before he has a chance to pull what Ripper just did." He turned to a swarthy batarian with ritual scars on his cheeks. "Monos, detail off five more squads, go through the fucking habblocks and get someone to fucking talk. Start torching people if they don't spill."

Relli's Kiss laughed at that. "You think you can draw him out if you start killing his precious innocents?"

Tarek shrugged. "I can only hope he's that Pillars-damned stupid, but no. I'm guessing someone knows something. And every hour we're sifting through Niftu and Gozu that bastard is digging in more."

The asari rolled her eyes. "Tarek, dear. We have over two thousand here, and more up-station. How much damage can he really do?"

The batarian killed his omni-tool. "Did you forget the Butcher's little message? Archangel is dangerous, but if it was just him and his little gang, I'd not have a worry in the world. But Emperor only knows what that crazy bitch is going to try to do."

The Eclipse lieutenant shook her head. "Like _what_? Attack the station to get at us? Blather and hype, that's all that is."

Tarek gave her a dubious look. "Riiiight. And I'm sure that's just what Okeer thought right before she snuck past an entire planetary defense net and wrecked his shit. I would rather not wait around for her to show up."

**O-TWCD-O**

High above the Black Walk, Aria stared out the smoked glass windows at the elongated rows of buildings and businesses that filled the Concourse. Gaudy lights flashed against smoky backdrops, while milling crowds walked the streets, secure in their power.

Beyond, carefully guarding the Black Gate, was a large group of her personal commando guard, augmented carefully by many of Bray's security types and a handful of other specialists she'd hired. Higher up in the tower above Afterlife, her command and control center was buzzing with extra hackers and netrunners, while an entire team of snipers waited in heavy stealth atop balconies and buildings.

Six cutting edge Nightstream battle-suits from the Asari Republic stalked through the streets accompanied by marching ranks of newly purchased salarian combat mechs, while a dozen heavy gunships slowly cruised high above the Black Walk, sensors active.

The grating voice of Aethyta broke Aria's ruminations. "You look a little worried."

Aria did not deign to turn to face the older matriarch, instead waving a hand dismissively. "I'm well aware of what those fools think they can pull off after they kill Archangel. I've actually determined where his little hideout is for a while. Clever location, but the merchant who owned the warehouse was working for me, and that suit he's using was something I originally wanted for... an old friend of mine. Once I got a good look at it, the pieces all fell together"

Aethyta grimaced and slowly walked forward. She was still recovering from the surgery to fix her snapped spinal column, the cybernetic interface still raw and painful in her lower back. Thankfully, at her age her regenerative abilities wouldn't present a problem for a decade or so.

"Not sure why you called me up here, unless you like watching me limp around in pain."

The asari queen's lips curled ever so slightly. "As amusing as that is, no. I merely wish you to... observe." She gestured almost airily at the grand view from the wide armaplast window. "You see, I've done a great deal of thinking since you have become my guest. Originally I wanted to kill you – more for your insolence than what you did in my past."

Aethyta frowned. "And why is that?"

Aria turned, her face cast into shadows by the lights from the Black Walk, lengthening her features into a sharp, dark mask. "As much as I would prefer to gut you and turn you into a footrug for how you ruined my life, Aethyta, I... understand the insipid nature of what my mother did to you. How she put her hooks into you and made you her puppet, and how much you have paid for defying her in the end."

The expression on Aria's face tightened. "As much as I hate you, and hate what you did to me, to Liselle, to my life, I'm not fool enough to think you were the one desiring it. You certainly threw yourself into the role with gusto..."

Aria walked past Aethyta, picking up a decanter of Thessian ice-wine and pouring a glass. "...but dearest mother did have you crested on the wave with the situation with Benezia. She set that up, you know, with the Palavanus boy. I fully believe she also set the boy up to die, knowing it would split you and Benezia forever." The lips curled mockingly. "After all, Thana couldn't have a revival of T'Soni and Vasir fortunes, given your Houses popularity as the Heroes of the War of Queens. It took them thousands of years to whittle you down to the wrecks you are now."

Aethyta swallowed. "Politics and house squabbling... that doesn't change what I did was monstrous. Or that the blood won't ever wash off my hands, or my soul. Thana promised me many things, and I shouldn't have listened to her in the first place. I don't ask for or expect forgiveness... only that you don't make Liara pay for my crimes. That's all I've ever asked."

Aria nodded. "Which brings me to why you are here." She gestured out the window again as she sipped her wine. "There are events happening that I am losing track of. Something is happening in the Deep Traverse, some Broker project. Something is happening at the edges of the Veil, geth moving back into the war. Money is flying into the Attican from sources I don't know. My warlords plot and too many of them are ex-SIU and more terrified of the Batarian Emperor than me."

Aria looked out the window. "There is_ no one_ I can trust. No one. Can you imagine a life lived that way, old bag? I cannot be sure my own daughter, if I could claim her, would not knife me for my power, or out of resentment, or out of fear... I have no 'friends'. My allies pray daily for a chance to turn on me. My own lovers abandon me over 'ethics'." She spat the word.

Aethyta cautiously spoke. "...Such is the life, I suspect, of your mother as well. Minus the pack of batarian bully boys."

The asari queen sipped her wine again. "Perhaps. But her power does not rest on a knife's edge. By midnight, there will be open war on the streets. Once they kill the Archangel, that jumped up joygirl in charge of Eclipse will sweet talk – or fuck – Tarek into making a run at me."

Aria turned to face Aethyta. "They'll fail, of course. But in the chaos, my position becomes more precarious. In the chaos, the Broker's agents, the real threat, will have a shot at me. Tazzik is coming."

Aethyta shook her head. "Your warlords won't help?"

Aria shrugged. "They could. But if I asked... then the delicate dance of my supposed power becomes like sea mist. In the long run it doesn't matter how successful they are. Between the gangs, Archangel, Tazzik and whatever other chaos gets stirred up, I'll be weakened."

Aria turned to face her fully. "I'm not stupid enough to think that the Council will not pounce on such weakness, especially given the faint rumors I'm hearing now, that Collectors may be involved in these... missing colonies of the humans."

Aethyta frowned. "They don't care about that. But you're right. The Council of Matriarchs has been looking for any possible reason to convince the Citadel to go to war against you." She sighed. "

Aria's smile glittered like frozen steel. "It is good I don't have to spell out all the nuances, old bag." She sipped again from the wineglass. "That's why I had Gears fix your spine up and get you walking. You're going to be my... _message_ to the Matriarchs."

Aethyta exhaled. "And Liara?"

Aria shrugged. "The Broker is finished on Ilium, I suspect. The Thirty are moving there in force, now, not content to let the prize slip away a second time. If they haven't been able to localize the Broker by now, I'm thinking that I gambled wrong in believing Ilium was a hub leading straight to him."

The Queen of Omega set her glass down, smirking. "In the long run I don't need them any more. They're using their own resources, going after their own targets. Once I've let you go, I'm in effect letting them go as well. Good luck getting them to stop. They seem to have acquired a taste for... blood."

Aethyta winced but nodded. "What do you want me to say?"

Aria's lips curled. "What I want them to grasp is simple. Make them understand this – I am not a part of their stupid, ill-conceived plans. I am not a part – and the asari of Omega are not a part – of their precious, hypocritical 'unity'. Since the threat of outing their open hypocrisy and the little things I know about the Temple and the Justicars isn't enough to stop their plotting..."

Turning back to the view of the Black Walk, Aria's voice became colder. "I'll send you to Thessia with a warning. You will tell the Council and my lovely mother that any Council actions against me, against Omega, against the Terminus, will result in me allowing the fallen priestess Trellani to transmit whatever it is that drove her from the Temple and whatever they killed her family for to the entire galaxy."

Aethyta paled. "...Did you learn what it was?"

Aria's lips curled in a sneer. "There's a reason I don't venerate Athame, old hag. I have a very good suspicion of what she found. It's probably why my mother didn't want me hanging around Uressa too much." She smiled. "But if you don't know, it's best I don't tell you. They wouldn't hesitate to kill you too."

Aethyta muttered. "Some would like to do that anyway. There will be questions about my survival... not to mention Liara's."

Aria turned back to face her. "Not my problem. Convince them to stop this... game they're playing. It is no longer something I am willing to tolerate."

Aethyta was silent for long seconds. "Aria, they may not go along with that. You already know they're not doing what they do for the good of the asari people. What makes you think threats will get them to back off? If Trellani hasn't spilled whatever she tumbled to in all these years why would she do it now?"

Aria smiled. "Because as it turns out, I've been contacted by the Illusive Man... who needs a _favor_ from me."

**O-TWCD-O**

"Joker, status."

The comm system on the pinnace Shepard rode in was not as powerful as a warship's systems, and Joker's voice was distorted by the hiss of solar radiation. "Tracking you solid. Stealth systems fully engaged. Nothing out of place yet... except the fuck-all fleet in-system."

Shepard nodded, exhaling as she stared out at the wall display. The Omega system was thick with pirate ships and the fleets of Aria's many warlords, clustered in thick bands around the dark bulk of Omega itself, backlit by its red radiance.

She'd never been to Omega when she was alive, and coming to the system now, seeing the size of Aria's fleet, clarified to her why the Council was so nervous about the pirate queen. "Well, she certainly isn't fucking around when it comes to ships, is she?"

Miranda glanced at the view-screen, lips compressed into a thin grimace. "The last time I was here, there were even more ships. Mr. Moreau was surprised by the fleet strength. Only a fraction of these ships answer directly to Aria."

Taylor, sitting on the bench seating next to Grunt, frowned sourly. "Yeah, but that still leaves her with a lotta heavy hardware. Aria may not have any dreadnoughts, but she's got more light cruisers than the damned asari do."

Shepard nodded, turning to face Kasumi, sitting placidly in the corner near the comms panel. "Well?"

Goto smiled. "Aria-dono has communicated with the Illusive Man and is agreeable to our suggestion, as long as we take care not to drag any fighting towards the Black Concourse. She has provided three armored air-trucks to a slip at the docks for us to use as well as an authorization... and apparently has a very good idea of where Archangel's hideout is."

Shepard arched an eyebrow at that. "Really. And she never acted on it?"

The thief shrugged diffidently. "Aria-dono is not given to precipitous action, Taicho, unless she can profit from it. I have the impression she only learned this information recently." Her expression fell. "She has also informed me that the hunt has already begun and it may not be long before the gangs locate the Archangel's position as well."

Shepard nodded sourly. "...Great." She turned to face the rest of the team.

Everyone was crowded in the main hold of the pinnace, with the cargo section crammed full of mechs. Shepard glanced over everyone as she spoke. "This is it, people. We'll be hitting the docks in less than ten minutes, and there's no room for error on this one."

She tapped her omni, and the display screen on the wall shifted to a wire-frame drawing of Omega. "We'll land at the docks and take these trucks. Goto, what's his supposed location?"

The thief tapped a key on her omni, illuminating a boxed-off section near the lower third of the station. "A cargo warehouse on the outskirts of Upper Niftu. There are two ways there. A cargo access tunnel way for delivery trucks, and foot access via the upper Niftu warehousing district."

Shepard studied the image for several seconds. "Either way is going to be messy. The direct path is almost certainly going to be trapped, and even if it isn't - you can fucking bet it will be full of gangbanging mooks. And that cargo access tunnel is a deathtrap."

Miranda nodded as she looked at the map. "The gangs are almost certain to have that covered with gunships to shoot down any escaping vehicles or shuttles."

Shepard tapped the map. "This section up here, it juts out from the rest of Niftu – what's up there?"

Goto was silent for several seconds. "Some kind of staging area for storage of mining equipment for the eezo mines."

Shepard nodded. "How feasible would it be to blow a hole in that decking and drop into the level below?"

Taylor whistled. "You'd need a pretty big bang, Shepard. Dunno what the composition is like, but that's a good fifty, sixty feet of solid rock behind a foot of station decking." He shook his head. "I don't think that's doable... but what about this?" He tapped a series of cargo access tunnels. "These run underneath the site, but connect to the outer station superstructure."

He glanced up at Shepard. "You could blow a hole in those and come out right inside the main cargo access path leading to the warehouse, with any goons on the outside being none the wiser."

Shepard nodded. "And if we use that to exit, the Normandy can hang outside the station and pick us up without having to fuck with fighting through to the docks." She narrowed her eyes. "What if the gangs have the same idea?"

Taylor shrugged. "Be a pretty big hassle to move their entire force through that way. Plus, there's a downside. We go in this way and it's going to be pretty obvious we're coming. That cargo access tunnel is a good hundred to hundred and fifty meters from the landing areas near the warehouse. We'd have to fly through and deploy under fire from the gangs."

Shepard nodded, then paused. "Wait. You said that staging area I talked about first was full of mining equipment?"

Goto nodded, tapping something on her omni-tool. "Yes, mostly drilling equipment."

Shepard smiled. "If we need a good distraction to get our air cars close, I have an idea."

**O-TWCD-O**

Mierin's breathing was hard and fast as she spoke into the commlink. "That's torn it. Fuckers are spilling fast and hard out of Vefu, headed straight upstation towards the Niftu Warehouse District. They're coming, boss."

Angel nodded, glancing around the comms room. "Alright. Let them get inside the main leadway before you and Vortash pop your traps, then punch out. Montague, get your detonators ready." He clicked off, turning to face Sensat. "Power up the drones and turrets."

The batarian nodded, fingers flying over his console as Angel left the comm room, heading into the small infirmary. Melenis stood over Erash, applying yet another antibiotic injection. "Any change?"

The asari shook her head. "He regained consciousness a few times last night. Not for long. I don't think he's lucid even when he wakes up, and his blood pressure is getting worse."

Angel nodded quietly. "Finish up what you can with him and get into place. They're coming."

Melenis nodded briskly, tossing away the needle and wiping her hands. "Give me five."

Angel exited the room and headed into the room overlooking the bridge, seeing weapons laid out and ready for use. He tapped his commlink. "Garrus... they're coming."

The turian's voice was flat, void of harmonics for once. "I know. I see them. Lots of Suns heavies... Eclipse sisters... mm. Two APCs, but too big for the access-way. At least a dozen battle-suits. No sign of the gunships yet."

Angel nodded. "I've instructed Mierin and Vortash to pop their traps and then fallback. Once they do so, you can use the tunnels for a while, but I'd rather have you here when Montague really gets the party going."

Garrus growled. "Pinning me down in defense takes away a lot of my utility, Angel."

The ex-Marine nodded. "I know. But if you aren't there's too much of a chance they'll lock up your location and hit you with EMP or rush us with gunships. Someone also has to cover Montague when he makes a break for it."

Garrus sighed. "Alright. I'll do what I can at a distance... and fall back when Vortash and Mierin do. Just keep a sharp eye out on the cargo access tunnel."

Angel nodded. "Sensat hacked the outer hatch and shut it. So far, no intrusions." He glanced out the window again before heading back towards the comm room. "I'll monitor from there, Angel out."

As he re-entered the comm-room, Sensat and Weaver were both busy, moving haptic screens about and preparing drone programs. "What's it look like?"

Weaver's southern drawl was pronounced as he panned through screens. "That's a powerful lot of dogshit rolling towards us. 'Bout to hit the outers now. We were going to let them pass until the APCs passed over."

Angel nodded, folded his arms, and waited. The grainy images from the third-hand, ad-hoc spy cams Sensat had seeded through the Warehouse district picked up the wave of moving figures. Rough krogan in Blood Pack colors, holding chain leashes for bloodthirsty varren. Sneering Blue Suns mercs, confidently striding along, weapons ready. Eclipse sisters, laughing and joking as they flitted through the side paths, checking for ambushes.

The entrance to Niftu's warehouse district was a heavy metallic portal hacked into the rock of Omega, with heavy reinforcement. The two plasma tanks rigged up behind the lip of the portal were carefully painted and rusted to look like part of the environment, and none of the gangers paid them any mind, until Sensat's signal detonated them.

Angel watched as rank after rank of gang bangers marched underneath the arch, and the first APC transited. He smiled as more of his enemies walked ahead, blindly unaware of the danger they were in. When almost seven hundred figures and several battle suits had gone through, he tapped Sensat on the shoulder. "Now."

Half a ton of highly energized plasma slurry dropped into the front ranks of the gangers, splashing and igniting flesh and metal alike. Batarians and asari screamed as they turned into bouncing, jiggling torches, flailing in agony before collapsing into melted piles of slush. The APC that had begun to transit the corridor exploded violently, sending shrapnel and armor splinters in all directions, a semicircle of casualties falling down around it.

Even as Tarek barked orders in the rear, Mierin and Vortash triggered the next attack. A series of crudely built antipersonnel mines built into false walls near the entrance flared, spraying deadly splinters of metal in all directions. Dozens of gang soldiers died in an instant while almost a hundred more were now wounded. Splinters of metal almost a foot long had shoved through thighs and torsos and sheared off arms and legs – no amount of medigel patches would get those wounded back into the fight anytime soon.

A handful of Eclipse sisters threw up biotic barriers and some others linked their powers to bring up a larger dome, but Garrus just chuckled. On the commlink, Vortash gave a breathy chuckle as well. "Cute, biotic walls. Let's see how they like part two."

The entire column was wracked by explosions as more detpacks detonated. A section of the roofing collapsed, crushing a battle-suit beneath a falling torrent of rubble and torn metal, splashing the softer soldiers around the suit into paste. More mines, these seeded on the ceiling, went up, sending gouts of plasma fire into the panicked mass of gangers. Green-lit flames washed across the streets, burning anything in its conflagratory path alive, sending panic through the ranks as biotics scrambled to stop the flames with shear fields.

In fifteen seconds, hundreds were dead, hundreds more wounded, and an APC and three battle-suits were out of commission. That's when the sniper fire started.

Weaver had managed to penetrate the enemy comm network, and Garrus smirked as the braying voice of Tarek, at the back of the column inside his command APC, lashed into profanity as he saw one of his battalion commanders die, the man's head evaporating in a fine mist from a sniper round. His orders were shouted into the comm. "Dammit, fall back and regroup. Section leaders, bring up the minesweeping drones. Scouts, find and suppress that damned sniper, and once you have him localized, hit him with a plasma mortar!"

Garrus snorted to himself, sighted in on a pair of figures in the distance and tapped his laser designator. "Sidonis, you set?"

The younger turian's voice flanged with worry. "Yeah, trying to make sure I can cover Mier pulling back."

Garrus smiled. "Pair of Suns engineers at my designation mark, toting a plasma mortar. I don't have range on them. You got them?"

A second later two sharp cracks rang out from ahead of Garrus. Sidonis' voice was smug. "Two more in the vakar pit, old man. Mierin, you cool? I can't see you, copy."

Mierin was breathing hard as she ran down a narrow pathway to the next strong point. "Moving now, baby. Head's up, the fuckers are coming in thick and hot, boss. They're angry but are checking for traps now."

Angel nodded calmly. "That's fine. Let them regroup and move forward to the plasma conduits. Once those blow, fall back directly to the warehouse. Garrus... you're on."

Tucked in an alcove high above the warehousing district, Garrus tapped his comms.

"Acknowledged." Lifting his custom built rifle, he began sighting in on the tiny figures milling around the entrance of the district. His visor, linked with the suit actuators and the laser rangefinder on the Widow rifle in his hands, began making calculations, the data flashing up on the projected HUD from his cybernetic eye.

He fired the first round, the explosive-tipped munition smashing into the knee actuator of a battle-suit even as he fired his next shot. Seven more rounds carved into the gangers. One blasted the head off of a Centurion, splashing his panicking subordinates with burning viscera. Two more crippled additional battle-suits, the fifth shot blowing a giant hole through the torso of an Eclipse sister to impact the lower torso of the Sister behind her, killing both instantly.

Gangers fired randomly in all directions, despite roaring orders from their overseers to cease fire and identify the direction the shots were from. Garrus smiled grimly and triggered his omni-tool. "Butler, patch it."

Back at the warehouse, Butler nodded, readjusting the laser-link comm system to the carefully hacked receiver they'd laced into the station's PA network during their hack of Aria's defenses. The modulated, growling bass of the Archangel rolled out.

"People of Omega. This is the Archangel."

"In case some of you have forgotten, defiance of the law does not make one immune to it. The gangs are not the law. Their stupid leaders are not the law. I am the law. The gangers are too cowardly to even be criminals, hiding behind their guns and terrorizing those weaker than them. And tonight they are going to face judgement."

He laughed, a hollow, cold noise that made more than one of the gangers flinch despite themselves. "For the innocent on this station, in Niftu, Vefu, Gozu... stay in your homes. Stay out of the streets. Protect your families. This will be over in the morning, and you can go on with your lives without the filth terrorizing you."

He watched as the seething lines began to reform, this time with krogan scouts leading varren and Blue Suns engineers with scanning drones and lit omni-tools. "And as for you fools coming for me... you think because there are thousands of you, and one of me, that I should fear you?"

He tapped the omni-tool, and the second tier of traps went off – a row of missile launchers, carefully placed in a line angling down to the entrance to the wards. Sixteen missiles lanced out, slamming into the front ranks, killing the seekers and trap sensor specialists. Gouts of flame and choking, billowing clouds of smoke obscured the passage along with more screaming and wild shooting.

"...It just makes it harder for me to miss when I start killing you. Judgement time."

He killed the link, even as the column of attackers surged forward. Snarling varren bounded through the smoke, followed by ranks of krogan in thick armor with shotguns and the stamping, booming tread of battle-suits. Endless lines of Blue Suns troopers and Eclipse sisters rushed behind them, and Garrus nodded.

"Vortash. Coming up on the first turn. You ready?"

The ex-SIU officer snorted his amusement. "Of course. I'm going to wait until they get a bit closer... don't want to just cut up the front ranks."

Garrus nodded, clambering down the side of the niche he had huddled in and launching himself through the air, landing on top of a low-slung storage facility. He knelt, bracing himself, and began sighting in on new targets.

The rifle in his hands jerked as he fired.

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard gritted her teeth.

Three armored air transports had been waiting at the docks, just like Goto had said. Shepard didn't know (or want to know) the details. She'd split her forces into two rough operating teams. Team Rescue was lead by Miranda, and had both Doctor Solus and Doctor Sedanya, Taylor, Tali, Kiala, Dost, and most of her Marines, along with all of the combat bots. They had set off in two of the transports for the secondary access tunnel point that linked to an entrance to the warehousing district where Archangel's base was located.

Her own team, which Zaeed kept referring to as 'Team Fuck You', was in the last air transport and looking at the station decking literally directly above the hideout. As Goto had said, the area was a staging locale for complex drilling machinery. Normally requiring several people to operate, it was now being hacked and activated by Vigil.

So far, the drilling had gone slowly. Shepard turned away from the scene to face her team: Jack, Grunt, Zaeed, and her two DACT, along with a single hulking MJOLNIR mech. "According to Miranda, the situation is getting crazy. Archangel apparently booby-trapped a lot of the district, which is slowing the gangs advance down and killing lots of them, but they've overrun all of the outer district areas. It probably won't be long before someone notices or hears what we're doing here and sends someone to investigate, so be ready."

Jack merely smirked and flipped the safety on the lightweight shotgun she now carried. "Whatever. Who would be stupid enough to pick a fight when they're already dealing with Archangel's bullshit?"

Zaeed snorted. "You haven't been around many Blood Pack, then, have you? Stupid guddamned meatheads shoot first and ask questions never."

The drilling rig Vigil was operating shuddered, the collimated laser head flaring. The sphere hovered over Shepard's shoulder. "The tunnel is fifty seven percent completed, meatbag. At the current rate of operation, it will be another twenty seven minutes to drill through. Based on Miranda's reports, the gangs will break through the inner defenses and reach the warehouse courtyard in fifteen minutes."

Shepard nodded sourly. "We have to figure the heaviest defenses will be at Archangel's place. Hopefully he can hold out for the nine or ten minutes it takes to finish. What about the truck?"

Vigil pulsed. "It is well armored enough that using it as a distraction should work. You are sure your stunt will succeed?"

Shepard shrugged. "The DACT can make their own way down. Between Jack and I, I'm sure we're strong enough to do a combined biotic airdrop. Just make sure that truck wrecks as much havoc as possible."

Vigil's silvery surface rippled. "Your Neanderthal love of smashing vehicles into sentient beings is becoming compulsive, Shepard."

Jack arched an eyebrow. "She's pulled that shit before?"

Shepard sighed. "At the Battle of the Citadel, I had Shiny here ram some air-cars into attackers at the Citadel Tower's base so we could speed by."

The sphere moved higher and glowed. "Which was, I might add, my suggestion."

Shepard glanced up. "You're always going on about how fucking smart you are, so not sure why you think you _actually_ having one good idea matters."

"...Touché, meatbag."

**O-TWCD-O**

Garrus grimaced, even as he reloaded his rifle.

The gang's charge into Niftu had been unexpected. Angel and Garrus had planned for the early traps to make them hesitate, and to use lots of sniping attacks and bombs to keep them off guard and slow them down – not to delay the inevitable, but to make the gangers bunch up and push some of their heavier and more dangerous units forward first.

In fact, the charge had been unexpected enough that it bypassed Kru'ls traps entirely, and she had already fallen back towards the warehouse. Luckily the gangs had ended up on the main path anyway, and directly in line for the plasma trap.

Said plasma conduit trap had been triggered, along with Vortash raining rockets and heavy weapons fire down on the gangers from his strong point, but ultimately Tarek had been smarter than expected. He lead with Blood Pack soldiers, tough and strong and hard to bring down, and the plasma explosion didn't catch any of Tarek's battle-suits or mechs in the blast. Casualties had been reduced by the Eclipse mercs behind them using biotic fields to block some of the plasma or rechannel it, although it had still killed a large amount of the enemy.

Vortash put his SIU skills to good use, rigging up wall traps, springing several ambushes and electrocuting one squad with a downed power line and a water lead. He had inflicted significant casualties before being driven from his strong point, but a lucky shot from a Blue Suns sniper had crippled his hover bike just as he was about to make a clean getaway.

Vortash was now fighting building to building, evading storming packs of Blood Pack troopers, and was running out of options. Twice Garrus had tried to move in to get him out, but he'd been forced back by heavy missile fire and several snipers using anti-materiel rifles, even while vorcha with flamethrowers and heavy battlesuits swarmed into the area.

Tucked away in the shallow alcove of a warehouse, he tapped his commlink. "Vortash."

The ragged breathing of the batarian soldier rasped into words. "Too many coming. Fall back to Mierin now. I'm done for."

Garrus shook his head. "All I have to do is get a clear path and I can grab you and haul you out!"

Vortash chuckled. "Suit's not designed for that and you know it. It's too slow hauling someone and you'd just be shot out of the sky... and then Melenis would kill me." His levity vanished. "There are times, it is said on the Pillars, that there are no ways forward but death. This is that time, boy."

Garrus said nothing, and Angel cut in. "Vortash... it has been an honor. Never thought I'd say that about a SIU guy, but there it is."

Vortash's smile was audible. "For a monkey, you fight well, Angel. I chose my own path, knowing my people have fallen a long way from what we used to be. Time to remind these weaklings why the SIU is feared. Use my sacrifice well – re-position and make damned sure Mierin and Sidonis don't get caught the way I did."

There was a blast of some kind, and Vortash clicked off. Garrus swallowed and launched out of his cover, diving behind a retaining wall as a firefight exploded in the distance. Screams of agony and several explosions were heard, and then the sound of Vortash's booming laughter rang out, before another massive explosion rocked the ground.

Weaver's voice came on the comm. "Mother of God... Vortash took out one of the battle-suits and a big fucking pile of vorcha. Detonated his entire stack of plasma mines in his backpack. Looks like the suit's ammo cooked off in the blast too."

Angel's voice was heavy with emotion. "A brave sacrifice. Mierin. Sidonis. Get ready. They're going to be on you in minutes, hit them hard and blow the charges, then pull out. Don't do anything stupid or heroic."

Sidonis' dry tones were muted. "Yeah, boss, copy. I don't play around with Mierin's safety." He paused, the sound of mangnoculars zooming in audible over the comm. "Fuck. Force report. APC's still proceeding, count six of them. Seven battle-suits still operational, one limping. Additional Centurion heavies being moved up alongside the Pack hunters. More Eclipse sisters going in on the rooftops – looks like they're going to try to flank the Ventram building and come down Janas Path instead of the main transit lane."

Garrus nodded, visualizing the situation in his head. "Hold your position and get ready. I'm going to go bright and draw them to you."

Angel's voice cut in hard. "You have the energy for that? Active mode – "

Garrus smiled. "Hey. People need to see the Archangel in action. We can't let them flank Mierin's position. Going hot."

He folded away his sniper rifle, pulling out the heavily modified Talon pistol that once belonged, in another life, to his old C-SEC partner. He tapped his omni-tool, bringing up the configuration suite.

"Activate armor mode."

Most SKYTALON armor was designed with attritional anti-infantry and harassment missions in mind. But the custom modifications to Archangel's special suit had two modes. The stealth mode was the one he most often employed, relying on the suit's pitch black coloration, haptic camo and sensor suppression to evade detection.

But when faced with overpowering opposition, the armor could deploy high-intensity omni-armor plating, an omni-shield barrier on both arms, and energized omni-shape wings for high speed air maneuvering. Known as active mode or armor mode, it drained energy much faster than stealth... but made the suit almost impervious to all small arms and most light to moderate anti-armor weapons. Only direct hits from Kraken missiles or railguns would take him out in a single blow, and the Suns didn't have anything that heavy.

At least, he hoped they didn't.

The other drawback was the glowing omni-armor panels were highly visible. Butler, in a touch of the melodramatic, had altered the haptic resonance frequency so that instead of pure orange they gleamed a pearly, heavenly white instead.

Still reeling from the blast that had killed Vortash, a battle-suit and a hundred others, the front lines of the gang search were thrown into panic when, literally out of nowhere, the glowing, glittering form of the Archangel, wings afire and moving faster than the eye could follows, slammed down from above and lashed out.

His omni-claws slashed through a krogan with ease, bisecting the big alien's head and continuing on to carve deep gouges into a second krogan. His other hand fired the Talon pistol four times, tearing huge wounds across the chests of three Blue Suns mercs and blowing an Eclipse sister in half.

The suit had limited missile munitions Garrus rarely bothered using, but he triggered them now, spraying them all out in a wild display of firepower at the battle-suits and Blue Suns engineers flanking them. Several suits were hit, staggering back, while the others opened fire, as did hundreds of others.

A storm of rounds impacted with Garrus' suit even as he launched away. Most pinged off harmlessly, while the heavy rocket rounds exploded violently and staggered his flight course slightly. He winced as one of the omni arrays failed, flickering into darkness, and as he moved out of sight he killed the armor mode and flipped into stealth mode before launching on top of a building and crouching.

As expected, streams of pissed off and frightened gangers stormed into the wide pathway that was the primary route of travel in Niftu. As they did so, the heavy rapid fire guns Sidonis and Mierin had stationed themselves at, tucked behind an armored cupola, opened fire.

Screams rang out as the entire front rank of soldiers literally came apart under fire intended to counter vehicles. Garrus watched as a line of glowing-hot flechettes flickered like a laser beam over the ranks. Asari were sawed in half, purple gore splashing into steam. Turians and batarians crumpled, armor splintering. A few of the krogan survived the initial burst, but were still down, screaming in agony as their ruptured organs and bodies attempted to regenerate.

After several seconds of shock gangers dove into what cover there was and returned fire, even as the APCs roared ahead. The first one rumbled forward, armored treads smashing corpses into bloody pastes of several colors, firing at the heavily fortified building where the machine-gun fire was still pouring forth from.

Sidonis, tucked back behind Mierin and on a higher level, lifted the Hydra rocket launcher and fired. The heavy tracking missile flashed across the lane and impacted the APC squarely. A flash of blue-white light flickered across Garrus' vision for a split-second before the APC exploded violently, burning chunks of armor and fragments of metal spraying in all directions, pinging off of the walls of buildings or striking gangers.

Garrus moved, falling back further from the front line, as Mierin and Sidonis continued their heavy fire. He winced as explosions rang out, and Sidonis cursed into the comm system.

"Fuck! One of the battle-suits is some kind of fucking cut-down Adept, Garrus. Thing has a railgun! It just put a hole in the main wall here!"

Garrus tapped his comm. "Set the delays on the traps and get out now."

Mierin's voice was tight. "Goddess... if we can just hold them here- "

Angel's voice was hard and direct. "No. A rail gun will turn you both to paste. Get out now before they can lock you up. Weaver, get the two shuttles ready. Slam them down when Mierin and Sidonis pull out as a distraction."

Garrus reached his next strongpoint, a utility breaker box with heavily reinforced walls, and tucked himself inside its shadow. Pulling his sniper rifle back out, he extended it while scanning the battlefield.

The battle-suit Sidonis spoke of was visible. Colored a dim, pale greenish gray, the thing was clearly an older model of some kind, but the oversized cannon perched on one shoulder was more up to date. A booming pulse resounded through the air as the thing fired again, and the building Sidonis was in literally came apart in an explosive collapse.

Mierin's voice rang out. "Fuck! Sidonis!"

The turian answered. "Shit. Fine. Splinters in my goddamned leg. Mier, get the bike, I'm blowing the secondaries now." A few seconds later a series of hollow sounding booms washed over the courtyard.

Gangers looked around, clutching weapons. Nobody but Garrus looked up, where the blasts had dislodged a section of the ceiling superstructure. With a ponderous groan that came too late for the gangers, it tore free and collapsed, spears of heavy metallic plating and tons of rock slamming down into the plaza.

Garrus grinned as a mass of rock smashed into the battle-suit with the rail gun, the delicate weapon being smashed into the ground as the suit pilot tried and failed to get clear. "Railgunner is down. Main approach is blocked... they'll be routing to Venu Lane now. Mierin, do you need help?"

She grunted over the comm. "No. We're punching out now... Sidonis is hurt, shrapnel in his right leg. Cover us while we move."

Garrus nodded, lifting his sniper rifle. He saw limber asari clambering over the ruins, using their biotics to push clouds of dust and rubble out of their way. He sighted on one and fired, the hi-ex round blasting the Eclipse ganger's leg off in a wash of purple, sending her bouncing down thirty feet to a messy impact face first with the ground.

He fired several more times, even as he could see that the main body was rerouting around the collapse. "Not much longer until they hit the lane."

He saw Mierin and Sidonis zip down the lane on the black hoverbike and glanced up. Even as he did so, two personnel shuttles came zooming out from the warehouse where Montague was tucked into, soaring high.

Immediately they started taking heavy fire from the ground, even as they screamed ahead. Garrus smiled as he saw the gangers wasting valuable missiles and the like on the shuttles. One shuttle was hit squarely with several such missiles, coming apart in a powerful explosion, but the other one veered sharply downwards and hit the main body of troops at top speed.

Given that the shuttle was cram-packed with explosives and hit the ground doing over six hundred miles an hour, it was hardly a surprise that the detonation and impact blast were massive. Everything within thirty feet of the blast was vaporized or liquefied, and the ranks beyond that were blasted with splashed and melted metal along with shrapnel and flames. Screaming and cries of agony rang out through the open spaces of Niftu as Garrus withdrew further into the shadows.

**O-TWCD-O**

In his command APC, Tarek was livid.

"This is a _clusterfuck_! I've lost half my fucking battle-suits and four of my APCs and we haven't even hit the place we think they're at yet!"

Jentha stood to one side, gripping a padd with stiffened fingers. "The majority of the engineers with omni-tools setup for trap detection were killed in that missile strike. We've deployed drones forward, on full scan... but it doesn't look good. Archangel is still sniping at extreme ranges, taking out the drone if not the operator."

Tarek glared at the operations map. Niftu was a convoluted sector. A third of it was residential, scattered in habs along the rim, while the bulk of the district was warehouses and light industrial units. Three main paths wound through Niftu to their terminus at the entrance to Niftu from the Mids, which was sealed off by a mix of Aria's own greensuits and Blue Suns legionaries. No contact had been reported from that direction.

Lower Niftu was built in an open area, a huge cavern like space sealed off by environmental fields. But upper Niftu was built into extensions, and thus had several narrow choke-points where the builders had cut into the rock to make a path. These couldn't be bypassed without cutting into the exterior hull of the station, and he didn't have the equipment for that.

Gazing at the map, he narrowed all four eyes, forcing his anger to cool. "Archangel is playing this very smart. With that main path blocked, we'll have to swing wide... down Venu Lane, here. And then when we get past that we come to the connection to upper Niftu where the APCs can't go."

Durm, sitting in one corner, merely shrugged massive shoulders. "My losses aren't as important to me. Still not understanding why you don't just load up fodder in air-cars and rush the place from the cargo access."

Relli's Kiss, ensconced in another corner, had her respirator off to indulge in red sand. She finished, wiping a line of purple blood from her nostrils, and smiled too brightly. "Durm, dear. The Archangel and his little gang are sitting on a warehouse that, if the information we have is right, full of mil-spec weapons. We have three gunships – two of which are light – and nothing armored in the way of transports. Six people with Hydra's could shoot down everything we send all day long. We won't be able to rush them that way until we get to this warehouse and suppress his defenses."

Tarek nodded sourly. "Which he's probably expected. That's why he's forcing us to go through this... fucking maze of traps." He smiled. "Luckily, we're not going to play his silly game. Durm, pick your most useless types, preferably vorcha packs. Have them advance rapidly down the lane, drawing fire and triggering traps."

He turned to Relli's Kiss. "Have your sisters spread out and try to use their biotics to find alternative paths. I'm going to load up engineers and heavy troopers in the air-cars and fly overhead. We'll deploy... here. This courtyard before the inner sections." He tapped at a squared off opening in the building sprawl.

Relli's Kiss attached her respirator, nodding slowly. "You'll be forcing them to split their efforts – stop the vorcha, stop my girls, or stop your air-cars"

He nodded. "And my snipers will be behind the vorcha, looking to counterfire. Once we get to the Upper Niftu sections, there'll be more traps."

Durm laughed. "I brought a lot of vorcha. Having your people take point to sniff out traps isn't working, so I might as well use the little pyjacks for the only thing they're good for."

Jentha, at the comms panel of the APC, frowned. "Sir. Fragmentary reports of more contact with Archangel. Larthia Squad reports seeing two figures fleeing on a hoverbike down Venu Lane, headed for Upper Niftu. Tracking varren teams report one of them bleeding and leaving a trail."

Tarek nodded sourly. "No pursuit. Wait for the vorcha, then carry out the plan. Have... second and fourth fireteams move into air cars and move out, gunships leading. Rocket suppressive on anything attacking."

**O-TWCD-O**

As soon as Garrus saw the flotilla of air cars rise up accompanied by the sleek, black outlines of gunships, he grimaced. "Montague. Looks like you have vorcha storming well ahead of the main body, searching with varren. And gunships escorting a force of air-cars, probably with scanning engineers. Doesn't look like you will have time or opportunity to pull off the big one."

The man's French accent was muted but clear. "Nonsense. Taking out the gunships is key, Garrus. Without those, they can't break us at the warehouse. If they get close enough... this will take them out too."

Angel's voice cut in. "Maybe so, Monty. But you'll be surrounded by angry vorcha at that point."

"Ah, mon ami. Life is always going to end in death, no?" Montague's voice hardened. "You should fall back now, Garrus. I knew this was going to end badly and in fire when Butler and I found my wife dead. As Angel put it, I came here to die. That doing so is inevitable, and will help save the life of my friends..." A pause, and then "Take care of my lughead brother in law."

"Monty". Butler's voice was choked.

Garrus closed his eyes, gripping his rifle tightly. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Montague's voice was even softer, even as the beep of him tapping his omni-tool could be heard. "No, it was not. We should live in a cleaner life, one with no places like Omega to sear our lives and make cold and dead our dreams. But we have all lost that thing which made us want to live in the first place."

Garrus flinched at the words, an image of Telanya coming into his mind. "Yeah."

"Then, there is nothing left to be said. They come, Garrus. Time to fly."

With a snarl of something like agony, the Archangel flew.


	28. Arc II : Death from Above

_**A/N**:_

_The second part of my tribute to Khorne is complete. I had to resist an impulse to , at a certain point, channel Bison.  
_

_"And I beheld Satan, and he fell from the heavens ... LIKE LIGHTNING." _

_As usual, t__hanks to the Editing Gang for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes. They deserve more credit than I do._

_Aberron put out a new chapter of **Living an Indoctrinated Dream.**  
_

* * *

_'Oh fucking God...it's the Butcher! Run! RUN!'  
_

_\- Mihkale Cordson, Blue Suns Engineer during the Archangel's Ascent Incident  
_

* * *

"Eyewitness reports and transmissions from denizens of Omega on the extranet include footage of what looks to be all out war on Omega tonight, between the many mercenary groups and gangs of the ill-famed pirate station and the mysterious vigilante Archangel. So far, most of the images have been from a great distance, but earlier shots showed thousands of well armed, professional groups headed into the notorious Lowers of Omega to do battle with what the extranet has started to call the 'Turian version of the Punisher' More news as we get additional details - and now, the local sports".

Angel glared at the monitor displaying the news-feed from CoraxNet, before glancing back to Weaver. "Anything useful?"

The balding man shook his head, hands flying over his haptic console and eyes glued to his displays. "Nothing yet. Second tier Blue suns tech-heads were pushing hard on the data net about ten minutes ago, then they just... stopped. All the penetrations." He brought up a second haptic vidscreen, showing flat network activity lines. "Kinda weird."

Angel frowned. "Did they bypass you?"

Weaver shot him a disgusted look before turning back to his monitors. "If they did they'd have blown us up with our own weapons, bossman. No, something else is fucking with them, _hard_. It's that same funky interference signal we picked up earlier."

Angel rubbed his squared off chin and nodded. "Keep an eye on it. Where is the main body?"

To the right of Weaver, Sensat made a sparse motion with his left hand, pulling down a map of Niftu. "The vorcha are just about on top of the intersection of Venu and Scarth, not twenty meters from Montague. Main body is another five hundred meters back, but about a good hundred scouts from Eclipse are picking their way across the roofs and what not. Gunships formed up and the air cars are two hundred meters out and closing fast on the gate."

The small batarian glanced over his shoulder. "Garrus is inside the inner passage now, making sure the big mine is armed. Montague's... online but silent."

Angel nodded, tapping his commlink. "Monty. Vorcha are passing you now. Do you still have your cams up?"

The voice that answered was quiet. "No. They might pick up the emission. Killed the electronic trigger too, using a blasting cap. I'm dug in pretty deep in this warehouse, lots of cover and crawl-ways They may pass right by me in the confusion."

Angel sagged slightly, his expression tired. "Copy that. We'll be praying. Air cars are... one fifty out and closing, they'll be in your range in... thirty two seconds."

"Vraiment, beau jour pour mourrir. Au revoir, my friends. Detonating in thirty seconds."

Angel killed the comm-line and exhaled. "When he blows it, make sure everything is ready. Let the entire force get inside the narrow confines of the inners before we blow the first trap. If Monty can take down those fucking gunships and we can turn that column into hamburger, they'll pull back."

Sensat smiled at that. "Give us time to get out, you think?"

Angel shrugged. "Maybe. Probably go for the life support and ventilation sector, kill the whole damned district if they can't kill us clean." He smirked. "God, I hope they try."

Weaver snickered. "How long before you think they realize the LSI and vent is super-structured outside the towers?"

Angel shrugged. "A day? I mean, hell, for a long time I figured you could blow the fans up and choke off an entire district. It wasn't until Garrus found those walkways not on the map I realized Aria was a smarter bitch than all of us." He shrugged. "Of course, if they do blow the life support and then get her to cut the vents and power, we're still in trouble. I'm more worried about the innocents who'll die at that point."

Monty's voice broke in. "Here... we go."

Angel held his breath, then winced as the entire warehouse shook with faint vibrations. "My God, what just went up?"

Sensat was trying to find a working camera. "Pillars fall if I know...oh shit. Looks like Monty's plasma conduit crossed some of the fuel supply lines to the factories in the Little Bend." He tapped a set of controls, and a haptic window opened up into what looked like Hell itself.

"...my God."

The entire main path towards the interface of Middle and Upper Niftu was on fire, with most of the warehouses and buildings near where the large plasma conduit that supplied power to Middle Niftu burning wreckage. Hundreds of burning corpses were tossed in every direction, and at five hundred feet out warehouse walls and bulkheads were shattered and charred.

Nothing stirred anywhere near the conduit, and the warehouse Montague was operating from was nothing more than a pile of melted, blasted slag. Weaver crossed himself. "At least he didn't feel shit. Poor bastard."

Angel took a deep breath. "Put up a drone. Figure out where the bastards are."

Sensat's hands were already moving. Another screen opened. "...Looks like the front ranks got a little crispy, but not much real damage... I see gunship wreckage. One... two... some downed air-cars... no sign of the big turian gunship..."

Weaver cursed. "I got it on secondaries. Fucking thing is still airborne. Trailing smoke, landing north of the old Firthen factory. Motherfuck."

Angel nodded. "At least we just killed a fuckton of them."

Sensat tapped something on his keyboard. "The blast also just fired about the first two hundred feet of traps and mines in the passage."

Angel turned to leave. "Maybe that's for the best. Make 'em think the worst is over."

**O-TWCD-O**

Tazzik smiled grimly as he put down the magnoculars. "And now you begin to see why I had no intention of moving in with that pack of amateurs. But that probably cleared out the worst of it."

Lochinvar Avrensis shrugged. "As you say, Master Tazzik. Things do look a little _chaotic_ down there. Might I suggest that getting closer is exceedingly appalling as a concept, given the traps we've seen them pull off already, and the fact that we have no idea when or where... Butcher... will appear?"

The giant cybernetic salarian lit a cigar, and laughed. "We're safe enough here. The Broker mostly wants combat data. On the Butcher and on this Archangel. I can get that without getting any closer, and even if I did, no need for you to come along. While I usually would be the first one to get dug into a good fight, this whole thing is too hot... figuratively and literally... for me to get in there and get messy personally."

He glanced back at the human behind him. "But if things go into sour waters, I may have to move in. If I can take a clean shot, I'll be happy to do so, but my main goal is the scans I need." He glanced at his omni-tool. "And from what I've already gotten, that suit of Archangel's is... interesting."

Avrensis folded his meaty arms, bald head gleaming in the dim lights of Niftu's hab blocks along the edge. "What's interesting about it? And data is what you're here for? You, personally? You could have dispatched one of your men to do that much."

The salarian puffed on his cigar. "Yes. The suit... was commissioned by Aria, if my information is correct. That implies that Archangel really was working for her. As for why I'm here... the rest of my men are busy with another task – and I wanted to see a master at work. This Archangel is wasted on a piss-hole like this. Think of the assassinations and kills we could achieve if he was working _for_ us."

Avrensis gave a sour shake of the head. "Not very likely to happen. All my information suggests his vendetta against your group is deeply seated. His... violence when killing Broker agents up until now implies the fight with the gangs is just a sideshow. I already presented my theory as to his actions... attempting to draw someone with more information on the Broker to the station."

Tazzik nodded. "And the Broker and Tetrimus both think you are right. Which is no doubt why I am here, and not someone who could be captured and tortured or bonded and mind-linked." He tapped his temple with a long finger. "Cortex bombs and remote EMP wipes leave nothing to find."

The human hacker and magnate gave him an uneasy look. "This is one of many reasons why I prefer to merely be an associate of the Network and not a member. I'd rather not be 'expendable assets' in any situation."

The big salarian inclined his head a bit. "Ha. To the Broker, we're all expendable in one way or the other, Avrensis. Then again, the Broker is not P. and does not throw away his tools for mere failure – I am proof of that."

His voice turned musing. "But the information you provided is valuable enough that I strongly doubt he would be pleased if you were to come to harm. If the Butcher shows up, it will be to rescue the Archangel, not hunt about in the rim for us."

Avrensis shrugged. "I still dislike being this close to this mess. And the Butcher is not one I would suggest underestimating."

Tazzik laughed as he lifted the magnoculars again. "I'm not. But unless the Butcher can magically appear to save the day, she'll be too late to help poor Archangel in a few minutes. I brought some other assets to the party, and if I'm not there in person, well... I'll be there in spirit."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard was tensely waiting at the top of the shaft, the light of the drilling beam dimmer now. "How much longer, Vigil?"

The sphere flared in irritation. "At least twenty minutes. The composition of the asteroid we are digging through has shifted from carbonaceous to a mix of stony iron and nickel, and that does not melt very rapidly, especially in a controlled burn."

His voice turned scornful. "It doesn't help that this drill is shoddy and poorly maintained. The heads are warping faster than expected. We'll need to replace this laser head in four minutes, and we only have three more left. Idiot primitive technology. I remain astonished you people managed to ever master fire, much less space travel..."

Shepard nodded, ignoring the rest of the sphere's muttering, turning back to the rest of the team. "Fair enough. It's almost go time, people. Everybody ready?"

The two DACT nodded as one, checking their weapons, and Grunt merely gave a toothy grin. Jack flipped her off, and Zaeed gave a wry, bitter smile and patted Jessie. "Been ready for a while, Butcher. Reminds me of a job I did back when I was younger. Had to go in and isolate a guddamned pack of turian separatists with an old-fashioned dirty fission bomb on Helthia IV."

The old merc leaned back. "They were dug in like Horizon blood fleas, hardened bunker, autoguns, nano detection net, VI-augmented mechs, tiered kinetics, whole nine yards. Drilled my way into a sewage line and crawled through a hunnerd an' ninety feet of turian shit to get inside."

Jack laughed. "Pretty dirty job."

Zaeed sneered. "Got it done, though. Stupid bastards were expecting their fancy arse security grid to pick up any intruders. Knifed one in the throat on watch, then just went around and gathered up all their weapons and locked them in the armory. Shut down the security, wiped the bots and opened the front door to let the spike police in."

He chuckled. "Told them how I did it and they all looked at me like I was nuts."

Shepard rolled her eyes and glanced at her omni-tool. "Vigil, are they moving again?"

The sphere bobbed up next to her shoulder. "Yes. I've seeded five subunits into the level of the fighting. Two are currently carefully making the data connections the two canned organics came up with for the disruption trick we spoke about. Two more are working on bypassing security on the mercenary data nets controlling their war robots. The final unit is blunting the cyber attacks of the mercenaries against the warehouse... their skills are pitiful but there are hundreds of them. And they are linking in more from other parts of the station and even off station."

The silvery surface rippled in agitation. "While I am of course far superior to anything they can come up with, there are only so many ansible connections I can make without experiencing Einsteinian time dilation lag and the break-even point is getting closer with each asset they add. I estimate I will not be able to block all throughput attacks in another eleven minutes."

She glanced at the tiny internal chronometer in her vision. "Cutting it very close then."

"Indeed, meatbag. I would suggest getting the next laser head ready, this one is about to expire." The sphere glowed faintly, then gave a very human sounding sigh. "Ah, we have more issues. The Broker appears to have sent in an attack force through the cargo access tunnel."

Shepard frowned. "What? What kind? How many?"

The sphere's voice turned smug. "All of that will be irrelevant in moments, I assure you. I'm not at capacity yet. Just get the laser head ready and as usual I'll do all the actual work around here."

**O-TWCD-O**

Garrus exhaled as the vorcha packs scrambled through the corridors, occasionally firing off bursts of poorly aimed shots at his position. He was tucked into an up-armored junction box turned into a sniping nest, firing as rapidly as he could. He fired twice, the rifle jerking in his hands as one shot blasted through three vorcha and the other shot smashed one's skull to a reddish ruin before parting the right leg of the creature behind it.

He smiled as his omni-tool beeped, even as he hustled backwards again, firing rapidly at the mass without really aiming. He grinned as his suppressive fire ended up killing two more, even as he reached the edge of the bridge over to the warehouse.

Angel's voice was grim and triumphant. "Main body is halfway through the tunnels. Tarek and his flunkies are out of the APC but haven't entered yet. Gutless, cack-handed cowards."

Garrus glanced at the charging ranks of the vorcha. "Can't wait for that. Blow it all up."

There was a faint humming sound, and then all of the vibraflak mines, trapped walls, explosive power conduits, and other traps they'd seeded the approach with detonated in one long ugly string of explosions.

The front ranks of the vorcha were instantly shredded by thousands of razor-sharp shards of shattered metal hurled by mass-effect scatter bombs, while vibraflak mines blew up behind them, cratering the passageway and scattering long shards of metal and shrapnel in wide killing circles. The narrow walkways leading past the out of business omni-foundry plant were engulfed in blazing hot omnigel that altered configuration a second later to turn to explosive, which then went off in long booming streaks of white fire.

Mines and claymores erupted down the length of the passage, smashing into the legs and torsos of hundreds of Blue Suns, Blood Pack and Eclipse troopers. More went off on the ceiling, spraying tangle-wire, mono-molecular wire, corrosive foam, or simple ball bearings in swathes of carnage and gore. Purple, red and blue blood splashed and slapped against walls, screams of mercy and agony rang out, and the explosions continued.

An entire pack of Eclipse heavy infantry, older asari in expensive armor, was hit with shrapnel. The blasts were bad enough, but three of them had warp swords active, and two of those swords shattered from the explosion.

An engulfing torrent of raging, burning hot eezo and wild warpfire seared and tore through the ranks in both directions. Those hit by it in the first fifty feet didn't even have time to scream or realize they were dead, those further back were unlucky enough to survive with third and fourth degree burns, melted armor and slagged weapons.

Over a thousand lives, well over a third of the entire strike force, simply ceased to exist in nineteen seconds of overwhelming fire and explosions. The blasts were so severe holes were melted through the superstructure, blasts of raw energy shattering rock and blasting free into the void beyond. Dozens of hapless vorcha, krogan, batarians, turians, and asari were sucked into the void before cheap kinetic barriers snapped into place, and alarms rang out throughout the entire district.

"Alert. Primary hull breach detected. Upper Niftu, level one. All inhabitants must don space-safe survival gear or make your way to Middle Niftu. Blast doors will seal the Upper Niftu area in five minutes. Alert. Primary hull breach detected..."

Garrus's eyes were wide behind the helmet of his SKYTALON armor. "...Well, fuck." He heard loud cheering over his commlink, and after a few seconds tapped the comm. "Alright people. Calm it down. They're going to be coming at us hot and fast, and we're out of traps and places to hold them off from. This is now it. Everyone get to your positions, get the drones hot and the turrets lit."

He turned, moving rapidly across the wide bridge, glancing to his left at the wide cargo access corridor. "Sensat, any activity at the cargo port?"

"Yes. Alarms coming in now. The outer hatch has been hacked open. Sensors show... fuck. FUCK!"

Garrus made the U-turn around the bend in the defenses leading into the first floor and snapped his mandibles. "What is it?"

"Nine heavy gunships, Garrus. Telvache class, heavier than the turian one out front. Each one can carry ten troops and has an ECM suite. Where in fuck were these things?"

Butler spoke. "Pulled an image off the spycam... check the logo on the fuckers."

Garrus pulled the video up on his omni-tool, and glared hatefully at the stylized red triangle insignia of the Shadow Broker. "Lovely. Will the ECM bomb take those things out?"

Weaver's voice was grim. "Not very likely. That's serious military hardware, the Asari Republic only started fielding those bitches last year. Hydra won't do jack shit to Silaris armor plating, nor will a lance cannon."

Angel was walking down the stairs, holding his double-action Typhoon. "What about the Kraken missiles?"

"It's a gamble, boss. It can spoof the ECM, sure, but … Silaris is tough shit. Bad thing is those things have saboting rocket pods and railguns – our defenses and walls can't bounce any of that shit."

Angel sighed, and glanced around. "No matter. Blow the EMP bomb when they cross over it...then take the air cars and smash them into the gunships. Maybe we can cripple one or two that way."

Butler came out of the room with their generator, pulling the strap of a lance cannon over his chest. Sidonis and Mierin were hand-loading custom ammo blocks with strips of explosive into their sniper rifles, both festooned with flat-pak grenades and hanging shotguns. Krul was holding an Claymore shotgun like a pistol in one meaty hand and her power maul in the other, her ancient clan armor gleaming in pale reds with black bold korogish symbols.

Melenis was laying out medigel packets in neat rows, a heavy battle rifle across her back. Garrus looked around, and nodded. He spoke, his voice hard and crisp.

"They're coming. We all know the plan, gunships or no gunships. We hit them with everything we've got, kill as many of the fuckers as we can, put the mechs in defensive locations. We head into the tunnels, blow the entrance down after us, and hustle to the shuttle. Everyone gets on and we try our damnedest to make it to the cross access-way and to the Mids, and from there the Docks."

He lifted his sniper rifle. "We may not make it. Even if we do, without Erash, we may not be able to access more than the outer section of the Wind Dagger's corvette, or get it started. We may get pinned down and die at any fucking point."

He glanced down, and flicked a mandible. "This may seem like a lost cause. My father said 'Lost causes only happen when people lose their belief in the fact that it matters.' What we've done... what we've shown the people of Omega, the gangs, Aria, the slavers, the criminals, and each other – that can never be undone, or lost."

He looked at Butler's tired, worried features, the barely noticeable quiver of nervous fear in the clasped hands of Mierin and Sidonis, the heavy gaze of Krul. "Some of us are fighting for all that we have left. Some of us lost everything and are fighting because we don't know what else to do. But we know we're fighting for a reason. For the people who would have died otherwise. So children don't have to watch their parents get dragged off to the meat shops or the slave rail. So there aren't chipped up pleasure slaves and dusting bars on every fucking corner."

He lifted his head, squared the shoulder of the suit. "We are all going to die someday, no matter what we do or don't do. But if we go out tonight... all of us are going to live or die doing what we know is the right thing. I'm Garrus Vakarian, son of Regilus and Mitisia. I survived the Separatist Attack on Menae. I lived through a holed warship with no survival suit. I've made it through armies of geth, plant zombies, and rachni. I've fought against Saren and Benezia, faced down overwhelming odds... and lived even after Tetrimus himself tried to kill me."

He put all the steel in his voice he could. "They don't have enough fucking gun to kill me, now or _ever_."

Angel nodded. "To keep the spark going a little longer." He racked the slide on his heavy machine gun, and grinned.

Garrus glanced at the monitor on the wall, as the gunships floated forward, death in their every line and movement. "Blow the EMP, Sensat."

There was a muted, heavy thump, and a flash of blue... and the gunships wavered in the air then kept coming.

Sensat's voice sounded tired. "...No effect – " He broke off, and cursed, along with Weaver. " – S-something just... _usurped_ our bandwidth –"

A sneering, cool voice that sounded tantalizingly familiar to Garrus rang out. "Worry not. Focus on defending yourselves. I will deal with the gunships."

Angel looked confused. "Who are you? What are you?"

The voice somehow became even more smug. "_Better_."

Mierin pointed to the monitor. "Holy seas and shores, look!"

The Telvache class gunships were highly automated, allowing the single pilot to operate navigation, flight, weapons and scanning systems with simple, verbal commands processed by an onboard VI. This VI was hardened against conventional cyberwarfare attacks, but every system had a weakness.

The weakness in this particular case was laser-link maintenance sensors, designed to detect overheat conditions and vent the gunship's heatsinks. The powerful laser link comm system of the warehouse was overridden and flickered across the laser link port of all the gunships in sequence, triggering a maintenance event.

This put the control systems of the gunship into a secondary access mode, and before the onboard VI's could compensate, the cyberwarfare attack shunted the waste heat of the now venting heatsinks into the fuel cell area, reversing the normal flow.

Seven of the gunships simply detonated, flying apart in terrifyingly powerful explosions, plasma fuel and ammunition blowing holes in the flimsy support walls of the cargo pathway. The other two entered emergency failure shutdowns as the engines on those two were already having problems and the pilots had taken manual control, but with each one being blasted by shrapnel and impacts from their destroyed brethren, they did not fare well either.

They crashed hard into the ground, one snapping in half and scattering broken, burning black armored forms to the ground, the other one skidding to a smoking halt near the edge of the pathway, burning brightly.

As quick as the attack happened it was over, and the sneering voice rang out again. "Help is coming. Two armored air transports will arrive through the cargo transport path in fifteen minutes, and another path is being opened above. You must hold on for that long."

Sensat spoke up after a moment. "No signal detected on the laser link, but... incoming movement through the main passage, bossman. I think we're on."

Angel shook off his surprise. "...We have help coming in. So let's make this fight count. Krul and Butler, with me on the first floor. Melenis, stairway overwatch. Garrus, Mierin, Sidonis, sniper overwatch. Sensat, get those air cars ready, you have oversight on drones and mechs. Weaver, turrets. This is it."

Garrus nodded, rushing up the stairs, trailed by Sidonis and Mierin. He hustled into the small lounge like room overlooking the bridge and the front entrance. A moment later the young turian and asari moved into place, flanking him and lifting their sniper rifles.

He adjusted the gauge choke on his Widow, keeping his voice calm. "Take it just like practice. Don't hurry your shots. Keep your rifles centered. Deflection, angle, and elevation, just like I showed you. Aim for officers, engineers, heavies and biotics in that order of importance, and if you can't kill them go for a shot to incapacitate."

Mierin's spare features were tensed behind the clear faceplate of her helmet as she nodded, while Sidonis merely flexed his shoulders and brought his rifle into firing position. The strong voice of Angel came across the commlink.

"The Glaive mine is armed. Let it detonate before opening fire."

A roar echoed down the passageway, and the heavy, red-painted forms of the Blood Pack stormed forward, what few vorcha were left running alongside krogan armed with heavy shotguns and the ugly, block forms of Graal spike launchers. They burst onto the bridge howling out their war cries.

The two foot wide circle of metal popped up high into the air from the bridge's surface, and then a split second later the eezo charge inside detonated, creating an unstable mass effect field spiraling outwards. Mono-molecular wire, coated in pyroacidic gel, was flung outwards in wild, tumbling arcs at almost twice the speed of sound.

Even Garrus was appalled at the carnage it wrought on the charging Blood Pack. Dozens upon dozens of them simply came apart in sections of armor, bleeding flesh and cleanly sliced bone, the cuts so neat and even that it was as if the charging force had been converted into processed steak cuts. Those on the edge of the cloud were slashed and went down bleeding, and then the pyroacidic gel began reacting with the air.

There was a soft, sighing _swoosh_ sound as the entire front of the courtyard and bridge burst into bright searing blue fire, and the screams of those wounded but not dead rang out. As more krogan charged forward, the entire warehouse seemed to shudder as all the turrets came online and fire mixed with missiles vomited forth from the roof.

Long, curving lines of accelerator fire was mixed with the sun-bright blast of lance cannons, smashing into the charging ranks with fell impacts. Krogan staggered and screamed as dozens of heavy explosive rounds crashed into them, or lance cannon beams burned holes through them and sheared off limbs. Shrapnel rounds from the missiles sent ugly splinters of white-hot metal scything back and forth, cutting down krogan, sending them to the ground with scores of lethal, garish wounds seared so hot they couldn't regenerate.

But krogan were not as other aliens. The more they were killed and maimed, the angrier they got, the more determined to kill. Rather than break, they kept charging, right into the tangle-wire mess at the bridge and over the corpses of those who preceded them, even as they were shot to pieces. The second turret line opened up, along with the defenders on the first floor, and Garrus lifted his sniper rifle to fire as well.

Booming shotgun blasts and torrents of flame washed over the bridge along with concentrated fire from the defenders, stopping the already weakened charge dead in its tracks. Garrus could only watch a dozen scenes of carnage and horror through his scope.

A krogan, female, running in head down, transfixed by a stream of tracers that blasted chunks of armor and flesh from her hips and right arm, only to spin and slip in her own blood. The searing beam of a lance cannon smashing into a krogan with enough force to split him in half like a bag of rotten meat, burning and unrecognizable organs and fragmented grayish bones bursting from him as he flew back. A pair of vorcha caught in the stream of burning napalm from the ground turrets, blackening and crisping as they wailed and collapsed onto the scorched, blood-soaked metal of the bridge.

For a full fifty seconds it continued, the sound and smoke of the turrets deafening and blinding, the stink of burning, charred flesh choking the senses and stinging the eyes, and above the juddering bangs of the defenses, the screams of the dying, the wounded, and those blasted off the bridge entirely to fall nine hundred feet to the depths below.

"Cease fire!" Angel's voice was tense, and as the smoke began to clear, Garrus panned his sniper rifle around. Nothing was moving on the bridge except a handful of krogan, clearly in the process of dying.

"Spirits..."

**O-TWCD-O**

In the narrow confines of the main approach, set off to one side, Tarek shuddered as he looked at the feed from the drone. "Dark Gods above and below..."

Durm, on the other hand, merely shrugged. "Well, a direct charge won't fucking work. That … big mine thing must have taken out a hundred of my men by itself, and that's a lot of firepower on the roof and the main entry path. Your battle-suits and mechs will have to go in and soften that shit up."

Tarek scowled. "There's enough heavy weapons up there that sending them in now would be premature. Mechs, though... may be a workable idea."

Relli's Kiss was on the commlink with one of her scouts, and clicked off. "The Broker's support isn't going to make it – supposedly, the gunships were hacked and blown up."

Tarek gave her a look of confusion. "How in fuck's name do you hack a goddamned _gunship_? Just what the fuck are we fighting here?"

The asari shrugged. "The Broker's people didn't say... and oddly enough, didn't sound that pissed about it." She glanced at Durm. "Something's fishy about it, I think. The Broker is just letting us waste ourselves, no one has seen or heard from his people."

Durm shrugged. "Deal with the Broker later. Right now, we need to overwhelm the defenders, before they cook up something else weird or manage to blow up the entire damned station."

She tapped her omni, bringing up a simplified map of the area ahead. "Indeed. Durm, you have enough men for another wasteful charge?"

The krogan warlord shook his head. "Not really. More vorcha, coming from up-station, but they'll take a good hour to get here." His bulbous eyes narrowed. "I didn't bring my heavy hitters with me, obviously. Figured this would be a good a way as any to weed out the ones unhappy about me taking my father's place without a Crush to determine if they'd follow or not. The ones I've got left I'd prefer not to waste... without a plan, of course. I can always get more disgruntled krogan and vorcha eventually."

The Eclipse leader nodded. "Fair enough. I'll pair some of my stronger sisters with your mechs, Tarek, providing barrier shields. Once you get their defenses tied up, I'll have a pack of my girls with glidewings flit in and rush the entrance with flash-paks - if your engineers have some extra - and warp swords. If they can clear the ground level turrets out..."

Tarek nodded. "We should have enough flash-paks for that. They won't bring the walls down, but they're strong enough to blow the turrets up. I'm having my engineers build a rolling barricade carried by two of the heavy mechs we brought. I'll put rocket engineers behind it and push out a drone wave, followed by ground mechs, then heavies and your girls, then the two assault mechs." He gazed at the map. "Once you get going, my battle-suits will move in – I've still got one super-heavy ready to go – and blow the rest of the turrets."

She nodded, tapping her commlink. "Get Vesta Squad ready to fly."

**O-TWCD-O**

Garrus cursed when the heavy curved form of the barricade shield came into view. "Angel, they've got heavy mechs carrying some kind of... shield, fortified with kinetics. Mechs firing from behind cover."

"I see it. Focus fire." The turrets came up, firing, and Garrus panned his sniper rifle, looking for a shot. The barrier held under repeated strikes, as a wave of glowing omni-drones zoomed above them.

Sensat's voice was tense. "Drone swarm up. Engaging." The hexagonal and gleaming omni-drones of the batarian came into view, shots flying back and forth as drones exploded into broken shards of flash-fabbed plastic.

More mechs edged out onto the bridge, a few falling to heavy fire but most covered behind the armored plate of the barrier, which was beginning to fail under the constant turret fire. Six rockets flashed out from behind the barrier, four of them impacting the armored line of turrets on the roof.

"Turret two out of commission. Turret three... not turning. Signal loss, turret six, compensating. Dammit, hackers in our lines again."

Sidonis fired at something through the window, and began reloading. "Do we get out on the roof to repair?"

Garrus shook his head, sighting in on the barely visible edge of a mech's leg behind the barricade, firing and smiling as the machine crashed to the ground, halting the enemy advance for a few seconds. "No, too dangerous. Keep shooting."

Sidonis opened his mouth to speak, but then blue-lit shapes flew in graceful curved arcs over the barricades, landing near the entrance to the warehouse, then kanquessing within to bypass the turrets as much as possible. Eclipse sisters with wild yellow face paint charged forward, hurling grenades and flash-paks along with warpfire.

Five of them were blasted or incinerated almost on the spot, flying back with craterous wounds splashing blood in all directions, or falling to the ground in burning piles. But two survived long enough to hurl grenades into the turret groups, and one used a second biotic charge to storm into the lower level proper.

Butler fired his lance cannon at the asari with a yell, but the shot was only a glancing hit, melting armor along her thigh as she rolled forward, hand outstretched. Warpfire burst into a lance, flashing over him in a torrent before Angel's Typhoon spun up and fired, sawing the ganger in half from the stream of high impact rounds and sending her slumping to the floor in death.

Melenis vaulted over a barricade to pull the wounded human to the ground, grimacing. "You okay?"

The human matched her expression and nodded. "Yeah... arm's burned, but I'm not dead."

She tore the backing from a medigel packet and quickly stripped away the damaged, melted arm guard, exposing burned, cracked skin. She laid the packet in place, securing it with a couple of quick swipes of tape, and then pulled out a small black leather case. "Pain blockers. These won't last long..."

Butler nodded, while Angel kept his weapon leveled as another batch of asari soared in, slamming into the defenses. He fired at them even as they took out another ground turret. "Melenis, need some fire over here."

Melenis finished her work and picked up her rifle, tucking into cover and spraying rounds in the direction of the charging asari. "They're just throwing themselves at us like... mentha fish at a nexa!"

Angel nodded. "Turrets will eventually overheat. Traps are all used up. Ammo gets low. A wound here, a wound there, and pretty soon we're a wreck. These little probing attacks will eventually finish us. That's why they brought extra people, they planned to wear us down with numbers from the beginning. We may have to abandon the first floor and dig in at the staircase."

He glanced at his chrono. If the strange hacker who'd taken out those gunships was accurate, they only had to hold on for a bit longer. But if he pulled up to the stairs now, the Suns engineers could set up mortars or worse inside the warehouse.

The voice of Weaver came over the comm. "Five roof turrets and four ground turrets out of commission. Our net is at forty percent, two second lag time on our turret targeting. Barrier is down over those mechs, but we have super-heavies coming up behind them and Blue Suns troopers using the downed mechs and barrier as makeshift cover, plus kinetic snap screens."

"Cover and advance. Clever, but not clever enough." Angel's voice was cool. "Sensat, drop the air cars on them."

"Engaging units. Shit, more drones incoming, rocket drones this time. Everyone brace!"

**O-TWCD-O**

"...And we're through."

Miranda let out a slow trickle of tense breath as the explosive charge detonated, the walls falling away to reveal the matte gray cargo access corridor. The approach to their entrance point had not gone as smoothly as hoped, as the explosions above in Niftu had sent cascades of rubble and debris into the superstructure, blocking their first planned route.

Luckily they'd been able to route around it, and Miranda tapped her omni. "In position, waiting for your signal."

Shepard's voice sounded tense. "Acknowledged. Almost done drilling, but the fuckers are hitting the warehouse really hard. If you launch now ETA to warehouse pickup?"

Miranda consulted her omni-tool. "...eight minutes."

Shepard's voice hardened. "Launch now, then. Be aware Vigil downed a pack of Broker gunships in that tunnel, and two of them are possibly not completely disabled, only unable to move."

Miranda bit her lip. "Understood, incoming now, Butcher." She killed the comms and nodded at Jacob. "Take us in, but not max speed. We don't want any sensors picking us up until it's too late."

He nodded, tapping the controls, easing the big armored truck through the gaping hole in the superstructure. "Other end of the tunnel is hot with contacts, just so you know. If they come this direction we'll be trapped in there."

Miranda nodded sourly. "I had considered that possibility when we made this plan. But there aren't any other options except that madness Shepard is attempting."

Levels above, Shepard was checking her weapons. "Everyone gather around me. When this thing goes, Vigil will crash the transport to give us some temporary cover, but chances are shit is going to be messy. We'll have only a few seconds of surprise, so hit them with everything you've got and then fall back to the warehouse. Remember, our job is to push back and keep attention on us so Miranda's trucks can land and we can get in position."

Jack's shoulders shifted under the armor she wore. "This is gonna be a heavy ass pull, grandma."

Shepard smiled, and flicked the safety off of her ODIN. "We'll be fine."

Vigil's voice was calm. "One minute, get ready."

**O-TWCD-O**

"Fuuucck!"

Garrus snarled as more asari crashed through the windows, firing his Talon pistol at the closet Eclipse member and blowing her head off with the shot. Mierin was tangled up with another, having dropped her rifle to bring up her warp sword, but her skills were no match for the tattooed asari fighting her, and she screamed as her blade and right hand were slashed off and the blade came around to kill her.

Before Garrus could move Sidonis was there in a flying spring and leap, tackling the asari with a primal roar. He ignored the blade that had sheared into his shoulder and raked hard with his talons, drawing a choked scream and gurgle from the ganger as he literally tore her to pieces in rage.

Garrus blocked a blast of warpfire from the last Eclipse ganger with his omni-shield, and came in fast. A hard knee to her torso doubled her over, and his rising kick crashed into her temple with enough force to knock her to the ground. He stomped down with the whole weight of the suit a moment later, splattering her head.

Angel's voice was hoarse over the sound of his Typhoon firing. "PAYBACK, MOTHERFUCKERS! REPENSUM! _REPENSUM_!" Butler gave the yowling battle-cry of the Arcturus Marines, the hollowed boom of his lance cannon punctuated by the screams of asari and the wet slap of dying flesh.

The turrets were almost all down, and as he glanced out the window he saw a heavy salarian Burvo mech stomping forward, rocket pods firing at the roof. The last few turrets had blown away one of its arms, but the gaggle of asari around it were blocking much of the counter fire with barriers and wall invocations.

The bridge was a ghastly abattoir, blackened with burned, caked gore and littered with broken mech parts. Two battle suits were burning wrecks, weak cover for the group of heavy Blue Suns machine gunners raking the front of the warehouse with fire. Most of the ground turrets were wrecked by charges of Eclipse sisters.

He had to stop that mech before it cleared a path into the warehouse. He glanced over his shoulder. "Sidonis. She okay?"

The younger turian was holding his mate carefully, his plates distended in rage and fear as she used most of her medigel to try and control the bleeding. "She's hurt bad, Garrus."

He steeled his voice. "Then you have to protect her. This position is overrun." He tapped his comms. "Angel, Sidonis and Mierin are both hurt badly, no longer effective. Fall back to the upper."

The marine snarled. "Can't hold them down here..."

Garrus exhaled. "I'll handle that. Move." With a grimace he threw himself through the window, triggering his flight system even as he pushed off. It only took a split second to land literally on top of the tall combat mech on the bridge.

Shouts and heavy fire rang out from all directions, but Garrus was focused. His omni-claws slashed down the back of the mech, even as he slammed two EMP paks into its back before dropping to the ground. He landed on one of the flanking asari, his augmented weight in the suit snapping her spine before pulping her corpse below the heavy feet of the SKYTALON.

Taken by complete surprise, the Sisters on the ground had no time to react. Even as the EMP charges went off and the heavy mech began to topple backwards, Garrus was in motion, one slash hamstringing the asari to his left, his other clawing the face off of the two to his right. He spun, ducking a wild slash from a warp sword, bringing up the Talon pistol in a smooth arc to fire right into the asari's face.

Her entire upper body collapsed from the blast of the point-blank shot, scattering viscera over the faces of her sisters, shocking them for a split second even as they lifted rifles to kill him. He moved, even as the fire from the far side of the bridge intensified, and swept his leg in an arc as he rolled.

The weight of the suit was a weapon in and of itself, as four hundred pounds of metal snapped the legs of two of the remaining asari, and both smashed into a tangle into the third, sending all three off the bridge to their deaths. Garrus rolled to his feet, ducking behind the mech as it crashed to the ground fully, smiling to himself.

"Goddess' eyes! Garrus get back in cover!" Melenis' voice was tense and shaky, and he shook his head.

"Get Mier patched up. I'll handle this." He smiled as more heavy Blue Suns infantry charged, firing machine guns and throwing grenades. He leapt up, firing with the Talon as he dodged their panicky fire.

Rockets slammed into him from the far end of the bridge, and sniper fire rang out against the suit as he landed behind the charging gangers. He flung a grenade at them, laughing to himself as it attached to one of the merc's back and he screamed in terror. The blast scattered the group, killing five of them, even as two asari came flying out of the front of the warehouse, shot to pieces and riddled with warpfire burns.

Angel's voice was almost weak sounding. "Cleared... lower level. Fall back to the upper. Garrus..."

Garrus smiled, as more goons leveled weapons and a Vencar battle-suit stomped forward. The Vencar was the latest model salarian battle-suit, not as tough as a Shieldbreaker, but still banded with Silaris armor and backing a two-inch mass accelerated magna-cannon that could wreck a tank. He knew his SKYTALON was no match... and yet, if he didn't take it out, it could shoot right through the walls and kill everyone.

He flicked his armor to active mode, light blazing from his form to attract more attention, and exhaled. "Go with the spirits, guys." He turned to face death, as he took in the form of the much heavier and better armored battle-suit in gray and red.

The voice of Tarek boomed across the bridge from some comm system drone. "Come out to play with us for a while, Archangel? Get tired of hiding? Durek, kill him. Bring me the head, then blow the warehouse."

Garrus smirked as the battle-suit pilot lifted its weapons and fired. He triggered the maneuvering jets on the legs of his own suit, flopping into a sloppy roll that managed to evade the heavy blast of the reinforced magna-cannon, and charged forward, slamming omni-claws into the suit's leg.

The battle-suit staggered, but brought the stock of the heavy weapon in its hands down on the back of Garrus's lighter SKYTALON. The blow felt like a building falling on him, and his vision swam briefly. He slashed hard again, carving through inches of armor and striking power conduits in the leg, but then the Vencar pilot kicked out with the other leg.

Garrus suppressed a scream as his suit blared alarms, his leg half crushed as the joints collapsed under the blow. He staggered back, trying to get the jump pack to trigger, and the battle-suit leveled the magna-cannon and shot him at point blank range.

Melenis screamed as the SKYTALON flew back to crash heavily on the bridge, a blasted smoking hole seeping hydraulics and blue blood blown into the collar of the war-machine. The pilot of the Vencar moved his machine up, but paused when a hot, sloppy flare blasted its upper torso.

Melenis flash-stepped twice, teeth fixed in a feral snarl, eyes blazing as she fired grenades from the underbarrel launcher of her rifle. Both hit and exploded impotently off of the gleaming armor of the mech, which triggered a row of small mass accelerators in the right arm in a spread of burst fire.

Shots cracked Melenis's shaky barrier and punched through her legs, shoulder and arm, sending her rifle flying and her crashing to the ground with a scream of agony, but she somehow wrenched herself to one knee and flung more warpfire, ragged and desperate. "I will not let you kill him!"

The pilot barked laughter, firing a shell from the magna cannon at her. Garrus braced himself against agony and lunged, managing to block the shell with his omni-shield. The blast wrecked the shield and spun him around to crash down heavily again, blood flying out of his mouth. His shoulder was bleeding freely and one of his mandibles felt like it was gone, and he could smell the burned flesh and stinking viscera splashed around him.

He managed to turn his head to look at Melenis, who'd been blasted from the explosion force of the shell, and she stretched her hand out towards him, eyes filled with tears. "I..."

The pilot stomped forward, his chuckling audible through the speaker, while more gangers rushed in behind him, weapons leveled. Someone in the warehouse was firing, but the shots pinged off the massive battle-suit ineffectively. Sounds blended together in a hellish cacophony in Garrus' hearing as his vision swam and blurred.

The pilot stopped, and pointed the barrel of his massive weapon right at the head of Archangel.

Garrus was dizzied and couldn't see out of his right, cybernetic eye. The shot he'd taken must have damaged it. He figured it would always end like this, but he found he couldn't think of a good snappy line to end his life with. He tried his best anyway. "Don't suppose the cavalry is going to show up now, are they?"

The pilot laughed. "Ha. Good one. But no. Time to go to heaven, asshole."

Even as he spoke, however, the ceiling of the staging area of the warehouse suddenly glowed red hot in a vast circle. A split second later it exploded, sending rubble and shrapnel in all directions. A furious blue glow illuminated the darkness of the expanse, as an armored air truck came screaming out of the hole in the ceiling.

The truck crashed heavily into the Blue Suns soldiers advancing along the bridge, skidding a good dozen feet before coming to a stop, the mangled and smeared remains of the soldiers it had run over and crushed spread out behind it in a gory trail. The Vencar paused, angling upwards to see what was happening.

Garrus also managed to turn a bit to face upwards. The light was blinding, a blue glow that seemed to be the perfect azure of the sea, or maybe the sky. It wavered in his half blinded vision, surrounding a shining white star that seemed to flare.

The blue glow grew brighter, and the star resolved into a single white figure. The white being fell from the heavens, holding a blazing blue warp sword. The pilot of the battle-suit that downed Archangel stared transfixed for the half a second it took for the Butcher's weapon to bisect his suit's head, ending his life.

The suit shuddered and fell with the impact of the Butcher's landing on its shoulders, even as a terrible sound tore across the comm systems of all combatants – the high, keening cry of the human kamikaze. Turians shuddered and salarians recoiled as the liquid, dread syllables washed over them.

Heavy suits of DACT battle armor crashed down behind the Butcher, one leveling a BRKR rail-gun, the other a multiphase plasma mortar. Both fired at the enemy lines the second they landed, the rail-gun round tearing a staggeringly wide path of shattered bodies through the ranks before detonating violently, and the plasma mortar handily incinerating the rocket squad that was backpedaling for cover.

The krogan and two humans that floated down a moment later immediately rushed into the cover of the air transport, and the smallest of them, a thin human girl, gave a howl of her own as she scattered lines of blue radiance from her out-flung hand, latching on to several dropped rocket launchers and dragging them to her side. She picked up one and fired it with a feral grin, the Hydra missile lancing out to blast a battle-suit in the head, the massive construction staggering back before toppling off the bridge entirely.

The other human held what looked like an old black-and-red Avenger rifle, until he tapped an omni-panel on its side. "Level three."

The gun slid open, the barrel circling wider, heavy red glows expanding as rails extended out and down, and a heavy under-barrel smoothly slid up and out. A moment later it vomited forth flaring, hot red streaks of spray-shell rounds in a terrifying pattern that tore through the meager cover of wreckage on the bridge to saw through the Suns hiding behind it, sending bits and chunks of batarian and turian flying back.

A second battle-suit charged forward, angling to shoot the Butcher, when Grunt roared in anger. The big krogan rushed forward, backhanding a Blue Suns engineer out of his way with enough force to snap his spine in a single blow, and rolled to a crouch three feet from the battle-suit as it struggled to bring its weapon inline with him. The heavy, green-lit weapon in his hand gave a coughing howl like a damned soul, and a ugly greenish cone of twisted, corrupted light that left an afterimage hanging in the air.

The blast hit the suit dead on, and a second later after the flash of green light faded, everything above the suit's waist simply ceased to exist. The stump of the wearer's torso spewed blue fluids for a few seconds before the krogan gave a hard laugh and shoved it back.

The Butcher was already moving. One hand held her sword, the other pulled out a Harrier and began firing as she ran. She leapt completely over a wrecked mech as if it was a single step, flashing into the kanquess and coming out in the middle of the first line of the Suns heavies in proper cover beyond the end of the bridge.

The nearest mercenaries had absolutely no time to react, the warp blade slashing through them so fast the eye could not follow, the others scrambling to find cover. Those who weren't quick enough were shot down as her Harrier barked sharply in short, perfectly targeted bursts, sending them to the ground with mortal wounds.

Even as she did so, Jack turned to Zaeed. "Keep 'em off me, these two are busted up bad. Gonna use lift to get 'em inside."

Zaeed nodded, shifting Jessie to fire another long burst at the ranks of mercenaries near the bridge, even as Shepard shot the last Suns heavy and Grunt killed a pair of krogan with a single blast. "Trucks here in a minute!"

The gangers were finally shaking off their shock, and dozens rushed forward, too keyed up to properly register what they were seeing. It was impossible. The Butcher's laugh was terrible, as she kanquessed away, leaving behind a belt of frag grenades that tore into their ranks a split second after she was gone. Six batarians and an asari went down screaming in agony, as she came out of her charge behind the last battle-suit. Her warp sword stabbed through the back of the suit, making the entire thing arch back as if stricken, and then she lashed her weapon free.

She put the Harrier on its mag-mount on her back before dashing backward. "Vigil now!"

The sphere, still floating high above the field, began to pulse, as five smaller spheres orbited it. The AI had been carefully, slowly establishing a data connection to every single mech, data-ported armor, battle-suit, and weapon on the field. When Shepard shouted, Vigil triggered fifty-thousand runtimes of the concoction of overheat, jam and lock scripts worked up by Kiala and Tali in the trip to Omega.

Not every system went down. Some, especially the more technical-oriented Blue Suns, had auto-purge scripts on their armor. Many of the Blood Pack used weapons without a data connection, and some of the Eclipse girls had nothing but leathers and a warp sword and thus nothing to hack. But all of their combat mechs, from the smaller GINI and LOKI to the ten massive Xasxmir and MJOLNIR assault warframes, went crazy at the same time. Hundreds of the gangers weapons exploded on them, and panic set in as their armor began ejecting medigel uselessly onto the ground. Weapon heatsinks vented into their suits instead of out, sensors filled with garbage, and audio systems spoke a single line in the cool, murderous voice of the Butcher.

"I warned you. Time to die."

The mechs attacked the gangers ruthlessly, firing to create as much confusion as possible. The ganger lines, such as they were, collapsed into chaos, the mercs firing in panicked bursts and were being cut down by the score from their own mechs. Dozens began fleeing in any possible direction, screaming the Butcher had come, while others thought the other gangs were double-crosssing them and attacked their own. A few tried to purge their systems, and the Blue Suns engineers that were left reacted as best they could. Vigil immediately came under heavy cyber-attack by the Blue Suns hackers in the datasphere, and had his subdaemons focus on defense while he kept purging attempts at shutdown and reboots.

One of the Suns plasma mortar teams fired at the rampaging form of a Xasxmir mech, and the shot by luck or chance bypassed the armor and detonated the powercore. The explosion that followed not only took out the primary data connection leading back to the command APC but reduced the bandwidth of the hackers on the Blue Suns side by some thirty percent. No one realized to reroute it for a full minute, and the delay only added to the confusion.

Shepard hurled blasts of warpfire down the long corridor, incinerating the last few remaining mercs still trying to advance, before backing up and focusing. She used her pull to make a shoddy and rough barricade of rubble, bodies, and broken mech and battle suit parts at the foot of the bridge, and then scattered flash-pak mines and her omni-goop grenades behind it with proximity triggers.

She dashed backwards towards the warehouse, Zaeed and Grunt following. "Bridge is blocked, at least for the moment. Miranda, status."

"Touched down on the roof, Shepard. Get inside and let's get moving quickly, Vigil says he's being overpowered slowly but surely."

Shepard hustled into the warehouse entry, stepping over shattered corpses and burning wreckage. The entry tunnel was completely covered in splashed blood, bits of bodies, broken armor and scorch marks. Rounding the corner, the lower level was a mess – broken barricades and blood, and a knot of people standing around the form of what had to be Archangel.

A big human in heavy armor with a bald head and vaguely Hispanic features faced her. "...didn't really expect you to show up, Butcher. God knows we need the help. I'm Angel."

She nodded. "We have to move fast. I've got a pair of air trucks on the roof and mechs to help defend, but they need to get inside."

He glanced at a ragged looking lower caste batarian. "Sensat, blow the roof access hatch."

The batarian nodded tapping his omni. "Opened."

Shepard tapped her own commlink. "Miranda, there's a hatch. Half the mechs, have them drop down in the front and suppress incoming. Have Tali and Kiala fix up whatever they can with the turrets up top and drop their own."

Miranda's voice was crisp. "Understood. Sedanya and Solus are on their way down now, Jacob and I will stay in the trucks."

Shepard turned to face Angel. "We don't have much time. I have an associate hacking the Blue Suns mechs and most of their armor and weapons systems. But it won't take them long to purge and eventually they'll get a lockdown and reset code on their mechs. How many wounded do you have?"

Angel grimaced. "Butler has taken severe wounds. I think Krul is dying or dead. They rushed us... one got her with a warp sword, and another asari got past me and .. killed one of our hackers, Weaver. Sensat is okay. I'm banged up but mostly alright. Sidonis and Mierin are hurt bad, Erash is in the back with a life-threatening infection."

He gestured to the bulky form of Archangel and the bloodied, dazed looking asari next to him fiddling with his helmet. "Melenis?"

She spat blood. "Broken rib, shots in my legs and shoulders. Probably going into shock." She tugged at the armor and gave a weak sob. "I think he blacked out, we have to get him out of this armor..."

Mordin and Sedanya rushed down from above, followed by a file of black-armored mechs with heavy weapons. Shepard jerked her head. "Half the mechs upstairs, half in the tunnel. Grunt, the tunnel with them – NOTHING gets past."

He nodded. "Yes, battlemaster."

She glanced at Zaeed. "Zaeed... upstairs?"

"Fine by me. This is a guddamned duck hunt, haven't had this much fun since I shot up that cult on Viden Seven."

Angel blinked. "...Zaeed? Massani?"

Zaeed glanced over, then a faint smile crossed his cold features. "Well, if it isn't little Johnny Angel all grown up and badass. Gotta say, you don't know when to stop getting in over yer head do you, boy?" He walked up the stairs, laughing softly, leaving Angel with his mouth open.

Shepard glanced down at Archangel as Mordin bent down to help Melenis. "Please. Allow me. You are wounded."

Sedanya gently took Melenis to one side, speaking calmly and slowly. Mordin exhaled. "Armor has medical functions, but not engaged. Curious. Custom build? Odd. Settings for female turian." He sighed. "Injecting stimulants, clotting agent. Should stabilize. Need to finish removing helmet."

As Mordin slid something into the armor's medical port, the turian Angel called Sidonis gave a weak laugh. "Ahaha. You hear that old man? Even the _suit_ thinks you're a bitch."

A modulated growling voice, weak but deep, answered from the speaker a few seconds later. "Go... prong yourself... soft claw."

Shepard smiled faintly. "Mordin? How badly is he hurt, and will he live? Can we move him?"

With a snap, Mordin undid the shoulder and chest segment, setting the broken armor section to one side. "Survival likely, other outcomes unknown.. Heart rate erratic. Still in shock. Most of blast glanced off, lucky. But now comes tricky part. Armor fragments. Damage to mandible, chest, dangerous if air sac punctured." He gave a sharp inhalation. "Will need to remove helmet to make sure."

Sedanya was applying some kind of wrapped bandage with a brace around it on the stump of the skinnier asari woman, who had slumped unconscious and was being held by Sidonis. The rest of the Archangel's team was standing in what looked like shock, and Angel took a deep breath. "...I'm sorry, this... it's a lot to take in. I thought we were dead. What is the plan?"

Shepard nodded. "It's okay. You fucked them up pretty bad. Plan is simple - we get you healed up enough to move and get the hell out. I think we have at least ten minutes to get you guys field dressed and medevac, assuming Shiny can hold his shit together that long."

"I heard that, meatbag."

Angel jerked his head at the sound of Vigil's voice. "That voice! You're the one who hacked the gunships!?"

Vigil's voice was smugger than usual. "Well, this primitive chest-beating primate certainly didn't. I was actually surprised the Broker's data security would be so sloppy for the heat control systems on the gunships."

The batarian named Sensat's eyes widened. "But... to hack the environmental systems... using a laser link... no one is that fast! You'd have to do nine hacks at once!"

Vigil merely gave amused, faint laughter. "Tandem links. So seventy two hacks at once. Trivial. I just hacked every weapon, armor, bot, and system on the battlefield out there. I'm – "

Shepard interrupted. "You're completely full of yourself. Now, hush, grown ups are talking." She turned to face Angel. "We're getting the turrets and what not back online, and I blocked the bridge. With the chaos out there as they sort out their systems, we should be able to move out without them seeing it. We'll get you out while the mechs and what we set up distract them. We have a way out they don't know about... hopefully."

Mordin gave a cluck sound and pulled off the helmet of Archangel gingerly, then sighed. "Ah! Round didn't break collar, excellent. But... will need cybernetic correction. Pity."

The voice that sounded next, from Archangel, now shorn of his modulator from his armor, struck Shepard almost numb. It sounded just like Garrus' voice, and the pain that brought shocked her. "...Gah. Story of my life, doc. Already have some in me now. Still better looking than Sidonis."

Shepard slowly turned and walked towards Archangel, before looking down. The face was washed in sticky blue blood and viscera around the neck and right jaw. But the visor was almost the same, if now done in black and a darker blue. The silvery plates and sharp blue lines were the same. The cybernetic eye was new, but the other one was the same steady, cool appraising eye she'd seen for the first time so long ago under the cherry blossom trees of the Citadel.

Her voice caught in her throat, and her voice was shaky. "...G-Garrus Vakarian...?"

Archangel's good eye blinked. "...do I know you? I mean...you are the Butcher..."

Shepard was silent for a long, long moment. Then with a single motion, she tapped her helmet control and let it slide back into the neck of her armor.

Soft black hair swung down to frame her features, and Garrus' good eye narrowed. "...So I died after all. This is the spirit world?"

Shepard felt dizzy, before she took a deep breath. "No, you aren't dead, Garrus."

The turian's eye narrowed in perplexity before slowly closing as Mordin did something. "Sedated him. Blood loss extensive. Other wounds, not properly treated. Malnutrition. Stress fractures." He glanced up at Angel. "Poor medical care?"

Angel shrugged, looking exhausted. "We've been running on empty a while, doc. Last couple of weeks have been complete hell. Right after you left the station, Aria put a lockdown on the cyberdocs. Ripper bought it earlier... we've only had Melenis for medical care."

Shepard shook her head, finally coming out of her daze "...Garrus is _alive_?"

Angel finally took a really good look at Shepard, and paled. "...What in the hell? You're... but you're dead... what the _fuck_ is going on?"

Shepard took a deep breath. "Very long story. Not now. How did you meet... Garrus? I need to know."

Jack snorted. "Is now really the time for history hour, grandma?"

Shepard glanced back. "That's my best friend lying there half-dead. I have half a mind to fuck up this entire fucking station." A subtle flare of biotic energy sheened her form, and Jack held up both hands.

"Whoa. Fucking chill. Jeez. So, I mean, shit. He's alive. You should be fucking happy, right?"

Shepard turned back to Angel. "How."

Angel licked his lips. "We found him in the aftermath of the Burning. The news had reported him dead, and he told us... to keep his identity a secret. And... well. We did." He glanced at Mordin. "You were the one who treated him, doc."

Mordin shrugged, busy doing something with a medical tool to Garrus' neck. "Yes. But hardly recognizable. Missing arm, leg, most of face, eye. Did not recognize. Turians very similar to salarian eye without facial patterns." His thin mouth made a weak smile. "Good news... not dying. Bad news, not going to be able to fight anytime soon."

Shepard took a deep breath and nodded. "Finish patching everyone up enough to move in five." She gripped her ODIN tightly. "Miranda, did the Illusive Man know?"

Miranda's voice on the comm was wary. "I cannot see how he could know, Shepard...and if he did, it would have been more logical to tell you than hide the fact." Her voice turned wry. "He's very skilled but he doesn't know everything, after all."

**O-TWCD-O**

At the back of the column, Tarek wiped blood off of his armor, the twin barrels of his custom-built SIU teardown shotgun smoking. "Well?"

The Suns engineer on the haptic programming deck hot-spliced into the comms system of the battle-suit hulking above him nodded. "Code is clean, purge wiping now. Bots... standing down."

Tarek grimaced as he glanced to his other side, where Jentha's body was still contorted where it fell, gaping wounds torn into her side where one of the mechs had shot her point blank. While he thought females were weak, Jentha was always coldly efficient and professional, something that had caught his eyes years ago. Having her as an XO attracted recruits that eschewed the legendary womanizing of Vosque or female-hating terror of the main HQ unit.

Her death was a waste, but better her than him.

He shrugged it off a moment later and turned back to the engineer. "Get Darac on the line now, I want every fucking gunship we have out of the docks and into that warehouse in twenty. Send a demo team to find the life support and ventilation controls and blow them to fucking scrap, and if Aria sends a greenshit to complain blow her head off and send it back with a bill for the overwhelming fucking losses we just suffered."

The engineer nodded meekly and scrambled away, and Tarek turned back to see Relli's Kiss approaching. "Now what, _genius_? You've managed to get most of Durm's people killed and most of my force is a mess."

The asari smiled. "I went with my own plan B. We know Archangel is hurt bad and has no way out. I sent in Shift and five of my best war dancers to finish him and the Butcher off."

Tarek shook his head. "Are you fucking blind? That's Zaeed Massani that shot the fuck up out of my men out there! And a giant, fuck-all krogan that destroyed a battle-suit with a single shotgun blast! God knows what the fuck else was there, some lunatics firing a BRKR rail-gun...and you send one goddamned salarian and a handful of drugged up sluts?"

He turned away. "This is a fucking waste. I'm wiping this op once my gunships clear the warehouse, and you can try to take Aria on your own, you sanded up idiot."

Relli's Kiss smiled sweetly, then glanced at Durm. "Do you mind?"

The krogan gave her a hard laugh, and with a single elegant motion, the asari lashed her arm out. The thin green form of the eezo whip uncoiled and with a snap wrapped itself around Tarek's head, and he had time enough for one scream before it activated and his upper body came apart in sprays of blood and viscera.

With a smirk she flicked the whip clean, while the hulking forms of the Blood Pack krogan surrounding the APC glared hard at the Blue Suns soldiers standing there shocked. After a long moment, Relli's Kiss pointed to one of them, a senior Centurion human with graying hair and a cybernetic eye. "You. What's your name?"

The man glanced at the wreckage of his CO, and the krogan wielding heavy weapons surrounding him, and gave a thin, humorless smile. "Brent Raley, Omega Blue Suns acting CO, I expect. Should I tell the men there was an accident, or did Tarek die from the mechs after heroically trying to save Jentha?"

Durm gave another amused bark of laughter. "I _like_ this one."

The asari inclined her head respectfully."That depends. What do you plan to do?"

The human folded his arms. "...Despite understanding why you just fragged my CO, he has a point, ma'am. Most of the Engineering corps is now dead or so badly wounded that they are non-effective, and so much of our equipment and order of battle requires technical support that without it we are not much better than the vorcha troopers."

At her skeptical look, he gave a sigh. "All of our battle-suits are down. Fifty percent of the mechs are nonoperative, all of the heavy mechs are down or need repairs, and we have one badly damaged gunship in the area, on top of thirty nine percent killed and eleven percent injured. I can order the men to knuckle up and go in again, but with the Butcher and Massani in there... some are going to run or refuse orders."

She nodded slowly. "And assuming Eclipse takes the brunt of finishing the Archangel?"

He scratched his chin. "Give me half an hour to pull down what we have left of our engineers from the Black Concourse and to round up and 'convince' some ex-Shadows and we can be back in the fight. Give me an hour to sort everything out and fab up some quick omni-gel repairs and flash programming and we can have our mechs and suits back up and running, at least some of them."

She glanced at Durm, then back at Raley. "You have an hour, Mr. Raley. We expect you'll keep to the agreement regarding Aria?"

He nodded slowly. "...As long as you can still get warlords to back you, yes. If none do..."

She nodded. "If none do then it's pointless and we go our separate ways. You have your hour, use it well."

He stepped away, barking orders to the other Blue Suns, and she smiled when she saw how quick he was to clear the area and surround himself with his own troopers. "He'll do well. Poor Tarek just lost his nerve."

Durm grunted. "If he ever had it. Still... this is a poorly roasted pyjak to feast on, you know. We could lay the assault on Aria to one side until we see how the Broker reacts."

She nodded. "And how successful Shift is."

**O-TWCD-O**

Vigil popped into existence over Shepard's shoulder as she watched Tali spray omni-foam over the entryway to the warehouse. "Primitive, problems."

She turned. "Story of my life, Shiny. Lay it on me."

The sphere pulsed. "The Suns engineers are... more clever than I suspected. They hotlinked their damned battle comms net to an extranet connection to their HQ, and have purged the hacks and overrides. I damaged many mechs, crippled or destroyed all battle-suits, and their forces are battered... but fresh Eclipse and Blood Pack units are even now streaming into Niftu, another thousand or more. Additionally, some of the smaller surviving gangs are coming along with them, probably to loot... but that still adds more firepower."

She scowled. "Wonderful. What else?"

"I am detecting incoming gunships moving out of the Mid-Docks interchange and towards the main cargo access tramline. Based on comms, they are headed here. They'll arrive at the entrance to the path in twenty minutes and find the hole we made into that path in five more minutes after that. They can outrun the trucks by a large margin, and we will need time to get people into the pinnace from the trucks. If they follow us..."

She sighed. "Can you hack them the way you did the earlier ones?"

The sphere pulsed again, more sluggishly. "Maybe... but probably not. These are more primitive gunships, and are less reliant on onboard VI management. I would suggest some kind of quick attempt at covering up our egress – perhaps with the wreckage of the gunships I did hack – would buy us more time, especially if the mechs can convince them people are still defending."

She nodded, and he continued. "Finally... there's someone approaching, by themselves, on foot. A salarian that my databanks have identified as a powerful biotic assassin known as Shift. He is moving at a very high rate of speed, and I am not sure the defenses and mechs will be able to hold off such a foe. What information I have on him makes him out to be very formidable."

Shepard gave a faint smile and tapped her helmet, sealing away her features. "Miranda. ETA."

The Cerberus's officer's voice was tense. "A good five minutes, Shepard. We're loading in the salarian, Erash, now. He may not survive. Kiala'Dost is finishing up with the topside array."

Shepard nodded. "Pick up the pace. I know these people are hurt bad and moving them through a hatch and onto the trucks is tricky but we have problems heading our way, big ugly ones. Gunships, more goons, and some asshole named Shift."

Miranda's voice became concerned. "Shepard, he's a very well known assassin...very nearly as dangerous as Tetrimus."

Shepard flexed her right hand. "Oh, goodie. This will be a practice run, then. Get everything going as fast as possible." She clicked off, turning to Angel, who was stooped over a portable haptic keyboard watching as Sensat did something. "Angel, your people will need to hustle."

He nodded. "Sensat's trying to lock up some of their datalines, but it's hopeless at this point." He clapped his armored hand on the slender batarian's shoulder. "Let's get moving."

The batarian's mouth formed a grim line. "...I guess so." With a sigh, he shut the computer and tossed it aside. "I admit I didn't expect to survive."

Shepard snorted. "We have yet to get out alive yet, so don't get too sure of that."

Grunt stomped forward. "The front entry is sealed and ready. Zaeed is still upstairs. Are more fools coming to fight?"

Shepard nodded sourly. "Yeah, they are."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shift nudged the burned, cracked helmet with his foot, smiling faintly as the baked, bloodstained skull rolled out of it, the last bits of flesh seared into the bone.

The entire passage, from the ceiling to the floor, was a chapel of death and destruction. Flickering bits of flames danced here and there, while corpses were scattered in flayed, pained and awkward lumps in a nearly complete carpet.

"Magnificent. Sloppy, but magnificent." He took off his wraparound glasses, revealing the multiphase cybernetic eyes linked with his blueware interface. "Ladies, I will need to proceed alone at this point – if you can slip around and do your deeds while I engage the Butcher I would be grateful."

The lead Eclipse sister, a purple-skinned asari with vulgar runes for an obscure sex and death cult popular on Omega, gave a thin-lipped smile. "Our goody-two-shoes sister has killed everything that has faced her, do you really think you can beat her?"

He shrugged, carefully taking off the expensive black leather coat he wore, revealing silver-laced cybernetic arms laced with glowing blue circuits and slim-line armor over the rest of his body. His hips were surmounted by criss-crossed belts, festooned with ammo pouches, knife hilts, and a pair of cut-down, modded Zeus pistols with shortened, widened barrels.

"I won't know until I take a bite of the forbidden fruit, now will I?"

With a smile, he laid the coat and his glasses on a ledge free of soot and blood, and then began calmly walking ahead, a faint sheen of biotic energy surrounding him.

The asari lieutenant shrugged. "When you drown, don't complain about the ocean being _deep_." She glanced at her partners, and they all triggered their haptic camo cloaks, slipping into shadows and trailing the salarian mystic at a distance.


	29. Arc II : Keep on trucking

_**A/N**:_

_The final part of my tribute to Khorne is complete.  
_

_We never did get to see how, exactly, they managed to extract Archangel in the game. And, well...  
_

_As usual, t__hanks to the Editing Gang for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes. They deserve more credit than I do._

_Aberron put out a new chapter of **Living an Indoctrinated Dream.**__  
_

* * *

_'...you have to be fucking shitting me!'  
_

_\- Brent Raley, Blue Suns Acting CO, during the Archangel's Ascent Incident  
_

* * *

Shepard watched impatiently as Mordin, Melenis and Jack - the latter using her biotics - carefully moved Garrus, still in the heavy SKYTALON suit, into the back of the second air-truck The first air-truck, with Miranda and Sedanya on board, was full of the most heavily injured, with the asari doctor already building hasty medical support brackets using her omni-tool.

She turned to face Zaeed, who stood on the edge of the roof, peering out via his scope at the entrance to the wide open area holding the warehouse. "Anything?"

He shook his head, lowering Jessie and tapping a control on the side, folding the weapon back up before replacing it on his back. "Nothing yet. I expected another charge by now. Or for this fancy-arse salarian assassin fuck to show up."

He grunted. "Just goes to show if you shoot them up enough they stop charging in like brain-damaged krogan. Still, the quicker we get out of here, the better - I'm always up for a good fight, but if the bosses have any sense they'll send in gunships to wipe this place off the guddamned map."

Shepard nodded, then jerked her thumb to the truck. "I agree - let's not wait around for more trouble than we need, old man." She turned to her right. "Tali, anything on your drones?"

The quarian was helping Sedanya with the medical equipment, and paused to check her omni. "Something is approaching, but it slowed down. At least one... maybe more? The drones are definitely picking up movement, but only bits and pieces. Strange. There's more movement beyond the secondary boundary, a lot of troops but none are moving forward."

Shepard nodded at Tali's words before glancing around in irritation. "Vigil, you've got the place rigged to blow?"

The sphere suddenly appeared over her shoulder. "Yes. We should leave now – the gunships I told you were incoming have slowed slightly - they had minor difficulties getting into the mainline air transport lane, but they are definitely on the way now."

She swung up into the cab of the truck, sliding behind the wheel, and Zaeed got in on the other side as Melenis shut the back hatch. Shepard paused to check the truck's control systems before tapping the controls and starting it up. The truck lifted smoothly, and she looked back over her shoulder into the cargo area.

Grunt was leaned against one wall, Jack sitting next to the still form of Garrus. Melenis knelt next to Garrus with Mordin, the latter doing something with his omni-tool slotted into the medical port on the SKYTALON armor. The two DACT were at the back, still clutching weapons and ready for trouble.

Shepard tapped her comm. "Miranda, take the lead. We'll follow." She half-turned in the seat. "Jack, when we get to the tunnel, I'll need you to use your biotics to drag the wreckage of one of those gunships after us, plug the hole and hide it."

The slender biotic nodded, fiddling with one of the rocket launchers she'd taken from the fight earlier. "That's gonna be rough, but I got it."

Miranda's truck lifted away smoothly, and Shepard triggered the controls, following. Behind them, the shape of the boxy MJOLNIR and the other black armored mechs left behind to keep the illusion that Archangel and the team were still inside took up defensive positions.

Shepard concentrated on driving carefully – she didn't want to jostle Garrus any more than the very minimum possible until Mordin finished working on him. The two trucks slowly glided past the burning gunship wrecks in the air access tunnel, and Jack opened the back hatch of their own air-truck, focusing and emitting a faint biotic sheen.

With a grunt, she extended a slender, finely boned hand, and blue radiance wrapped around the largest piece of wreckage, lifting it cleanly into the air. Trembling, Jack merely held it in place in relation to the truck as they moved, until it hit the side of the tunnel, blocking their entry breech.

With a pained gasp she collapsed and let it go, the quick hand of Montoya catching her arm before she fell out of the truck. The other DACT closed the hatch as Jack slumped to the deck, heaving for air and shaking.

"...Did it."

Shepard nodded curtly. "Very good work, Jack." She smiled, even as the small biotic made a rude gesture and fumbled unsteadily for an energy drink. Shepard concentrated on her driving, the access shaft walls uncomfortably close and tight.

Mordin made a satisfied sound. "Armor fragment removed. Bleeding stopped. Serious injury, but not life-threatening."

Melenis gave a sigh of relief, and Shepard did too. The asari folded her arms. "Can you wake him up, Doctor Solus?"

The salarian gave her a steady look. "Possible, not recommended. Still some hypovolemic shock from blood loss, impact. Also confused, possibly concussed."

Melenis nodded. "I know. But our original escape plan called for him to do a bounce transmit from the armor back to the base, to make the gangs think he was definitely inside. Even if he doesn't want to do that, he'll need to be awake to help figure out how to get out of here."

Mordin folded his arms, before making a swift nod. "As you wish. Wound not life-threatening. Better to rest, but if needed awake, should not harm him." He turned to the medical pack he'd brought with him, and injected the medical port in the armor with something a few seconds later.

Garrus's good eye fluttered and finally opened, the blue glare of his cybernetic one dimming as lenses snapped into focus. "Where..."

Melenis laid a hand on his armored chest. "Stay down. You're safe, Garrus. We're moving away from the base. The Butcher saved us."

Garrus blinked, and then grimaced and ground his fangs as he forced himself to sit up. "The Butcher….Shepard! I saw..."

Shepard tapped her armor, dropping her helmet. She glanced at Zaeed. "Take the wheel?"

He nodded, transferring the control haptic panel to his side, and she got out of her seat, walking into the cargo area to kneel in front of the turian. "...I thought you were dead, chicken." She managed to keep her voice steady, but seeing the turian she thought dead hit her a bit harder than she expected.

It was a curiously good feeling, as if a vast weight had been lessened as it bore down on her, and she wondered if he felt the same as she peered into his alien yet familiar features.

Garrus's expression, hard to read at the best of times, was made more difficult to interpret by the bloody, garish wound along the right side of his face, the heavy medigel bandages covering it, and the cybernetic eye frame. But his eye never left hers. "How in the spirits are you... alive?"

She gave a shaky exhale. "That's a really long story, Garrus. Short version – I got fucking reanimated by our most favorite group of mad scientists and the people who sent you guys to grab my body."

His good mandible flicked. "You... Cerberus brought you back from the dead? That..."

Mordin sniffed. "Science used highly experimental, dubious ethical constraints, financially ruinous. Much of Shepard replaced by tech. Distressing use of clones for testing and tissue replacement. Reckless genetic work." He paused. "Still, essentially correct. Resurrection from death possible."

The form of Vigil pulsed sullenly. "Spare me. Without my input the best they could have achieved is a mindless techno-zombie. Then again, considering her standard level of intellect, perhaps such a failure could have passed as the real thing."

Shepard glared at the sphere. "Can't you ever say anything nice about anyone?"

Vigil bobbed in midair. "Of course I can, herb-smoking jump monkey. I can say many nice things about myself."

She rolled her eyes, turning back to face Garrus. "Anyway. Cerberus rebuilt me. The Illusive Man, their leader, thinks the colony disappearances are connected to the Reapers – and based on what I've found and seen so far, he's right."

Garrus nodded slowly. "He may be right, but that doesn't change the sick garbage we saw on Edolus. The only reason we went along with the whole plan was that we weren't going to allow your body to be … looted and sold." He paused. "And I'll admit the Cerberus people we worked with weren't totally terrible."

He looked up. "But you're still dealing with the devil, Shepard. I hope you're being careful."

She shrugged. "I'm trying. And trust me, I don't like the situation... but there are very good reasons why I also don't trust the Alliance." She bit her lip. "They may have been involved in my... death. And the destruction of the Normandy. And recently we've found out some more things, things so fucked up I don't know what to do."

She blew out a breath. "But I'll deal with that, and the Reapers and Collectors, in good time. My first goal, ultimately, is to find the person who got me killed. The Shadow Broker."

Garrus gave a low, rumbling growl at the name, his good eye narrowing. "I figured out that much before Tetrimus murdered Tel and Liara and damn near killed me." He looked up at Shepard, inhaling her scent. He could smell other things on her, cybernetics, strange smells... but it was definitely her, at least to his senses.

And he figured if Cerberus was making a fake Shepard for evil reasons, they didn't have much need to come rescue a turian. She'd never led him wrong before, and he owed her not only his life, but the lives of his team.

He swallowed and shook his head. "I... don't know what to say, sheep. This is coming a bit fast for me. One second I thought I was done for, the next..."

Melenis gave a gentle smile. "You were always telling us stories of Shepard charging in to save the day, Garrus. Is this any different?"

The turian shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. Back then, things were very black and white. This whole mess..." He shook his head to clear it.

Shepard glanced between the two. "How... did you survive yourself, Garrus? Tali and Joker were pretty convinced you were dead, and they found … well, your leg and arm."

He glanced at Melenis, who shrugged. "We found him, unconscious and dying, in the aftermath of the Burning, and got him to Doctor Solus. We managed to save his life, but... when he found out his mate had died, he decided that there was no point in announcing his survival. Instead he joined us in protecting the weak of Omega."

She smiled. "You see where those tides have led us."

The turian gave an almost sheepish shake of the head. "I... just helped. The name stuck for some of my good deeds. I never expected it to turn out like this."

Shepard clucked. "I should hope not, Garrus. Pissing off gangs bad enough to go after you I can see. You managed to piss off an entire station and three PMCs into wanting to kill you."

Garrus shrugged. "You didn't see this station before we... cleaned it up, Sara. It was sickening. Living sentients, sold for food. Slavery of all kinds. Endless lines of the poor and starving, abused in the mines, shot on the streets. Entire families – entire blocks – living in fear, terror and sorrow."

He clenched his fist. "And no one did anything except watch and say 'oh, well'. No one cared. No one stood up for those people."

Shepard nodded, feeling something in her chest. "That's... how I used to feel. When I went after slavers, seeing little kids crying over the bodies of parents, or getting to a colony too late and seeing burning homes and sobbing relatives. Watching the broken fucked up wreckage of what used to be human beings after years of slavery get freed and kill themselves because they couldn't live with what they had done to them."

She placed a hand on his unwounded shoulder. "The whole galaxy is talking about you. Even your dad."

He flicked his mandible again, this time wryly. "Saw that." He exhaled. "Why... are you here? Did you know – "

She shook her head. "No. The Illusive Man felt you were gunning for the Broker yourself, based on some of your hits – and that you would be a powerful combatant. He wants me to build up a combat team capable of boarding a Collector vessel and capturing it – the Collectors are the ones vanishing the colonies. And they use Reaper technology."

Garrus shook his head. "I'd let myself forget about the Reapers."

Melenis looked confused. "What... are Reapers?"

Shepard opened her mouth to explain when her commlink chimed, Miranda's voice sounding low and urgent.. "Shepard, we have a serious complication. One of the explosions Archangel and his team set off triggered a hull breach in mid-Niftu. It looks like internal blast doors have cut off our exit point where we came into the tunnel system at, and we don't have enough explosives to blast through them."

Shepard paused. "Options?"

Miranda's voice was grim. "We'll have to drive the trucks through the shafts all the way into upper Gozu and then from there, across the Mids to the docks. If they buy that we're still at the warehouse when it explodes, we should be fine. If they don't..."

Shepard grimaced and looked at Garrus. "Any other ways you guys know about? Because driving directly into the docks sounds like … a bad idea."

Zaeed snorted. "Sounds like guddamned suicide. And the fact I keep having to say that phrase, Shepard, ought to make you fucking think a bit about maybe trying something different."

Garrus gave a weak laugh. "Lots, but none of them useful for air-trucks. There are secondary access tramways that lead from Gozu to the transit tunnels that connect the mids to the uppers, and from there you could probably make your way to the secure docking ring for rich types. Problem is, those are locked down by Aria's people."

Shepard grimaced. "Kasumi, any chance you can convince Aria to let us use those?"

The thief's voice sounded dubious over the commlink. "Unknown, Taicho. If we make a clean getaway and everyone thinks we're dead...maybe. But if they figure out we're running – it's one thing for Aria-dono to allow us in, claiming she had no idea who we were. To let us escape through docks she directly controls... would send a message I do not think she wants to give."

A pause. "Also, Taicho, I would like to remind you that the pinnace is unarmed? Even if you get here, it isn't going to be able to evade an entire fleet."

Shepard rubbed her chin. "Great. And there's no chance of getting these doors down?"

Miranda's voice was tired sounding. "Not that we have on us. They're eight feet thick, made of hardened durasteel. Even if we did, the blasts and discharge would basically scream 'here we are' to anyone nearby and would trigger all sorts of alarms."

"Double-fuck." Shepard glanced down at the deck, then back up. "For now take us towards that secondary tramway Garrus spoke of. Tali, drop a big spread of tech-mines behind us as we go, if something is chasing us I want it slowed the fuck down."

She turned to Vigil. "Can you hack the system and open the doors remotely?"

Vigil was silent for several seconds. "No. The system is based on pressure sensor interlocks. I can certainly deactivate some of the alarms, but given the size of the hull breach, I strongly doubt that single set of doors is the only one dropped – more likely, five or six." He bobbed. "I can, however, almost certainly hack whatever security is at these so-called secured docks."

Shepard nodded. "Let's see how things go, then." She turned back to face Garrus. "Once again, I seem to have fucked up part of the rescue."

He shrugged. "We could bypass the mids and most of the Uppers, try to come from the opposite direction of the docks...we'll have to see how the gangs deploy when we get closer. And as for fucking up the rescue...heh."

Garrus merely leaned back against the deck of the air-truck "You and me against a big pile of bad guys. If Wrex were here, it would be just like old times.."

She gave a thin smile. "Maybe." She glanced at the decking, and bit her lip. "When we get out of this shit...and we will, somehow - we'll talk about our next steps."

He sighed. "Shepard... the only next step there can be is finding the Broker and killing him and his flunkies."

Shepard's voice turned cold, and she gave a smile that made Melenis shiver. "That's the plan. Localize him, fuck up whatever he's planning, and after we turn Tetrimus into a fucking smear, kill him too. That bastard took everything from me."

Garrus gave a long exhalation and nodded weakly. "...Good. I had started to... give up on ever having justice for Tel. If you're going after him... I'm in, even if that means working with Cerberus."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shift winced at the comms chatter from the Blue Suns gunships as they closed on the base of the Archangel. "Incoming fire, from the rooftop. Evasive pattern five, scatter and suppress, and get ready to hot drop."

The nine gunships that stormed through the air access tunnel into the main area of the warehouse areal were less heavily armored and armed than the still smoldering wreckage they passed to get here, but were also more nimble. The Blue Suns pilots spread out, firing missiles at the turrets lining the top of the warehouse, while the ones in back swooped low over the bridge, dropping in fire-teams and a heavy salarian VADIS mech.

At the fringes of the entry archway to the open area, Shift paused, tucked behind scorched, badly melted wreckage for cover. The turrets atop the warehouse and inside the front entry, reported as taken down by the last wave, were firing, and had been augmented by additional omniturrets and placed kinetic barriers.

On the second level, black armored figures opened fire on the air-dropped Blue Suns troopers with murderous accuracy. He tapped his commlink, opening a channel to the asari strike team.

"Gunships and ground forces have engaged. Engage your cloaks and use grapple lines to reach the roof. I will go in on foot and provide distraction, and personally down the Butcher."

The asari lieutenant in charge of the six-person team gave a husky laugh. "Your funeral. We're off."

He waited almost a full minute. The gunships were losing badly, despite having blown several large holes in the warehouse – two were down, three more were smoking and losing control. The lead of the last three gunships placed a missile salvo right into the entryway, shredding the turrets there, and as smoke billowed out from the entrance, the heavy form of a human superheavy mech stomped into view, firing as it came at the salarian heavy mech.

The two behemoths traded heavy accelerator fire, and Shift moved, shifting into the variant of the kanquess he preferred, the shield kanquess. He erupted into a blue blur, and came out well within the obscuring smoke cloud generated by the explosions of missiles. The residual energy of the kanquess swirled around him, blocking any incoming fire for a few, precious seconds.

Behind him the mechs continued to clash, and Shift lifted his hands, blue light illuminating his shallow features as he gathered his focus. A moment later and he let go with a titanic lance of biotic energy, the kinetic strike hitting the MJOLNIR mech directly in the back and toppling it to the ground.

It immediately began to get up, but the salarian mech fired directly into the exposed heatsink interchanger pack on the back, and followed that up with a shot from the main gun. The human mech detonated violently.

Above, he heard explosions and saw the blue flare of warpfire, and smiled as he entered the warehouse proper, raising his barrier and staying low. His filter mask sealed away the smoke from his features as he rounded the first switchback.

Nine figures in heavy black armor were tucked into excellent cover. A body-bag lay on a table surrounded by medical detritus, while turian blood was splashed heavily in a puddle to one side. The inside had been shot up pretty badly, and smoke and flames could be seen in the doorway of an upper room.

He moved, throwing a pair of grenades, one smoke and one shield-stripper. As he rolled behind a low barricade the grenades went off, blanketing the area with thick smoke. Heavy fire lanced out in multiple directions, one string of machinegun fire barely missing his head.

He flung a lift field, following that up with a heavy push. The two overlapped and detonated, clearing the smoke but hurling the armored enemies in all directions, mostly slamming them against the walls. He wasted no time, throwing two quick bursts of warpfire at the nearest enemies before kanquessing to the pack at the back.

Even as the figures were getting to their feet he exploded from the kanquess and immediately into a flare, the blast washing over the entire lower floor. He kanquessed up to the second floor balcony as that detonated, smiling to himself at the flawless move even as he launched a flay field at the closest figures.

Oddly enough, he didn't hear any screaming from the figures it hit. Maybe they were already unconscious. They were definitely down, however.

He jerked at the sound of screaming, but frowned as he glanced up. The screams rang out from the room on the second floor – asari ones – and a smoking, charred corpse of one of the asari assault team was flung out of the doorway, falling to the ground in a splat of purplish blood and bits of burning flesh. He winced at the damage done to the Eclipse sister, even as movement on the lower floor caught his eye.

All nine of the figures hit by his flare and flay were standing up. Most of them had their armor melted and blown off, revealing smooth metal surfaces slowly flowing back together even as Shift watched in alarm.

This wasn't Archangel and his team. This was a group of war robots. Shift kanquessed down past them, running flat out towards the entrance and tapping his comm-link.

"Command, this is Shift. Archangel isn't -"

The words – and most of the warehouse – were wiped out by the detonation of sixty barrels of contained plasma and the eezo fuel air explosives planted long ago by Montague. This in turn set off the stacks of weapons, missiles and other gear not yet expended by Archangel and his team. The warehouse vaporized, the blast so strong it buckled the walls of the enclosure, causing more of the ceiling, already damaged, to collapse. Metal flashed and boiled.

Shift, less than sixteen feet from the epicenter of the blast, threw up his strongest barriers. He might as well have thrown up a shield of tissue paper. The salarian biotic master, the asari strike team, the Blue Suns drop team and all the gunships ceased to exist as the blast radiated outwards.

A heavy burst of white fire lashed through the entry archway, burning through for over six hundred feet before petering out, melting everything in its path. The air-tram entryway was obliterated, the entire tunnel collapsing for almost two hundred meters. The entire district shook as the blast punched yet another hole into the side of the station, setting off rad-safe and pressure alarms.

In mid-Niftu, Relli's Kiss and Durm watched the displays, and then the asari nodded. "And this is why I did not lead the charge, my dear krogan. I can guess what Shift was trying to say. Archangel isn't going to surrender. No shit."

Durm gave a low, rumbling laugh. "Shame about the salarian. You build up this badass rep, do crazy stunts, and get taken out by a bomb. No way for a warrior to die. Then again, he wasn't a warrior, he was a sneak and backstabber, so no big loss either way."

He folded his massive arms over his chest. "Now comes the hard part. What to do about Aria?"

Relli's Kiss gave a thoughtful nod. "We don't have a lot of time. Aria's going to surely insist we move as many forces off the station as soon as possible now that Archangel is dead." She paused, as the figure of the Blue Suns temporary CO, Brent Raley, walked up with a pair of engineers.

"Ma'am, we have a **big** fucking problem."

She smiled. "I hope this isn't some misguided issue about the demise of poor Tarek."

He shook his head. "Fuck no. Worse." He exhaled. "The last wave that went in reported getting hits on Archangel before the Butcher arrived. We got tactical video of the warehouse." He tapped his omni-tool, displaying a static image of the warehouse. Two large air-trucks were on the roof, along with several assorted figures working on the turrets, in various styles of armor.

"The gunships that attacked the site were transmitting video in real time, to allow us to plan for a second assault. One of my engineers noticed it." He put up the second image side by side, showing the same warehouse, the rooftop now occupied by black-armored figures of uniform size.

Durm shrugged. "I don't get it."

Relli's Kiss narrowed her eyes, glancing between the two, then cursed. "The air-trucks are gone."

Raley nodded. "Yeah. Also, the people on the roof are all exactly the same size and wearing exactly the same armor. Probably mechs. If we didn't have this video, it would look like we took him out. As it stands... I think Shift's last message was saying the Archangel wasn't there."

Relli's Kiss frowned. "The gunships came through the damned tunnel. There's no other way out!"

Durm shook his head. "The hole the Butcher blew through in the ceiling is still there. That comes out way up in upper Niftu."

She slapped her commlink. "All forces. Seal all exits from Niftu and Vefu immediately! Any remaining heavy units deploy to the mids at once." She slammed her fist into the side of the APC. "Fuck!"

Raley gave a sardonic smile. "There's one good thing. We don't have good telemetry on the trucks, or any decent images of their ID. But they are still just cargo trucks. They can't exactly go very fast, and there's only one way off the station – the docks. We'll either catch them in the mids, or if they're really smart, they'll go through the uppers and come into the docks from above while we're all looking down below."

The asari nodded, calming. "...Very smart. You're already more valuable than Tarek. And this gives us more time to reposition and reorganize after the beating we took to move on Aria. I trust you're still in if the warlords agree?"

The human nodded. "I don't see why not. If we use this right, we can parlay finding Archangel into moving most of our forces around the docks... which would let us secure them and have the warlord's troops be able to board without interference."

She turned to Durm. "Get your trackers at the entrances, and then find a good, fast aircar. I have to call Aria."

**O-TWCD-O**

In the high tower of Afterlife, Aria sat almost serenely on her leather couch, listening to the soft sounds of the music in the club below. Her face was set in a cool, dismissive smile as she received the report from her own agents about what happened in Niftu.

"Clever turian." She lifted a glass of pris para, sipping deeply, then turned back to the display, showing the leader of her huntress corps. "What do you expect him to do next?"

The asari huntress, a failed commando who'd served Aria over three hundred years, gave a casual shrug borne of long familiarity with her mistress. "I have no idea. The Butcher is never predictable, and is very dangerous. Archangel has surprised us again and again. Combined? Whatever they're up to, they wanted to make a clean getaway. That implies they've crested their wave in terms of being able to fight, in my opinion."

Aria smirked. "I would normally agree, given how less than twenty people just incinerated over two thousand. I figure Archangel and his people are probably badly wounded. The Butcher's people, however, are fresh – and based on the shit they pulled on that bridge, way more dangerous. If that fool Relli's Kiss had any brains left from all the red sand, she'd have held Shift in reserve – he could have at least matched the Butcher. Now, I doubt there's anyone on board the station who would survive going toe to toe with that Justicar wannabe."

The huntress gave a laugh. "You could, surely, my queen."

Aria rolled her eyes. "I haven't had nearly enough to drink to be looking forward to that fight." She sipped from her glass again. "As long as she contains her activities to killing off the idiots who think they can supplant me, we have no reason to conflict. And if she gets that vigilante lunatic off my station, all the better." She paused.

"Still, no need to tip my hand. Reach out to the PMCs and place your forces outside of the Black Concourse at their disposal. I'll have the warlords move to intercept positions around the station and at the relay." She killed the comm, before turning as Bray entered the room.

"Well?"

The big batarian lieutenant shrugged. "Warlords Thraken, Sianas, Bulok and Garrison are solidly behind you. Warlord Vrask and Warcaptain Ymoosk are indifferent. The rest are planning to storm the station if the Eclipse can give them an entry point and can take you down. If they can't, most of them will back off, except maybe Ellison. Humans are fucking stupid."

Aria gave a laugh of amusement. "You already had your people plant the charges in the supplies we sent?"

He nodded "I even tossed in a few extra pallets of batarian ale as a gift. No one bothered to check the bulk omnigel stacks. Each one has two M/AM bottles and the omni-gel is an eezo suspension. You send the trigger, and that warlord's flagship turns into atoms. "

She nodded. "Very well. It seems the Archangel and the Butcher have slipped through the Relli's incompetent grasp, and are somewhere in the station – probably the secondary access shafts. Viena is moving her people to support the PMCs. I want your teams prepared to lock down the Black Concourse and the snipers under Gavorn to be ready to take out Relli and Durm on my order."

She paused as Bray tapped notes into his omni, then continued. "They are probably going to move most of their forces to surround the docks – ostensibly, to prevent escape. Indulge them. Don't make a fuss. But make sure the gas containment system and EMP burst fields are ready. If they make a move, gas and EMP the lot of them, then vent them into space."

Bray's mouth twitched into what might have been a small smile. "And the secure docking area? I have that on heavy lockdown right now."

She leaned back. "Mention it to Relli when you communicate with her. Imply the bulk of your heavy forces are there both to protect the dock and safeguard the entrance to the Concourse. She'll try to convince you to move them, do so. Make sure you get a recording of that. If the Butcher is smart enough to escape that way, I don't want anyone claiming I let her go."

Bray tilted his head to the left. "...Even though you basically are doing just that?"

She lifted her chin. "You have my orders, Bray."

**O-TWCD-O**

Miranda's voice was sour on the commlink. "Do you want the good news or the really bad news first, Shepard?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Lay it on me."

"The warehouse detonated – it sounds like, based on what comms Vigil is intercepting, that the blast took out the gunships, sealed the air tramway, and took out the assassin Shift. With that done, there's no way for gunships to find our entry point and catch up to us from behind, or even know where we are."

Shepard nodded. "I take it that is the good news? What is the very bad news?"

"The Blue Suns had video of some kind, and know we escaped. They've rushed forces to seal off Niftu and to move to the area you drilled down into the warehouse area from. More are sealing off Vefu as we speak. And tons of soldiers and mechs are forming up around the docks."

Shepard nodded. "Alright. Get in touch with Kasumi. She's still on the pinnace. Have her go ahead and get it ready to move. We're going to have to fake them out."

Miranda's voice took on a dubious note. "Fake them out?"

Shepard smiled. "They are looking for the Butcher and the Archangel? We'll give them the Butcher and the Archangel. Your truck is full of the most heavily wounded, and they're in no shape for a fight or a chase. Melenis is just a little shaken up and while Garrus is hurt, he's a tough bastard."

Garrus emitted a groan. "This... this is going to end in tears."

She smothered a grin. "We split up. Team Fuck You will catch their attention and lead them on a merry chase, while you get to the pinnace and get out of here."

Miranda's tone became droll. "A brilliant plan. One, may I point out, that leaves you still trapped on a station with thousands of people who want to kill you and no way out."

Shepard shook her head. "Not so. Lateral thinking, Miranda." She tapped her commlink, opening a second channel. "Joker. How close can you get the Normandy to the station?"

The pilot's voice was wary. "...Pretty close. Jacob had the 'tramp light freighter' kit attached to the hull and as long as we're not making any crazy moves, there's a lot of ships just floating around out here, waiting for shipments to clear or whatever. Why?"

Shepard's grin widened. "Oh, no reason."

"Riiight. This better not turn into another clusterfuck like getting off of Virmire."

She sighed. "I really hope not, Joker. Make sure the ship... wait one." She turned to the floating form of Vigil. "I need a map of the station, as much detail as possible, of the area in the uppers where we'll be coming out at."

The sphere flashed, then expanded into flat sheet of shimmering silver. Bright white lines emerged on the smooth surface, forming into a complex map of the station's uppers, dominated by large towers. She examined it for almost ten seconds before nodding to herself.

"Bring the Normandy around to... bearing from base... let's call it bearing one-nine-four tac fifteen, and hold position until I contact you via comms. Oh, and make sure the cargo bay is clear."

"What the shit? Whatever, boss. I'll be there, if only to watch you fuck this up."

Garrus sat up, glancing at the displayed map. "Shepard... that's the main traffic lane that runs through the Uppers. Tight, confining buildings on all sides, heavy traffic, and lots of visibility from all sides."

She smiled. "I know."

His voice took on an edge. "There's a huge number of air-cars, and most of the traffic in the area is automated. Manual piloting in that region is dangerous."

Her smile only widened. "Know that too."

He glanced at the map. "...You're going to have them chase us... in air-cars... into the most busy, congested and dangerous to pilot region of the uppers. And... then?"

She turned to face him, even as Vigil collapsed back into a ball. "Use the traffic and buildings to evade them, then take the air-truck up this long sloped piece of hull material, which is next to open space. Have the Normandy blow a hole in the side, match velocity, and ramp up through the hole, landing the truck into the cargo bay. The Normandy blows disguise and chaff, drops into stealth, blows up anything in our way and escapes. While everyone is chasing the Normandy the pinnace quietly makes its own way out."

Jack gave her a sarcastic thumbs up. The two DACT laughed and cheered. Grunt looked impressed. Zaeed lit a cigar. "That's guddamned suicide. Let's do it."

Garrus traded a long look with Melenis, who stared back. "Your stories never made her sound... well, unhinged, Garrus. That's a worse plan than Montague's idea to blow up the Black Walk."

He muttered. "I think dying just made her crazier." He then got a horrified look on his face. "Wait, who's driving the truck in this lunatic plan of yours?"

Her smile suddenly became beaming and wide, and Garrus shuddered. "Spirits of fate and fortune, just what in the wastes did I do to piss you off this badly?"

The two DACT snorted in unison, and Montoya spoke. "And people say we're crazy for jumping out of shit. You're the ones who let her drive."

Mordin was occupied with his omni-tool, but muttered. "Suggest use of omni-gel to fabricate personal restraints and crash padding prior to ...event. Have seen video of purported driving skills in Citadel Tower assault. Results..." He paused, sniffing deeply. "...disturbing."

Shepard turned back to the controls, huffing. "Fuck all of you. I'm a great driver."

**O-TWCD-O**

The docks were a scene of confusion as Kasumi peered out the wide windows of the pinnace. Blocks of heavily armored Blue Suns centurions with mechs blocked every entrance, stopping every incoming aircar and vehicle and searching carefully. A dozen gunships buzzed angrily over the midline docking ring, as packs of vorcha and hunting varren prowled along the dockside itself.

More Suns infantry, as well as Eclipse sisters, were loading into air-cars, a few of them detaching the roofs and lugging heavy machine guns or rocket launchers. And three flat top cargo lifter trucks were lined up at the entrance, laden with vorcha in jump-packs.

It looked to Kasumi as if the gangs were getting ready to go after the team. That didn't bode very well. And it didn't look as if Aria planned on stopping such things. A quartet of Aria's green-suited commandos leaned lazily against the side of the scanning and traffic control tower, seemingly content to let the PMCs do all the hard work.

Kasumi scowled at that, and turned to the sensor and comms systems of the pinnace.

The pinnace, despite its shabby exterior, was supremely well equipped on the inside, and within a few minutes of hacking she was able to gain limited access to the public Omega networks. Pushing through the public layers towards a series of backdoors she'd set up years earlier, she tried to access some security cameras.

The cameras that were most easily accessed were those far from important areas, and that was fine for Kasumi's purposes. Shepard's rather haphazard escape plan, vague in its details, didn't exactly fill the thief with confidence, but every heist was always made better with a dash of obfuscating confusion.

It took her almost ten minutes to splice in footage of an air-truck like the one Shepard drove moving under a camera, the outline of the Butcher and the Archangel in full armor visible through the glass cab windows. A few minor tweaks and no one would know the difference.

She turned, tapping the comm system. "Taicho, let me know when you plan to perform your distraction. I have mocked up some fake video feeds that I'll feed to the Suns to lead them away from the getaway trucks. The docks are heavily guarded, but a lot of the PMC forces are moving into air-cars and trucks – they plan to come in after you, I think."

Shepard's voice was cool and clear. "Good idea, Goto. Not to insult your skill, but be very sure you don't get traced back – I need that pinnace to be clear for Miranda's team."

Kasumi snorted. "_Please_, Taicho. Trust me."

**O-TWCD-O**

Centurion Valtha Kathorn was, by turian standards, something of a failure. Born to separatist parents, most of his colony was ravaged by the Troubles, and he and most of his family were discommendated and formally cast out from the meritocracy and the Hierarchy.

Given that he was only six when the event happened, it galled him that the Hierarchy threw him away like trash. He gravitated to mercenary work as he grew up, eventually ending up as a mid-rank centurion leader of a Blue Suns heavy fireteam. By all rights, he should have been patrolling some dead-end fueling station or rock in the Traverse.

Instead, due to dumb luck and swapping patrol duties with an old friend, he was cruising in an open-top aircar through the lower sections of the Towers, the poorest part of the Uppers. Two of his heavy gunners clutched LMGs while he scanned around with his drone array for things out of place.

A series of air-trucks floated past, three gray and one white. He pointed and the car soared down lower, the gunners training their weapons on the trucks. As he was about to order them to the tramside, a blaring transmission erupted across his commlinks, a growling, familiar voice that made his stomachs clench around his gullet stones.

"People of Omega. This is the Archangel. Right now, the cowards who went up against me with five hundred to one odds in their favor are picking up their dead and attempting to find their spirits-damned dignity after having their asses handed to them. Too stupid to prevent my escape, too cowardly to face me in the open, now they try to hunt me down in the sky. Frankly, killing you clowns is beginning to get boring."

A second voice, female, purring with amused violence and almost playful overtones, spoke. "Happily, my good friend Archangel isn't done playing with the walking trash on this station yet. Instead he invited me along to play, your friendly neighborhood Butcher. And since you criminal filth are clearly too stupid to figure out the rules of this little game, let me share them with you."

"You see, we are not trapped in here with you. You are trapped in here with us. And the only reason we're even leaving this station intact, much less killing the lot of you, is that frankly you suck. Then again, you're following someone trampier than the Consort and crazier than Jona Sederis, so that isn't surprising."

Panicked comms transmissions suddenly blared on a dozen channels, as a blazing white air-truck soared overhead a truly breakneck speeds. The back hatch was open, a pair of heavily armored figures with what looked like some heavy weapons firing at a now smoking and sinking aircar full of Eclipse. Between them, gleaming in white omni radiance, was the unmistakable figure of the Archangel.

The Butcher's mocking voice sounded again. "You couldn't even kill Archangel. But if you're stupid enough to think you can take the both of us? Come and get it, boys."

With a grimace he flash-framed the truck in his omni and transmitted it. "Vehicle ID confirmed. I can see the sirefucking Archangel. They just shot down an Eclipse car, I need backup!"

The snarling voice of Relli's Kiss spoke. "All units, move to Towers sector one! Durm, shift your people out of Niftu and into Gozu, get them moving up station! The fuckers got right past us, if she gets through the Uppers she'll be at the far end of the docks!"

Kathorn steadied his nerves. "Vask, take us in high and steady. Get ready to rake the truck with fire."

They sped under a pair of haptic signboards, pulling up in a sharp left and coming out over a flat, low-topped building to the truck's right side. The two soldiers were lifting their weapons when a flash of light erupted from the truck and the head of the driver of the aircar just exploded.

Kathorn's last act was to stare at the truck in disbelief that someone could make a shot like that, before a second shot impacted his skull and blew him right out of his aircar.

Swarms of air-cars dropped out of the traffic lanes, firing wildly. Bright blue biotic barriers sprang up around the air-truck as it swooped and dived, a constant stream of BRKR blasts, missiles, and terrible sprays of high energy plasma flak from the barrel of Jessie joining with the steady, unerring fire of the Archangel's sniper rifle.

A pair of Eclipse sisters on skybikes roared off the top of an office building, warp swords alight. Driving with one hand, Shepard casually pulled out her Harrier and put a burst into each one of them with only a glance, sniffing dismissively as their corpses and burning bikes fell to crash into fireballs far below.

Melenis was doing what she could with her limited biotics to provide protection, but Jack's barriers were turning away most of the incoming fire. Mordin was deploying a stream of missile firing omnidrones and an ECM field to throw off Incoming ordinance, while the DACT were firing on full auto, screaming out the kamikaze battle cry and howling in exaltation whenever they blew a lightly armored air car apart.

Vorcha jump-troops were a constant threat - some strapped with bombs, others with rapid-firing light shotguns that harried them constantly. Most missed badly when they launched themselves at the truck, only to eat a snapshot from the driver's window as Shepard fired her Harrier one handed, or to catch sniper fire from Garrus.

But one vorcha was lucky enough to get a shot off, blowing a hole in the side of the drive unit that reduced their speed slightly. Zaeed shot it to pieces, but the damage was done - and it allowed more of their pursuers to get into range.

Shepard kept her eyes on the glide-path projected by the onboard VI. The engines were already red-lined, and she couldn't really go much faster. Her main advantage was her cybernetic reflexes which allowed her to make split second adjustments and turns no living being could calculate, as she tore through a gap between two buildings with literally inches to either side of the truck.

An overlay of the map Vigil had produced was recorded by her graybox and displayed in one corner of her HUD, even as her commlink lit up. "Shepard, this is Miranda. The Suns forces that had stopped our truck lane pulled off. We are now pulling into the docks and... it looks like nobody's bothering to check vehicles. We're going to board the pinnace as soon as possible by just driving the truck right up to it and moving the injured in cargo boxes into the pinnace itself."

Shepard nodded, leaning as she turned into the wheel, dodging an oncoming truck by feet and smiling grimly as it haplessly smashed an aircar full of wildly firing vorcha out of the sky. "Sounds good. Pull out the second the Normandy blows the gig, and keep your guard up – they may figure out sooner or later that we had two trucks."

She clicked off and called out. "You guys handling our guests alright?"

Garrus cursed. "Fucking gunship. Bouncing my rounds. Can you get it with the BRKR?"

Montoya shook his head. "Damned thing is hopping around like a grasshopper on crack. Pilot's good."

Zaeed gave a sneer. "Fuck that noise." He pulled out a heavy canister from the drop pack he'd stowed under his seat, slotting the stock of Jessie into it and connecting a heavy linked tube. "Level four."

The barrel of the seemingly normal Avenger rifle split into threes, attaching to a circular rail attachment that slid forward as the under-stick moved back, sliding into the canister. The red-lit haptics shifted from a dull glow to bright, and Zaeed attached a heavy launch rail on the top, clipping it securely inside the circular guide-rail. "Guddamned amateurs. I hate gunships."

The handle of the gun and the firing trigger slide to one side, and Zaeed grabbed it, aiming the Avenger-turned-minigun and pulling. A stream of hypervelocity destabilized particle rounds erupted with a terrible, grinding firing noise, a streak of fell reddish light that tore across the space between the truck and the gunship. The gunship dodged but the stream of fire followed it, smashing into the port side and tearing a gaping hole in the airship as the rounds detonated in blasts of radiation and heat.

Garrus merely stared at the weapon as Zaeed gave a hard laugh. "How do I not have one of those?"

Zaeed readjusted his aim, dragging his firing pattern in a line and almost sawing two air-cars in half with the firepower. "Ha. There _is_ no other weapon like Jessie in the entire guddamned galaxy, boy. This old bitch has killed more people than the Sao Paulo death squads."

Shepard angled the truck under a low bridge. "Keep the fire up. This is a cargo truck - if they get past Jack's barrier, we're not going to last long under any kind of fire. If they get a good shot at us we're fucked."

Even as she spoke, a missile flashed by, barely missing. Shepard threw the truck into a steep dive, sending Zaeed stumbling back, then wrenched it to the left to avoid a spray of more missiles fired from the ground by a trio of Blue Suns engineers. "Ground units, missile fires. Jesus fuck, this is getting worse. What I wouldn't give for some good old fashioned chaff."

Mordin brightened. "Excellent idea." He tapped a series of controls on his omni-tool before grabbing a canister of omni-gel from his bag. "Not perfect. Should suffice, though." Moving steadily to the back of the craft, he launched yet another drone, this one soaring high above the truck before coming apart in a flare of crackling bits of metal. "EMP discharge cloud. Kills missiles, aircar engines, and ground acquisition sensors."

Shepard smirked as a pair of air cars hit the glittering cloud and stalled, occupants screaming as they slammed full speed into a heavy retaining wall below a tower complex. "Heh. Good idea, Mordin. For a doctor, you come with a lot of nasty tricks."

The salarian paused to trigger an overload routine on yet another closing airbike, then shrugged. "Problems require various solutions. Sometimes healing. Sometimes killing. Sometimes awesome. Am good at all three."

Jack smirked. "Modest too." She gritted her teeth as more machinegun fire blasted the truck, her barriers flickering as she tried to hold them together. "Can't... keep this up much longer, Shepard."

Melenis managed to use a push to knock away a missile, panting. "You must... be incredibly strong to resist so much incoming fire. And so young. How?"

Jack panted, but Shepard answered, a warm tone in her voice. "She's the strongest biotic humanity has ever produced. She can hold these fuckers off for days."

The words made a complex set of emotions flicker across Jack's face, before she tightened her jaw and slugged down a gulp of energy drink. "Fuck yeah I can. Just... shit's _boring_, you know?"

Shepard's soft laughter was nearly drowned out by the howl of the DACT as Montoya's BRKR cannon fired again. The glowing green blast missed its original target by inches, which was still enough to cook the passengers inside to charred meat. The globe traveled on, hitting a support pylon and blasting it to bits, with part of the decking and building above it tumbling down.

Florez's plasma mortar was trickier to target in such chaotic movements, but more than once it vomited out white-hot blasts of plasma that incinerated two or three aircars at once, often times reducing the passengers to screaming agony as molten metal or super-hot plasma splashed over them.

Another one of Florez's plasma blasts crashed into an adjacent tower, and swatted half a dozen air cars and a gunship out of the sky in the collapse, as clouds of choking smoke rose and a rain of debris pattered down in all directions. Garrus scowled. "Can we keep the collateral damage down? Granted this is the Upper District, so most of these people are scum, but some of them are innocent."

Zaeed snorted. "The Archangel, a moralist? Next you'll tell me the guddamned Sisters of Vengeance turn out to be romantics. Nothing much innocent on Omega, turian."

Garrus shook his head, wincing at the pain as he did so, his voice slurred very slightly. "There's always innocence. I have to believe that, believe that the people who died in this fight did so for a reason, a cause."

The mercenary sneered. "Causes and that kind of poppycock only gets you killed. Who needs it?"

Shepard barely avoided a head on collision with a charging aircar, and a vorcha, wearing a jetpack, took advantage of the swerving move to launch, managing to drop onto the truck's rooftop. It immediately unslung its SMG, firing wildly into the cargo area. Several rounds struck Melenis, skittering off her battered armor but still drawing blood.

Garrus angrily tapped his visor, outlining the creature, and fired his sniper rifle through the roof, blowing its head off. As the blasted corpse tumbled off the top of the truck, he flicked a mandible. "No ticket, no ride." He turned to Melenis. "You okay, Mel?"

She winced but nodded, pulling out a medigel packet. "Just a small wound in the calf. I'm fine, Garrus." Still, he noted she was unable to stand up fully, leaning against the wall, the torn armor on her thigh still slowly seeping purple blood.

Vigil's voice spoke. "The only access path to where you want to go is the tunnel straight ahead. All other paths will lead you through an open section of the Uppers where gunships are already in place."

Shepard cursed. "A tunnel? We'll be shot to fucking pieces!"

The sphere pulsed. "Well, to be accurate, you very well may be. However, I do not think you would like to hear the odds of us surviving a gauntlet of twenty-plus gunships with no cover, do you?"

She cursed, and gritted her teeth as she angled the truck down, entered the broad access tunnel. Shepard tensed. "Alright, get ready gang. This is going to be... really ugly."

Even as they entered, the chasers sped up, a pair of fast moving air-cars dropping in behind them, Blue Suns troopers firing with heavy machine guns.

In the tight confines of the tunnel, the ability of Shepard to move and dodge past obstacles and avoid fire was constricted. The DACT, Garrus and Zaeed were firing as fast as they could, but more incoming fire began to hammer Jack's now battered barrier field. The slender biotic sagged against the side of the truck, shaking and covered in sweat as she struggled to maintain her defenses.

A pack of vorcha at the far end of the tunnel lifted missile launchers, and Shepard grimaced. She tapped in a quick command to the autopilot and flung up her own barrier in front of the cab, barely in time before six missiles struck it. The impact shattered her field like glass, and she grunted in agony.

Jack screamed as more fire poured in from behind, collapsing to the floor after coughing up blood, and the barrier faded. A stream of LMG fire tore through the truck's right side, most of it bouncing harmlessly off of Montoya's strong armor, drawing curses in Spanish from the man.

Garrus aimed carefully at the driver of the closest aircar and fired, killing the batarian and sending that car skidding and tumbling into another pair of pursuers. As the cars behind them slowed to maneuver around the wreck, Shepard lowered the truck almost to the very bottom of the tunnel, taking manual control again and slamming it into the pack of vorcha that were almost done reloading their missile launchers.

A half dozen meaty thuds and screams of agony, along with the shuddering of the truck, brought a grim smile to Shepard's face, but she glanced back over her shoulder. "Mordin, help Jack."

He was already doing so, turning the slender biotic over as she gave a groan of pain. "Heart rate erratic. Some internal bleeding." He frowned as she levered herself up with shaky arms and managed to get to her knees, a thin trickle of blood leaking from her nose.

Garrus shot at a skybike that had gotten past the pileup. "You okay?"

She spat blood, giving a scowl as she wiped her mouth. "Just... great. Hey, grandma. Any chance you can... hurry this shit up?"

Mordin knelt next to her, scanning. "Limbic system compromised. Bio-amp is over-extended and nervous system voltages failing. You cannot go on."

Jack gritted her teeth. "Have to."

The salarian sighed, injecting her with something. "Parasympathetic regulator, norepinephrine concentrate. Will not work long." He turned his head to face Shepard. "Needs rest, soon."

Shepard gave a nod, even as Jack raised badly shaking hands and put up her barrier field again. "Doing my best, doc. Hang on, coming up on the end of the tunnel."

Even as she spoke a pair of aircars burst through the smoking debris of the wreck behind them, accelerating rapidly. One was full of vorcha wearing jump-packs, the other driven by an Eclipse ganger with the more heavily armored form of an Eclipse Sunfire, a failed war priestess.

Both DACT fired immediately at the pair of cars, but the older Eclipse asari batted away the plasma and BRKR blast with her own barrier. Garrus yelled. "Problems!"

Even as he did so, vorcha screamed, triggering the jump packs and leaping toward the back of the truck. Zaeed shot one out of the air, a stream of projectiles tearing the creature apart in midair before detonating the pack. Two others landed on the top of the truck, and two crashed directly into the cargo area, bowling over Florez with the impact and lifting shotguns to fire.

One blast hit Jack squarely, sending her back to the deck screaming, the armor vest buckled and burning in places. The other turned to fire on Melenis, who lifted her pistol faster and shot the vorcha in the face, blowing it right back out of the truck.

Garrus whirled, extending his omni-claws on his right arm, cutting into the vorcha's firing arm and chest, killing the miserable thing. But as he did so, the vorcha on the roof began firing into the cargo cabin from above. Both Melenis and Montoya were hit, the latter badly enough that he was knocked to his knees, part of his thick armor breached in places.

Shepard jammed the accelerator and brought the truck upwards, and the vorcha atop the truck barely had time to scream as they impacted the ceiling of the tunnel and were reduced to broken, tumbling corpses. Two more aircars managed to get past the wreckage, speeding up and firing as they came, the bullets tearing into the truck's frame, with no barrier to stop them.

Mordin was working on Jack, having removed the vest. "Armor blocked most of shot." He applied medigel to the narrow, bleeding wound carved by one of the shotgun flechettes, and the biotic girl groaned.

They burst free from the tunnel, but not before Florez tossed his belt of grenades backwards. The explosion blew both chasing air-cars apart, even as the air-truck climbed. Ahead was the vast complex of the Uppers, towers reaching downwards from the vast arch of rock that supported the Black Concourse, and far below the rocky boundary of the mids.

Two huge arches of metal braced the hollow cavern in the asteroid, each of one forming a long, slender ramp towards the sides of the heavy bracing. Eezo-supported floating platforms linked by omni-energy bridges dominated the center, and a crawling nimbus of air-cars in thick streams moved in and out of the area in multiple directions.

Jack's eyes widened. "You're driving into that? Fuck, let me off."

A small alarm began to flash on the control panel of the truck. Shepard winced. "Dammit, some of those shots got through when your barrier fell. Damaged the lift drive, and the engines will start overheating soon. We only have one shot at this, so... hang on."

The bulk of the pursuit had fallen back, but Jack struggled to raise her barrier again and could not. "Fuck!"

Shepard glanced up at Vigil, nodding, then set her fingers into a mnemonic and began generating her own barrier field. "Rest, Jack. I'm not as good as you are with this, but I can keep a barrier up at least for a while. The rest of you… get ready and keep the fuckers off of us, it's reactor run on the Death Star time."

Garrus groaned. "This vakar shit again?"

**O-TWCD-O**

Omega citizens watched in awe as the Archangel's truck dodged incoming traffic and streams of fire with inhuman speed, gasping as Archangel killed a soaring gangster on a jump-pack with a ricochet shot from over a thousand yards that sent him splattering across the gleaming white surface of a nearby office tower.

Live video of the car-chase began streaming onto the extranet in mere minutes, with tens of thousands, than hundred of thousands and finally millions watching. On Palaven, savage cheers rang out from the hastatim camps and many of the more aggressive of the Archangel's fans. Alliance space watched the video feed keenly, covering their eyes or shouting out whoops whenever the truck barely dodged past oncoming traffic.

Although where the truck was headed remained a mystery, all sorts of conjecture immediately began on the extranet. As the chase grew wilder, people began to see what the Butcher was actually planning on doing. And of course, the extranet cheered this on.

Popular DJ and technospinner MC Varout on Earth ran a livestream bounce of the video overdubbed with popular music such as the electronic-slideshift remake of 'Danger Zone'. Other commentators and aircar enthusiasts pointed out the truck model appeared to be a conversion of a Ford/Eldfell G2500 heavy hauler, and wondered how long the engines would hold out.

More than one post suggested mods to the truck. 'See? This is the shit you get when you put a Dodge engine into a damned Ford. Chaos!'.

When Shepard flung the truck into a sliding drift move, a biotic glow lashing to a wall and allowing it to make a turn that the four cars behind it couldn't make, people snickered, watching the pursuing air-cars smash haplessly into – and through – a nearby bank.

'Every bank has a drive-through if you're going fast enough, ya know'.

More and more air-cars joined in, but now Vigil was busy finding vulnerabilities in the software, hacking two or three at a time and crashing the hapless vehicles into one another. Zaeed's minigun conversion and the green-lit flare of BRKR rounds lit up the darkened buildings as the truck sped directly toward the nexus interchange, increasing speed as it did so. Florez's plasma mortar blasted chunks off of buildings, crushing unwary aircars, and rained death on those still trying to shoot at the ship from below.

And on millions of haptic screens and omni-tools, the galaxy watched the Butcher and Archangel defy all odds and death.

On Ilium, tucked in their hidden apartment, Liara and Telanya watched, if for no other reasons than to take their mind off recent events, unaware of the true identity of the truck's occupants. Liara found herself comparing the wild, reckless method of driving to how Shepard would drive, while Tel grudgingly admitted to herself that this Archangel could have even out shot Garrus on his best day.

Aboard the Citadel, in his office, Udina watched the video as one would observe an ongoing train derailment. He muttered to himself. "Ah, Shepard, if you could only see this asari memorialize you. It's like they cloned you and stuck you in an asari body, but with even less tact than you had." He lifted the glass of scotch and sipped it, wondering if he would be called to attend the hearing on David Anderson and his possible release from psych adjustment.

On Tuchanka, in the Hall of the Urdnot, Wrex paused in his mediating arguments between two clan lords to watch the chase, muzzle curling in faint mockery. "Butcher sure is good at running away. Maybe she's not that tough after all, without backup."

The emaciated figure of Jackson next to him snorted. "Sure, Turtle. Because beating the ever loving fuck out of Okeer is totally something you could have done yourself."

Wrex glared back at the man. "I liked you better when you were a berserker, I think."

In the penthouse of an elegant tower on Terra Nova, the Illusive Man watched the chase with narrowed eyes, Trellani leaning against the wall. "I would have hoped for a more... elegant and quiet withdrawal, to be honest."

Trellani shrugged at the man's words, swirling wine in the glass in her hand before drinking. "One who expects the tides to act other than they always have is bound to find only disappointment."

Harper gave a short laugh, picking up his own drink. "In other words, what did I really expect, given it is Shepard? Fair enough." He glanced at the video display again, frowning slightly. "But how exactly does she plan to get out of this... mess?"

The asari matriarch gave an amused smirk. "Based on her history, I would suggest something violent and crazy."

Harper paused, then sipped his drink. "Perhaps. Although there is a certain irony about you, of all people, pointing this out."

Trellani merely laughed softly.

**O-TWCD-O**

Relli's Kiss gritted her teeth as she raced the engine of the Kasris 5550 turbocharged racing aircar across the rooftops and into the pursuit path. The trail of the chase was easy to follow, littered by the burning wreckage of air-cars, the smashed impact sites where more had been blasted into walls, and the occasional pack of corpses far below on the ground level, where Blue Suns troopers gamely kept firing missiles at the truck.

The once brightly glowing biotic shields that protected the truck were fading and flickering now, but they were running out of things to chase the Archangel with. Gunships were being moved up through the mids even now, but it would be another ten minutes before they'd get into weapons range. The chaos in the tunnel had slowed the rest of the pursuit force down, but they were clearing it rapidly, and there were five Eclipse Sunfires and a hundred vorcha jump infantry incoming.

It was only a matter of time, as soon as they could catch up to the truck - the game was over. All she had to do was keep track of the thing. And yet, as she watched it arc higher and higher, her stomach sank.

The asari's eyes widened as she realized the truck was heading into the main traffic junction, a whirling and complex mess of air cars, trucks, and transports managed by a series of haphazard and often poorly programmed VI's, and moving at maximum speed in chaotic patterns.

Surely the Butcher wasn't crazy enough to dive into that.

Without even a hesitation the air-truck accelerated up the ramping side of an overpass and launched out into the air, heading straight for it at top speed, the gunners in the back of the truck firing wildly to dissuade pursuit.

The voice of Durm came across the commlink. "There's not a chance she can make it through that."

The asari bit her lip. If she backed off the chase now, they would be almost impossible to pick up again, and the failure would be laid on her. And if they actually escaped... the Warlords would probably not go through with the plan. The Suns would probably turn on her, and Durm was never fully trustworthy in any case. She shook her head and took another hit of red sand, grinning fiercely behind her mask. "Only one way to make sure."

The air truck plunged into the morass, and Relli's Kiss raced the engines, following.

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard stared aghast at the mint-green sports aircar catching up to them. "I'll give that bitch credit for having a spine."

Zaeed chuckled. "Yeah, but no brain." He lifted his weapon and fired a long blast at the sports car, but a barrier deflected even his heavy firepower. "...okay, maybe she's not an idiot."

Florez and Montoya both fired. The BRKR blast merely bounced off the barrier, while the asari flung up a hand and actually managed to push the plasma mortar blast back at them. The energy blast hit the truck hard, making it skid for a few seconds, melting the left side of the truck slightly as Shepard's barrier couldn't stop it entirely.

"FUCK!" Shepard's voice was laced with pain. "Don't do whatever the fuck that was again."

Florez grimaced, lowering the mortar, and Garrus lifted his sniper. "Bitch is a good driver if she can dodge traffic and manage a barrier. I should have killed her a long time ago." He glanced at the damaged walls, wind whistling through them. "We're sitting ducks with no barrier."

Jack sat up more fully, rubbing the back of her neck where her bio-amp was implanted, the bleeding from her nose now stopped. "I … can try to bring up … my barrier…."

She watched as Shepard stepped away from the controls, laying her arm on Jack's shoulder.

"Rest. We're fine.."

Jack's voice came out painfully slurred and her vision was clearly blurry. "Oh... okay, grandma. But... hey! Who's driving?"

The silvery form of Vigil hovered in the front of the truck, a half dozen pseudopods sunk into the controls. "The primitive is not completely brainless, after all. She cannot hold a barrier and concentrate on driving for very long, while I can hack and interpret the VI piloting flow of traffic while reacting faster than any organic. This is perfectly safe... for us."

Zaeed gave a nasty laugh. "Gunna be a short ride for old Relli's Kiss, I'm guessing."

Shepard nodded. "The rest of them broke off... but we need to lose this bitch fast. Vigil, do it."

The sphere pulsed, rerouting the VI direction command for a heavy airhauler truck to adjust its course few degrees. By the time the salarian driver – or Relli's Kiss – realized they were going to collide, it was far too late.

The aircar was struck dead on, a shell of blue light shattering a second later as the impact was far beyond the ability of the asari's barrier to handle. The broken wreckage of the car spiraled and tumbled towards the ground, the torn and crushed form of Relli's Kiss trapped inside the mangled wreck.

A second later, the eezo whip still on her arm malfunctioned and activated, and the car detonated violently, scattering a spray of scrap and chunks of burning flesh in a gory rain on the hard pavement far below.

Vigil eased the truck into a path behind another truck similar to it. "Aria's people and Blue Suns hackers are rerouting the VI streams even now, primitive. It's now or never, the main force will exit the tunnel access in less than a minute, and a second force of gunships will be coming from the tunnel ahead in less than forty seconds. Between them, we will be overwhelmed and destroyed in seconds once they catch up."

Shepard nodded, taking a deep breath. "Here we go. Shut the back hatch, and everyone strap in tight." She sat back down at the controls, and as the black gaping mouth of the tunnel entry to the Mids swelled in size, tapped the controls and tore the truck out of the traffic pattern, diving sharply for the rim of metal that ran along the edge of the artificial cavern.

The truck landed with a thud, shaking everyone inside, even as Shepard accelerated hard, racing up the slender path provided by the bracing spar. Higher and higher they rose, even as a dozen air-cars managed to pick their way through the traffic nexus to pursue.

Shepard grinned. "Ha, too fucking slow." She tapped her commlink. "Joker, timing on this is going to be tight – there's probably going to be a kinetic barrier system setup to seal hull breaches. Slow your acceleration to … sixteen meters per second."

"Copy that. I'm lined up with the wall of the station... ready to fire on your order, crazy lady."

Garrus looked at the blank expanse of wall ahead and finally realized what Shepard was planning to do in its totality. "You... you need _help_, sheep. This is worse than you driving up the Citadel Tower."

Shepard only grinned as she gunned the engine, the damaged lift drive starting to struggle, as the truck continued screaming ahead. As impact with the wall was imminent, she tapped her commlink. "Now, Joker!"

She tapped the autopilot - no time to wait on Vigil to link into the car - and flung all her strength into a defensive barrier covering the front of the truck, even as the wall of the station exploded from a single mass driver round, blowing a hole four times as wide as the truck.

Hovering in space barely fifty feet from the station was the darkened bulk of the Normandy, her lines obscured by boxy attachments and a haptic disguise projection field. The cargo bay doors were open and the ramp angled all the way down, and a handful of crewmen stood at the sides of the bay, in environmental suits and holding fire extinguishers.

The air-truck roared through the breach, the eezo lift systems flailing for anything to repulse against, and the truck tumbled slightly, landing awkwardly at the front of the cargo bay and tipping onto one side as it skidded forward. It slammed hard into the blocking wall that separated the bay from the deployment section, the front of the trunk crumpling.

The omni-gel restraints and padding Mordin rigged up held for most of the occupants, although the two DACT tore free and slammed into Garrus's armored bulk. Even as the truck stopped, the bay doors were closing, closing out the sight of the hole in the station and what looked like dozens of gunships pouring into the open area of the Uppers in frustrated pursuit.

A few managed to fire rockets or mass accelerators, all of which pinged impotently off the now raised kinetic barriers of the Normandy as she pulled away.

Pressly's voice rang across the 1MC. "All hands, set battle condition 1SQ. All hands stand by to repel boarders, secure for high speed maneuvering."

Joker immediately dropped the ship into a full powered dive, blowing the bolts on the disguise kit and dropping the haptic field. The black, gold and white lines of the SR2 Normandy, its name blazing white on black, erupted into view, pausing long enough to plant two torpedoes directly into the nearest GTS towers jutting from the edge of the station.

The ship nosed out and away, engines sliding back and flaring with power as the ship roared forward. GARDIAN laser towers spun and tracked, but Vigil was already working the ECM suites of the ship while jamming the targeting VI with junk acquisition data, and the white hot lasers missed cleanly.

The ships of the various warlords, so carefully arranged to make sure nothing could break free of the docks, and Aria's own ships, neatly placed to shoot down any warlords who tried to storm said docks, were completely out of position to chase the Normandy. Nevertheless, they tried, the blockade breaking up as ship after ship vainly strained their engines to get into firing range.

In the CIC, Pressly glanced at the sensor console, as the two ECM techs worked furiously. "Acquisition LADAR locking us up, those mass rail cannons are coming on line."

Pressly nodded tersely. "Joker, full evasive."

The pilot in the cockpit pulled his hat down slightly and nodded, bringing down additional panels. "Vigil, handle weapons and secondaries, I gotta concentrate."

The copy of the sphere floating in the cockpit gave a long suffering sigh. "Vigil, hack everything. Vigil, stop the bad guys. Vigil, fly the fucking ship. What am I, a slave?"

Joker snickered. "Just very vigilant?"

"You aren't funny, meatbag, despite your nickname. Stop. Trying."

Hundreds of missiles were launched at the raptor of black and gold that angled up higher and higher, racing for the relay. And then a powerful ECM burst jammed their sensors, as the heat image of the Normandy simply vanished and the surface of the ship rippled in haptic patterns before fading to absolute, non-reflective black.

**O-TWCD-O**

In her penthouse, Aria stood, watching the haptic displays of the Normandy's escape, and the streams of ships fleeing the Docks or vainly scanning around for evidence of the ship.

Bray nervously watched her expression, wondering if she would take this failure out on the gangs or the warlords. And then Aria did something he'd not seen in a very long time. She burst out laughing.

It wasn't the hard, cool, mocking laughter she gave to victims, or the sultry amused laughter to her guests. This was... girlish _giggling_. He shuddered just hearing it – seeing her double over and crack up was completely unnatural.

A couple of her other bodyguards shifted uneasily, as Aria finally recovered her aplomb, still chuckling. She turned off the haptic screen with a smile and flopped down onto her couch, holding her stomach and snickering.

After several long seconds, Bray stepped forward hesitantly. "Aria...?"

"Oh, Bray. Allow me one moment of normal mirth before dragging me back to the real world."

Her smile faded a bit, but there was an unusual crinkle in her eyes that bespoke of her amusement. "That... was the most insanely brilliant stunt I have seen in a very long time. Surrounded by an entire army of PMCs on a hostile station and she not only manages to escape with the Archangel and his entire team unscathed, but blows up Relli's Kiss and breaks the main strength of the PMC's."

She laughed again. "Oh, what a day. Order me up some steak and drishana leaves on pathi from Vicords, and have Captain Gavorn put a hi-ex incendiary round or ten into Durm's skull. And have the Warlords dock – and attend to me, alone, with one guard each. It's time to put an end to this stupidity."

Bray nodded. "What about the PMC's?"

Aria's lips quirked. "After the tragic demise of Durm, inform whoever is running each one they have six hours to get the bulk of their forces off my station... or else I declare a Hunt on them. Imply I have evidence from Archangel that they were on the take from P. If they get violent, EMP and gas the docks like I said earlier."

Bray bowed and walked out to carry out his orders, and another of her bodyguards, a female turian with white and gray face-paint, spoke. "Milady... the Blue Suns recording showed two trucks, not one. Should we continue the search?"

Aria shot her a look. "Are you stupid? Clearly this entire melodramatic exit was cover for the other truck to escape. Probably on the same damned pinnace they arrived in. No, don't bother. Get the salvage and repair teams going ASAP and draft up as many vorcha from the pits as needed to dig out the wreckage in Niftu."

Aria leaned back once more, smiling. "Very well played. Now what, Butcher?"


	30. Arc II : Reunions and Realizations

_**A/N**:_

_This took a lot longer than expected, not just due to personal issues and medical issues but because the scenes just wouldn't gel together. Not sure I'm entirely happy with the results, but having scrapped it four times already a fifth scrap didn't promise any improvements. So here we are. _

_As usual, t__hanks to the Editing Gang for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes. They deserve more credit than I do. Extra credit to Quintin for addressing some weaknesses in several sections...although I'm not sure I fixed them enough. _

_**Aberron** has added quite a few chapters to **Living an Indoctrinated Dream. **Much like me, the poor guy has had to endure some stupid shit this year, and I remain amazed a work of the complexity as what he's written has so few comparative reviews. Along those lines, **RED78910** has a Legend of Korra story up that is shaping up to be interesting if you read that fandom.  
_

* * *

_'Being aboard the Butcher's ship, wounded and alone, was probably even more terrifying than facing down the gangs of Omega. I knew, intellectually, that she probably wouldn't harm me. But I also knew who she really was...and Shepard was never a friend of batarians. Even today, she claims I'm the only one of my kind she can stand. I don't know if that's an honor or an indication something is wrong with me.'  
_

_\- Sensat Vhaelk, 'Recollections of a mere Angel'  
_

* * *

Bray often wondered, when he had time between juggling the disorganized chaos that made up most of his average day, if there was something about Omega itself that made people do stupid things. You would think after countless examples of what happens when you break Aria's First Rule that people would begin to understand that doing so wasn't a _good thing_.

And yet it always happened, again and _again_.

After long years of observation, he was leaning toward the theory that perhaps, since Omega's Black Concourse was made of the same stuff as the Citadel, that the metal emitted rays of stupidity that gradually lowered the intellect of lesser species, like humans and turians, while leaving the facilities of the superior races, such as batarians and, perhaps, some asari, untouched.

_Maybe it just made the asari crazy, _he mused, thinking on all the crazy blues from the station – Aria herself, Sederis, Relli's Kiss, the Night Sisters... the list went on and on.

As he watched the various warlords bicker in the lavishly appointed 'war room' above Afterlife, he sourly noted that his theory was on target so far. More than a few of them wanted to try and chase the Butcher down, and a few were basically accusing Aria of being in league with the Archangel.

Generally speaking, accusing Aria of anything was likely to end up with someone dying, if Aria was feeling generous or amused, and end up being slowly tortured to death or eaten alive by vorcha if she was feeling nasty.

Based on the slight crook to her lips, he went ahead and sent a TTL message to Captain Gavorn - to get the vorcha pit ready and make sure they were nice and hungry. More than one of these warlords would end up there tonight if they got too mouthy. As he sent the message, Aria merely laughed.

"I understand your concerns. But the ones who have betrayed me are dead, and whatever happens to Archangel and the Butcher now isn't my concern. I doubt very strongly that they will come after any of you, but if they do I will of course provide assistance as needed." She made a languid gesture of dismissal. "For now I will do nothing, until I know the reaction of the Council – acting without intelligence strikes me as stupid."

The most powerful of the warlords, Warcaptain Ymoosk, nodded in a clipped fashion. Even among krogan, Ymoosk was something of an anomaly for his sheer endurance and longevity, having lived well over two millennia. "I tend to agree. Chasing this female and the Archangel is likely to make us look like fools if we fail, and success brings a glorious battle... but one we may not win."

The human warlord, Smith, gave an exasperated snort. "It's all fine and good for Aria to say the Butcher isn't a threat, with all of Omega to protect her. But those of us on the edge of the Traverse aren't so fucking laid back about this. She went through Rythek and his group like they were fucking vorcha, and now she's working with Archangel." His scarred, dark features compressed in frustrated anger. "I get the fact that even if we find them taking them out wouldn't be easy, but if we do nothing she'll surely strike at us one by one. What good is this Circle if it won't fucking act?"

Aria's eyes narrowed. "The value of the Circle is that it allows you freedom. It allows us to stand off the forces of the Citadel who would otherwise hunt you down and kill you. The Butcher didn't take out Rythek just to kill slavers - she hasn't hit any of the Bright or Dark Rim groups, or even the batarian separatists. There was a reason behind it, just like there was a reason for her going after Okeer, and for rescuing the Archangel."

She stood. "And I did not survive this far by acting in haste. Two of your number are dead now, because they threw in with the Eclipse in planning to kill me. I haven't forgotten the fact that some of you took a risk in alerting me of that - and if the Butcher does come after any of you, I _will _respond with all the force I have."

Her voice became softer, colder. "But for now, I'm inclined to not poke a stick at the crazy bitch. At the same time, I'm preparing for the day where she will no doubt come after us, or even me."

Warlord Vrusak, an older turian separatist, shook his head. "Aria, we follow your lead because it benefits us. Leaving this crazy vithak alive doesn't benefit anyone. Am I to assume if she does assault us you'll make good our losses, or are you really saying if she comes after someone it won't be you and we're on our own?"

Aria's smirk became a bit thinner. "If there is an attack, the Black Fleet will hunt her down and kill her. But keep in mind that such a large fleet movement is going to spook the Citadel, and could draw us into an open war - one we're not ready for yet. If it's a choice between a few of you losing a slave world or two or all of us losing everything, you can do the math yourself."

Bray tuned out the next five minutes of arguing, when it was clear that the majority of the warlords - those who had territory behind Omega and away from the frontier - were perfectly happy to let the border warlords take the brunt of any of the Butcher's actions. Aria did promise to deploy some of her own ships toward the border, and to pay the Blue Suns and Blood Pack to do additional patrols - probably as a way to get them off the station, Bray figured.

As warlords began filtering out of Aria's meeting room, clearly unhappy, he shifted his attention back to the security displays, reviewing the footage of the fight. Many of the video segments were disjointed and the monitoring overlays in Niftu and Gozu were shit at the best of times, much less after a good third of the district was incinerated. Some of the video wasn't even from Aria's systems, but footage from the Blue Suns databanks that Aria's pet human hacker Avrensis had obtained.

Despite the missing segments in some places, there was more than enough to see the general pattern. Aria had ordered him to scan the video of the fight in Niftu for 'irregularities', whatever those were. There were too many weird things - the hacked gunships, the huge hack that took out most of the mechs and hundreds of other systems - that indicated something else was going on besides one vigilante rescuing another.

From what he saw, the whole assault on Niftu was going fine until the entire district exploded. And pretty much _kept_ exploding, to Bray's sour amusement. The Archangel had clearly planned to try and take down as many of his enemies with him as he could. Bray still had no idea how Archangel could have gotten access to so much high-end military hardware, even if he had, as Aria surmised, taken over the warehouse of a noted gun runner.

For all their talk of hunting, turians were never much for ambush tactics more complex than spring and leap. The fire lanes and sniper tactics were almost salarian, while the rigged up bombs and most of the traps were straight out of the SIU's guidebook, from what little he could see of them.

The aftermath of the attack on the Archangel's base was ugly – Relli's Kiss, Garm, Durm, and Tarek were all dead, along with almost a third of the strike force. Most of the heavy equipment was destroyed, and except for the Blood Pack, most of the senior officers were killed. Of course, Durm had been killed on Aria's orders... not that the Blood Pack cared very much.

He mused sourly that the lack of _care_ was the problem.

Having three PMCs on the station was a Very Bad Thing in Bray's mind. While each had always maintained a force aboard, that force was usually not several thousand strong and heavily equipped with war robots and siege gear. Having them without any kind of leadership or guidance was even worse. He'd already dispatched more of Aria's greensuits and his own armsmen to herd the idiots back toward the docks and get them off the station, and thankfully they were cooperating for now.

Of course, given how stupid they were, he didn't know how long such cooperation would last. Thinking along those lines, Bray had decided against removing the nerve gas array installed in the docks. As Aria always said, it was better to be unnecessarily prepared than to be unprepared with the necessities.

Realizing he'd distracted himself with his thoughts, he scowled and refocused on the Blue Suns recordings, specifically where they nearly killed Archangel before the Butcher's arrival. As he scanned the footage, something strange caught his eye. With a grunt of irritation he rewound the video snippet once again, frowning as he refined the images and zoomed in.

"What in the name of the Dark Gods…" He tapped several controls, pulling up sensor readings, such as they were, and then shook his head in perplexity. After a long moment, he spoke in a quiet tone. "Aria."

She was giving quiet orders to two of her own people, but turned to face him, standing and walking towards him as she did so. "You have found something?"

The batarian gave an uncaring shrug. "You wanted something weird. I found something but I don't know what it is. Here." He zoomed into a grainy shot of the battle at the Archangel's hideout, just after the Butcher had exploded out of the ceiling - using an eezo drill of all things - and focused on the glowing spheres hovering in the air below the hole.

He tapped the panel, showing the sensor logs. "I have no idea what those things are, but the moment they showed up is the moment Blue Suns' entire robot force and most of their armor assets went haywire. At the same time, sensors recorded huge EMP spikes, and the datanets crashed in a dozen places. Whatever these things are, they were generating huge amounts of energy. " He pulled down a different haptic screen. "The same spikes show up here - when the Broker's damned gunships were hacked and taken out in seconds. No normal hacker or even a team could pull that off, and the identical signatures seems like an odd coincidence..."

Aria narrowed her eyes at the screen, tracing a finger against the thin plastic. "...And we know there are no simple coincidences. Good catch, Bray." There was an odd note in her voice that Bray could not remember hearing before, troubled sounding and almost worried. "This... changes things entirely."

Bray's four eyes blinked in confusion, suddenly feeling very itchy even as he kept his voice level. "What is it?" He tried not to imagine just what could worry Aria.

Aria's expression was grim. "More trouble than I want to think about. I've had some reports about something like this, and it's not good. If the Butcher has this … device … she could take us out whenever she felt like it."

She paused, her voice hard. "Set the sensors on highest gain and have them alert if those EMP spikes show up again. Get Avrensis on the line, have him scrub the Blue Suns footage storage databanks of anything that has those spheres in it. Tell him to do it freely and quickly, and I'll overlook the fact that my people saw him talking to certain parties I have animosity with."

She turned away, then paused. "...And Bray? Once you're sure Avrensis has completed that, take a group of your boys and have him thrown out the airlock. He was talking with Tazzik during this rampage, and frankly I can't find anything good about one of my leading data specialists talking with people who are trying to kill me."

Bray grunted and nodded. He never liked that guy anyway.

**O-TWCD-O**

"Queen Matriarch? There is a priority message for you, with a signature of 'Memory', on your primary circuit."

Thana T'Armal, matriarch of the House of T'Armal, managed to conceal her spasm of surprise, then swallowed slowly as she turned to look at the comm panel on the desk.

Her office, atop a spiral tower overlooking the ancestral holdfast of the family carved into the Mountains of Light, was richly decorated if somewhat spartan in design. Aside from the desk and her various haptic screens the only furniture was a pair of reclining couches and a stylized waterfall on the far wall, trickling into a meditation pool. Far below, the splendor of the Thousand Falls of Ervas sounded, a dim roar from the three rivers cascading into huge waterfalls that descended almost a thousand feet to crash into the Lake of Mirrors.

She turned her attention to the comm panel. "Double check the identifier." Only one person used that particular call sign, and it was one she had not received a call from in over three centuries.

"Yes, my Queen. The encryption is verified."

Thana could not even imagine what kind of event would result in this contact. Taking a deep breath to master her emotions, she made sure her voice was steady before tapping the control with an elegant finger.

"I am here."

"As am I... _mother."_

The voice of her daughter Aleema, who now styled herself Aria, was hateful and cold, as it had been every time the two of them conversed. A tiny, sick, and perverse part of Thana was immensely proud of the nightmare her daughter had become – who had single-handedly carved an empire from nothing and made it strong enough to even bring dread and caution to the Citadel.

Aria, who had survived dozens of assassins when she was only a slip of a girl. Who had driven away and shattered an entire Council war-fleet with nothing more than the dregs of the Terminus and clever thinking. Who had killed the most dedicated of Justicars to become perhaps the most feared person in space.

The rest of her just wanted to slap the girl for getting so wrought up over a stupid clanless piece of trash that she would abandon her own house. Granted, the idiots who had been dispatched to fix the situation had erred, but the trouble her stunt had caused had weakened the House greatly, and the thought of how powerful T'Armal would have been with Aleema as its matriarch left a festering sense of failure and resentment.

As she looked at the image of her eldest on the vidscreen, thought, she set both of those thoughts aside. There was a look in her eyes that troubled Thana, one of worry and a trace of something like fear. "You would not contact me unless the matter was of dire urgency."

Aria narrowed her eyes, but bit her lip at the same time and gave a grudging nod. "It is. Normally I would use a courier or... some other method. Unfortunately, time is of the essence, and what I've learned is a threat both to me... and you."

Thana pursed her lips. "I am listening."

Aria's voice had an edge to it as she spoke. "I'm sure you know I have my own agents in place in the Citadel, just like you have your little spies watching me. My people reported some time ago, after Benezia went crazy, that the human Shepard had recovered an old VI of some kind, of Inusannon make. Rumor has it that it was actually an AI... a silvery sphere called Vigil. If the rumors they gathered were correct, this device out-hacked the Council Science Advisory team in seconds."

A reluctant, thin and bitter smile crossed Thana's face. "...Your agents are very good. We tried to keep that as quiet as possible, but yes, the device exists. It is almost certainly an AI of immense power that saw us and our technology as primitive. It was otherwise... uncooperative."

Aria inclined her head and sneered. "Thank you. Not the point. Later on my agents said the device was destroyed by indoctrinated turians or something. That it was gone."

Thana nodded, not mentioning that the memories of the quarians on Freedom's Progress had indicated Vigil might still exist, instead focusing on Aria's face. "And?"

Aria transmitted a file. "During the... battle earlier this morning, the one known as the Butcher penetrated my space station and managed to rescue the vigilante Archangel. During the process, the Broker tried to interfere, but his strike force - a group of advanced gunships - was hacked by unknown parties and taken out. And when the Butcher arrived to save Archangel, over five hundred war robots, mechs and other systems were hacked along with thousands of armor suit and vehicle VIs – at the same time, in a matter of seconds."

Aria's voice tightened. "Anything that powerful could undoubtedly deactivate the defenses of Omega, or even turn them against me. And it certainly could pierce the Veil of the Goddess and find the truth about the Temple of Athame."

The file Aria sent loaded, as she spoke. "That image is what one of the troopers recorded as he was following the Butcher."

Nine glowing orbs, each one identical to the orb in the center, hovered in midair. Aria's voice was cool, but tinged with worry. "Either the Butcher and her backers have found more of these things, or the original was never destroyed and can make copies of itself. Or whatever was destroyed was a copy, designed to fool you. In any event, it's in the hands of someone extremely dangerous"

Thana leaned back, eyes narrow and mind racing, and then grimaced before speaking. "There was evidence on Freedom's Progress, where the Butcher landed and took out a super-heavy mech with a throw, that Vigil was... involved." She took a deep breath. "Why are you telling me this? I understand the danger Vigil represented already. I fail to see why you need to communicate in this manner."

Aria's eyes narrowed. "Two reasons. First, I know the encryption on this line is secure. Almost no one knows about it. I can't afford for the person behind this to know I'm aware of how dangerous they've become."

Aria's voice dipped. "And it's not just the fact the Butcher has Vigil - it's that I know who the Butcher is working for. This person says they want my cooperation. And if that person has a powerful AI in their possession that can do what I saw today, then I don't have much choice but to cooperate – even if I suspect that party may end up betraying me."

Thana nodded. "Cerberus."

She suppressed her smile at Aria's shock, barely visible for a split second. "Yes, we knew. This is hard confirmation, however, and it raises a number of very ugly questions, such as how Cerberus managed to get their hands on Vigil and why is it helping them and not the Citadel. As for the Butcher, the leading theory is that she is Liara T'Soni, working for Cerberus to... gain some kind of revenge."

For some reason, Aria's expression flickered into vast amusement for a second. "I think you've guessed wrong on that. Liara T'Soni died. My people found her and that cop after they fell ten stories into a chop shop."

Thana said nothing, and merely nodded. "I see. That still doesn't explain why you need to talk personally."

Aria shook her head in exasperation. "Obviously you don't. An AI that powerful could uncover things I can't afford to get out. And I have no doubt the Illusive Man will use that to the utmost, to find out my vulnerabilities."

Thana understood. "Ah. Liselle." She leaned back in her comfortable chair, her mind racing. "Now it becomes clear. A perfect method of blackmail against you."

Aria snorted. "And against you, no doubt." She exhaled. "The last message I got from her was that she was being hounded by a Justicar."

Thana nodded slowly. "Indeed. One of the Justicars discovered the fact that she is your daughter. The Justicar sent a transmission out requesting heavy reinforcement and a blockade of the little colony she was at."

Aria's eyes narrowed, and Thana continued. "...Sadly, the Justicar's ship had a warp core failure before she could localize her, and the transmission never made it to the Justicar Order." Thana's face set into a cool sneer. "I appreciate the warning, and if Cerberus attempts to use the AI against us to uncover our secrets I'll deal with that at the appropriate time. The fact that you have a vulnerability to this … device is not my problem."

Aria snorted. "Oh, but it is. If it comes down to it, I'm sure I could tell him several very interesting things about, say, the Temple of Athame, or the slaves you buy from my markets, or the little spy whores you've littered Alliance space with."

Thana grimaced. "And what am I to do? We have no leads on where Cerberus might be." Her voice hardened. "As for your statement of attempting to throw me to the shallows... it wouldn't take much for me to point the Justicar Order in the right direction when it comes to your daughter."

Aria's voice was thick with anger. "Is there no level of depravity you won't sink to? Isn't what you've done already enough?"

Thana gave a weary sigh. "The problem with your outlook on life is you are utterly and completely selfish and self-centered. You took actions you knew I disagreed with and you paid for them. And if you take the actions you talk about now, your daughter will pay for them."

There was a longer moment of silence. The expression on Aria's face shifted several times, finally almost settling into something tired and weary. "...The sins of the mother down to the daughter and all that, I suppose?" Aria's voice hardened. "I suppose I should thank you for not having her killed and for moving the Justicars away from her. After what you pulled I half expected you to kill her yourself."

Aria's voice hardened. "Then again, you probably did it so you could use her against me at a time of your own devising. You always choose what's best for you, after all."

Thana's voice turned to ice. "If you think I had any choices in what I did after your fool stunt in your youth... then you are more blind to the reality of the Thirty than I thought, daughter. I never wanted to kill you. I never wanted to ruin you, or break you. But I could not simply allow what you were doing to happen, leaving aside that you were on the wrong path. And sullying yourself with a clanless and having a purebred child would have ruined us."

"Oh, of course. Goddess forbid you put your own child before the needs of a House that is the sickest group of murderers ever, and before the endless lies and plotting of the rest of that pack of murdering, thieving tramps you call the Council of Matriarchs. Jona was right about you, the only difference between us is that at least I have the crests to admit I'm a fucking criminal."

Thana stiffened, but Aria merely shook her head. "I've done my good deed for the century, and so have you. Thanks for looking out for Liselle better than you did me, but this changes nothing."

Thana's voice became almost faint. "You will not bend? Even in the face of this threat from Cerberus?"

Aria lifted her chin. "Would you? Will you? I called you to warn you and hope that, maybe, you could see a way to aid me instead of stabbing me in the back again, but that was a waste of effort. I'll only bend if you will."

Thana felt that thrill of sick pride again, and pushed it down. "I cannot. But you can, and if you don't; are you prepared for what that will result in? Even if it costs you everything?"

Aria turned to a panel out of view even as she spoke. "If you aren't willing to give up anything for me, why should I be any different?"

Thana's voice hardened. "So that Liselle, at least, will not suffer due to your actions. Do you care nothing for her?"

Aria's eyes narrowed hatefully, but her tone was sickeningly sweet. "Like mother, like daughter." The signal cut out and faded to a blank screen, and Thana sighed and rubbed her temples.

After several minutes of regaining her composure, she tapped a control. "Get me Tevos, now. Highest priority. And get Admiral Vesha and Admiral Ty'ala as well."

She leaned back in her chair, thinking furiously. Aria was no fool - if Harper figured out they knew about Vigil he would no doubt become blatant in using the device instead of subtle. But Aria didn't know everything - the report from the Council Science Advisory team said that Vigil was probably more than a mere AI, possibly some kind of advanced nanotech or picotech engine. Goddess only knew what kind of trouble the man would get into by putting it to use.

She tapped the comm panel again. "Have Tela Vasir contact me as soon as possible. I need a consultation with an old friend of hers."

**O-TWCD-O**

The Normandy escaped the Omega system without much trouble, making three quick jumps then looping back to the Vina System to rendezvous with the pinnace, a process that took roughly four hours. Most of this time was spent by making sure no one was following them and leaving a decoy trail leading towards asari space.

Given how badly wounded most of Garrus' people were, Shepard wanted to link up with the pinnace as soon as possible. While the smaller vessel had some medical equipment on it and even extra supplies, as well as both Miranda and Sedanya, it wasn't going to ever be as good as the Normandy's sickbay. With that in mind, Pressly hastened to make contact as quickly as he could and figure out a good rendezvous.

Garrus and Melenis were taken to the Normandy's sickbay immediately, the latter being taken out of his armor once he got there, revealing he was more wounded than he let on. Shepard wanted to hover, but Mordin needed space to work, and so instead she went down to the starboard cargo bay and helped set up the expanded medical facility there. He rapidly demonstrated he was a very competent medical doctor, stabilizing them both quickly.

Given the number of times the old Normandy had heavy casualties beyond its capacity to treat, one change that Cerberus had made to the new ship was enabling the cargo bays to be converted to fully equipped medical bays of their own. This wasn't a quick process – Shepard and Grunt did most of the removal of panels and pulling down medical beds, while Kelly helped out where she could. Jack was still in sickbay herself, having dangerously strained her biotics and body during the escape.

By the time the secondary medical bay was ready, Joker was docking with the pinnace, and the survivors of Archangel's team were lead aboard and to the medical treatment areas for the most part. Shepard sent Miranda and Sedanya to help with the injured, then glanced up as the mostly uninjured Angel walked up to her. "...I still can't believe we all got away. Thank you... very much."

Shepard waved it off. "No need for thanks. You people were doing good work, and Garrus... is probably the closest friend I've got. Or had. If I'd known he was still alive I'd have torn Omega apart to get him." She gestured to the elevator. "If you're hurt you should check in with the medical team."

The ex-Marine shrugged. "A couple of grazes your asari doc already fixed up with medigel back at the warehouse. I'm just exhausted, not hurt." He exhaled. "No, I think I need to talk to you, in private if possible."

Shepard arched an eyebrow but nodded. "Alright, follow me." She lead him to the elevator and then up to the top deck, where she lead the way into her quarters. "Make yourself comfortable. Scotch if you need some."

Angel laughed and shook his head. "Not right now, thanks... although probably later on I'll want to get drunk enough to pass out." He paused, glancing around the room, before frowning and sitting on the sectional couch. She sat as well, hands on her knees, and faced him.

For several seconds, he said nothing, as if searching for words. When he spoke, his voice was rough but clear. "Ma'am... Garrus brought us through some shit I can barely believe we survived. For a long time I led the Angels, but when he took the lead is when things changed on Omega. Most of us went to Omega in the the first place expecting to die, and all of us certainly expected to die this morning."

He looked down at his hands, then back up. "Some of us did check out, but the rest of us are alive. We owe you that. I'm pretty sure if you hadn't gotten us out when you did we'd all be corpses by now, or worse, in the hands of the gang leaders."

He smiled, but it was thin and worried. "But I'm not stupid. This ship, all this high powered gear, you coming back from the dead. Whatever you're doing it's big. Big enough you can't afford things going wrong. You didn't go to all the trouble of making everyone think you were an asari if you were going to let it be known to one and all you were really a human who is supposed to be dead. So I need to know... are we loose ends?"

Shepard snorted. "Absolutely not. I didn't go through all the trouble of rescuing your entire team just to have you eliminated later on."

Angel nodded slowly. "Omega has a way of making people doubt in the motives of others."

She nodded. "I get that. Look, I'd rather wait until my people patch yours up and Garrus is back on his feet before I go over the whole story. But the short version is that shit like the Broker, Aria, even the fucking Batarian Empire is small change against the bigger problem we have coming our way. I'm going to need all the help I can get, in every discipline."

She poured a glass of scotch, pushing her black hair out of her face and drinking. "And I'd be fucking stupid to throw away a group of badasses who took on all of Omega for over a year and came out alive."

Angel nodded slowly, and she frowned. "I'll go ahead and tell you that if you or your people don't want to get involved... I'm not sure how well that would go down. You're right – I can't afford just yet to be exposed. But I'm pretty sure Garrus is going to stick around... would that mean your team would as well?"

Angel laughed. "It's more Garrus' team than mine now. But... most likely yes. Almost none of us have anywhere to go, and the Broker wanted some of the team dead even before they worked with Garrus. If Krul actually pulls through, she's the only one who might leave. And she won't talk."

Shepard nodded. "That's the female krogan, right? I... might actually need her help most of all. I, uh, have an adolescent krogan on board."

Angel nodded. "Really? Related to the giant one you've got who one-shotted a battle suit?"

Shepard ruefully pinched the bridge of her nose. "No. That _is _the kid."

**O-TWCD-O**

It took two more days to get back to the asteroid base, but only eleven hours to get all of Garrus' people stable and awake. Although most of them were still badly wounded, none of them were going to die, which was certainly cheering news for Garrus. Sedanya had carefully laid in special equipment and supplies of blood plasma and extra blood for every known race except hanar, just on the off chance it was needed.

Shepard sourly reviewed the datapad from the asari doctor listing out the injuries, which read like something out of the good old days when she was going after Saren.

Garrus himself had multiple gunshot wounds, and his plating had been cracked in several places from his throw down with the mech that almost killed him. Melenis had been shot a dozen times and had severe blood loss and some ugly damage to her knee. Both of them were showing signs of malnutrition and low level infections, and Melenis had badly overstrained her biotics in her attempt to save Garrus.

Erash had been purged of the infections that were killing him, but was disoriented and extremely weakened. On top of that he'd been badly wounded before he'd become sick, and had some nerve damage in his legs. The infection had scarred his lungs; which were probably never going to fully heal. Butler had to have a leg removed, and was going to need additional cybernetic correction to his spine and possibly an artificial lung. Sensat, to his horror, nearly lost his eye, but Sedanya was able to repair the optic nerve.

Krul, Sidonis, and Mierin were the most critically injured. Krul awoke from a healing coma, but was missing an arm, a foot, and sported a dozen wounds that would have killed most krogan. Her hump had been ruptured in three places, while several direct hits had taken out one of her hearts, and a good half foot of her lower spinal column, paralyzing her (at least temporarily) below the waist. Mierin's hand was gone and she had a hole blasted through her torso, requiring major surgery, while Sidonis had been shot and blasted in a number of places and was still in serious condition.

Shepard stood next to Garrus' medical bed as Sedanya and Miranda ran down the list of injuries, Sedanya finishing up. "Overall, the fact that any of them survived at all is frankly miraculous. If we didn't have extensive medical technology on the ship I'm not sure Mierin or Krul would have made it. Your people are going to need quite a bit of cybernetic augmentation if they plan to fight again."

Garrus flicked his mandible. "Our cyberdoc, Ripper, got killed on Omega. Makes that a bit tricky, unless you seriously think your Illusive Man is going to spend millions on a bunch of aliens."

Shepard snorted. "He will if he knows what's good for him." She glanced at Miranda, who shrugged and turned to the turian, her voice sharp.

"Mr. Vakarian, the Illusive Man is interested in acquiring your assistance. As is Shepard, no doubt. Given the billions we have already expended on this project already, I assure you a few million more will not even register."

Shepard smirked. "And we have the facilities to fix up your people at my base of ops."

Garrus nodded, but his good eye was still narrowed, and his mandible flickered in poorly concealed agitation. "I'll... have to think about it. Not sure exactly what my team is going to want to do, and I don't want to make decisions for them." Shepard could hear the underlying reservations in his voice.

She glanced at the two doctors. "Is he good enough to talk for a while, doc? We need to discuss some things."

Sedanya frowned. "Yes, but he still needs rest. Talking is fine, walking around or anything else is not."

Shepard made a shooing motion. "He's not going anywhere , I promise. Make sure the others are comfy and let me know how Jack is doing, or if any of Garrus' team needs anything. Miranda... for now, please make sure no outgoing comms get out. I don't think his people are dumb, but better safe than sorry."

The dismissal in her voice was clear, and after trading a look Sedanya and Miranda turned to leave. She watched them head out of the med bay, past the sleeping forms of Melenis and Erash, and then sat down next to Garrus on the counter-top.

For long seconds, she wasn't sure what to say. The two of them examined the other, searching for differences, clues, hints.

To Garrus' vision, Shepard looked almost exactly how she did in the past, perhaps a bit more muscular in the arms. But he could smell metal and oil, the faint burnt electrical tang of cybernetics, and something else. She stood different, almost stolid, and her breathing was almost silent. He could still hear her heartbeat, but it sounded faint and muted. Most of all, she looked... almost as if she was about to snap. There was a hard line to her jaw, a narrow bitterness to the eye, that spoke to him of repressed white-hot rage, perhaps shoved down for the moment but only waiting to explode.

To Shepard, Garrus looked different. Part of his plating on the right side of his face was scarred and shattered, probably where he'd been blasted during the Burning of Omega, and his cybernetic eye looked almost out of place, glowing blue and bright. The once-proud C-SEC tattoo on his arm had been altered with a brand or something into the Archangel's symbol, and what she could see of his torso and arm was littered with badly healed scars and burns. His whole demeanor was tired and almost aged, as if the bright-burning young hotshot cop she knew had died and been replaced by a bitter old man - already frayed at the edges.

An old saying of Rachel came to mind: _It's not the years that matter but the millage._

She remembered snorting inwardly at what she thought was little more than fortune cookie philosophy but seeing Garrus right now she decided there might be something to what Rachel said. Her head dipped forward and she pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, suddenly feeling weary herself. The sigh that escaped her lips was louder than she expected; the words that followed a jumbled, broken mass.

"...holy fuck, Garrus. I'm... glad you here, but... a lot has changed. I don't know exactly what to do." She paused, trying for a semblance of composure. "I didn't expect to find you alive, much less fighting off three mercenary companies."

Garrus gave a grating chuckle, then coughed wetly. He picked up a cloth laid over his chest, wiping blood from his mouth and sighed. "It wasn't easy. I _really _had to work at pissing them off." He paused, plates shifting slightly. "But I know what you mean. I woke up this morning expecting not to see another day, much less you."

He gestured with his hand at the sickbay. "This... all seems crazy. Or a really spirit-twisted dream. The fact that I crushed the worst of Omega is almost buried under the realization that I survived it. And I still can't get my head around them bringing you back from the dead."

She nodded. "You... get past it. Or at least I did. When I woke up it took me a bit to realize I had died. I'm not totally sure it has really hit me yet, I just keep functioning." Her expression twisted. "Like a good little machine."

She sighed, running a hand through the long black hair, and then looked back at him. "It's funny. Or depressing, really. I don't remember heaven... or hell. Or anything. It was like... going to sleep and waking back up." She pushed her hair back roughly. "I wonder if I'm a fake or not. Maybe they genned me up in some lab... to actually think you can come back from the dead – "

Garrus shook his head. "Your smell is off, but most of it's still you. A clone would smell different... and besides, clones don't have memories." His tone lightened. "Not sure why I was stupid enough to think even being blown out of space would kill you. I _told_ you the spirits were watching us, way back on the Citadel when that salarian tried to kill us in that doctor's office and they stopped those sirefucking bullets."

She snickered, then nodded. "Maybe. It... god, it has been hard and fucking miserable, Garrus. I don't even know where to start. Going after Saren and Benezia was easy compared to this."

She began to pace. "The fucking Reapers... what little Vigil has told me about them is worse than I even dreamed. Having seen some of the tech of the Protheans, and the Inusannon... and realizing they got beat _badly_... it's an ugly wake up call. I have no clue how the fuck to unify the galaxy to get ready and the only guy in my corner is motherfucking Jack Harper, alien-hater and nutjob extraordinaire. He seems more than competent, but... that won't help much when it comes time to convince people to listen."

Garrus nodded. "And... no one can help?"

She snorted. "Who? The people you and I needed the most to keep us fucking sane, Liara and Telanya, are dead. Anderson... is in a looney bin. Von Grath got cashiered. President Windsor is exiled. I can count on a few people, but frankly, Garrus? You're about the only one I can trust fully, besides Pressly."

Garrus frowned. "Tali? Joker? Your marines? This doctor?"

She shrugged. "They..." She paused, then sighed. "Tali and Joker basically had their lives saved by TIM. I'm sure I _can _trust them, but a voice in the back of my head makes me wonder how far that goes. With Cerberus, they have jobs, security, safety. They leave, and what? They could never go back to the Systems Alliance, or the quarians. The marines were never briefed on the totality of the mess we were in, and while I trust them to back me over Cerberus, a lot of them are so pissed off at the Alliance they might end up thinking Cerberus is the better deal. Sedanya knows some of it … but even then, Cerberus saved the life of her mate. Not sure if her loyalties aren't divided."

She sighed. "Pressly I trust because I went and got him myself. When I found Pressly, he was in a fucking lift chair with cheap ass alpha silver that didn't work half the time. I got him fixed up and the first thing he told me – after Cerberus docs made him able to walk again – was that he still didn't trust Cerberus and I should be careful."

Garrus nodded. "...having just come from Omega, where trust in others is an excellent way to be betrayed and shot in the head, I can understand. But in that vein? You keep that lack of trust up and you end up a paranoid wreck."

She looked down at her hand, making a fist. "I'm already a wreck, Garrus. I have... pretty much nothing fucking left. They woke me up and showed everyone I loved dying... and then they drop more bullshit on me. I have to save the fucking galaxy. Sure, I have more resources, more help, more... stuff. But what I don't have is... the spirit. I have plans but... getting them to the end point never seems to happen fast enough."

She sighed. "Everything is important. But it feels pointless."

Garrus nodded. "I know how you feel. When they woke me up... when I realized Tel was dead, my family thought I was dead, my body was wrecked... I almost just wanted to off myself. Why was I even bothering to live anymore? I'd failed. Failed to protect my friend, my mate, my comrades. Failed my family." He looked up. "But I had to get back at the Broker before I could do that."

He smiled. "I thought I wanted justice." For a moment he was quiet. "But after spending two years in the hellhole of Omega, I came to an ugly realization. Law, ultimately, is meaningless. It's always going to come down to whoever is the strongest makes the rules, and people suffer because the rules end up being more important than people's lives. I had to fight for something more than law, and order. Something more than blind obedience to orders."

He looked up. "I fought to make people remember _hope_. I fought because I wasn't going to let those vile bastards get away with their sirefucking petty evils without reminding them there was a cost. And yet in the end I just turned into yet another worthless boogeyman."

The turian took a breath. "You have to fight for that. For ourselves, it's over. We fight to keep the light going a little longer, for the people who _haven't _lost it all, who haven't felt this pain, so that they don't have to. That's what I tell myself."

She smiled. "Hope, huh?"

He lifted his arm, making a weak gesture before letting it fall back down. "It's better than just rage. As for the situation... my father, no doubt, would say that when all options but one are taken from you, it is more productive to spend time figuring out how to use it than complaining about it. If they can recreate the Normandy and bring people back from the dead, they have deep pockets and a long reach – things we'll need to kill Tetrimus, and the Broker."

She nodded, and he gave another jerky shrug. "And I'll admit a group like this one certainly has no red tape to get in the way, nothing to slow us down. They could be very useful." He sharpened his voice. "Even so... I'm not sure I like the idea of working with Cerberus. Don't get me wrong. I understand what's at stake. Against the threat of the Reapers, morals mean nothing. Ethics is just a word. But I won't give them a free pass to commit the kind of atrocities we saw in their HQ."

She shrugged. "I've made that point pretty clear to TIM and the rest , more than once. But when it comes down to allies, I didn't have a lot of useful options, Garrus. TIM made a pretty good point that the only people in power would hardly trust me without something hard to offer them, even if they weren't both blisteringly stupid."

The turian nodded, wincing as he did so. "I figured. The Systems Alliance... well, some of the people who I saved were exiles and they told me some pretty ugly things. The fact that you've found out more ugly things isn't much of a surprise. And the Council, well. You already know my opinion on those people."

He slowly raised his arm, using the tip of a talon to force a loose piece of fringe back into its seating. "On the one hand, Cerberus and the Illusive Man could be really useful, and help us get at the Broker a lot faster than the way I was trying to do it. On the other hand, I don't trust the Illusive Man. He's dangerous, and I doubt a guy like that decides to live off of eating krellfish after a lifetime of vakar steak."

Shepard snorted, and Garrus continued. "But ultimately I'd be a fool to let that stop me from getting back at the Broker, Shepard." He smiled. "I find myself not really caring what he's up to if he can just let me get to Tetrimus, and kill him."

Shepard shrugged again. "Kind of the situation I was in. I don't like it, and I've warned him several times if I catch him doing something fucked, he's going to need a really good mortician when I'm done with him. At the same time, the entire galaxy is snorting down idiotball tea as fast as they can. He's the only one making the right moves."

Garrus nodded. "I figured. And I hate it, but... spirits, if the man is right, if the Reapers are coming and the Council is sitting around with a talon up their chute, what fucking choices do we have?"

Shepard gave a bitter smirk. "Shitty and none, chicken. That's... why I'm going along with this." She smiled. "But hey, if I'm walking into hell, I at least got you with me. Right?"

Garrus rolled his eyes. "You had to ask, sheep? Might have me walking into hell with you, but hey – you have to have someone to keep you from being taken out. Spirits knows you can't even spell self-preservation, much less practice it."

She smiled at that. "You might be surprised. After I got command of the Kazan, Admiral Ahern spent a month fixing up my fighting style. I came to realize a lot of the things I did were..." She trailed off, looking away for a moment, then the smile twisted. "...well, not good." She glanced at Garrus and arched an eyebrow. "You look upset."

Garrus flicked a mandible. "Ahern. I guess I could say he's not real popular in turian space after what went down at Dalthos. Made us look like clowns." He settled back into the medical bed a bit more, and gave a jerky shrug. "Not the biggest fan of turians either, I suspect."

She shrugged. "True. I didn't really talk to him too much about that. Frankly, he gets points from me for the fact he backhanded Saren off a dam."

She sighed. "Look, Garrus. Back to what I was saying... what we've found out... the shit we're in... it's a lot worse than just the Broker's crimes, or even the things going down on Omega. Just before we went in to get you, we came across a lot of intel that made us realize we're running out of time. The batarian empire may be indoctrinated, and if Mordin is right, the Collectors are working with the Reapers, and so is the Broker. The human government is probably aware of this and has done nothing – there's every possibility our own leaders may be... if not indoctrinated, influenced."

She took a deep breath. "Worse, the Council is listening to the Broker and thinks the Reaper threat is decades or more away, when according to Vigil we may have years... or months."

Garrus sighed. "Well, that's just fucking wonderful. Do you have any good news?"

Shepard smiled faintly. "Except that my best friend is alive, not right now."

**O-TWCD-O**

Arrival at the base and offloading the teams was a somewhat lengthy affair. Garrus was still in the sickbay, but Angel was up and about, and his face tightened as the ship jumped into the system, taking in the ships in ordered patterns and the heavy defenses visible as they soared past the asteroid monitors.

"...This is a kill zone for anything trying to get in." His voice was quiet, and Shepard nodded.

"That it is. Not much reason for anything to come here, after all." She straightened. "For now, your people will be moved to our medical center. Once everyone is conscious, I'll brief you all, including Garrus, as to what we're doing and the options you have. Until then, we're keeping a comms blackout going."

He nodded. "Understandable." He folded his arms. "Where should I go once we dock?"

Shepard gestured to Kelly. "Doctor Chambers will get you settled in." She glanced at the status repeater, seeing the Normandy's wing configuration shift to docking mode. "If you'll excuse me, I unfortunately have a report to make."

Shepard made sure that everything was moving smoothly once they docked, and then tapped Miranda on the shoulder. "You and Pressly get everyone settled in, and then give me a report on Jack and if she hurt herself. Send one of the frigates to blow up the pinnace we left behind before someone finds it - normally we'd salvage it, but Aria's people cleanly ID'd it and we don't need loose ends. And tell Ezno to go to condition one for data security - hopefully Garrus and his people won't try to commlink or TTL out, but make sure they don't."

The younger woman gave a brisk nod, and Shepard left the ship. Ten minutes later she was in her office, and sat down before tapping the QEC link.

The glowing image of the Illusive Man appeared almost instantly. Dressed in a pair of dark slacks with heavy cuffs and a squared off, layered suit jacket, his shirt was open slightly and missing the usual tie. He gave a sardonic smile and nodded. "Shepard. I see you've succeeded at rescuing Archangel. A surprising turn of events, given his identity."

She shrugged. "Miranda said you didn't know who he was."

Harper nodded. "No, I didn't. To be honest, my presence on Omega has always been very weak, and most of my intel is focused more on Aria herself,and fleet movements. If I had known Mr. Vakarian was Archangel we would have moved to rescue him even before you awoke."

She nodded sourly. "I just bet." She gave a huff. "We also rescued his team. I'm guessing that's acceptable?"

He lifted up a glass of scotch and drank. "Shepard, as I told you when we first met, how you go about building your team to accomplish the mission is up to you. Certainly, a force which generated as much chaos on Omega as they did might be helpful in some aspects." His expression flickered. "What happens to them is up to you."

Shepard folded her arms. "Fine. Anything new I need to know about?"

Harper gave her a slightly troubled look. "Two things. One, the reactor explosion on Ilium that killed a hundred and thirty thousand people and destroyed the Redeemed Sisterhood seems to have been the handiwork of the Broker, in an attempt to draw out and kill the Sisters of Vengeance. Someone meeting the description of Tazzik was killed two days after the explosion – someone overwrote an FTL plotter and crashed an ore freighter into the fortified estate used by the Broker's people on Ilium. While this does mean the Sisters of Vengeance are still alive, their methods are getting more extreme."

Shepard grimaced. "There's a limit to the amount of crazy I'll work with when it comes to terrorists, Harper. It's one thing to blow up a bunch of pirates or shoot the shit out of gangers...killing thousands of innocent people to get at a single target is pretty fucking sloppy. How many people did that kill?"

The Illusive Man shrugged. "At least ten thousand dead, and more wounded or homeless. The entire planet is under martial law, but there's power struggles going on between certain asari corporations and agents of the Thirty that are making the situation chaotic. The Second Asari Fleet is moving towards the system – it is unlikely we'll have localized the Sisters before they enact full lockdown of the entire system."

He paused to sip at his drink before continuing. "As for the Collectors and the colonies, I've placed real-time packet drones, each with a simple QEC transmitter, in each of the systems that the Collectors can reach with one of their 'jumps'. So far, nothing has turned up. The minute the systems get a detection, you'll be alerted. You may consider taking the Normandy and any needed support ships to a location closer to the Traverse so you can respond more quickly."

She nodded. "That's a good idea. Any chance your people could set up a forward base or some place to lay low?"

He narrowed his eyes, tapping at something to one side of the chair, and nodded. "I'll have some assets put together."

She folded her arms. "How is the Council reacting so far to what went down on Omega? The Alliance?"

Harper leaned back. "So far, the Systems Alliance has not made any public statements about Omega. Privately, my people inside tell me the Admiralty is disturbed. There's enough evidence from what you found on the Rythek's group of pirates to implicate the Alliance in buying slaves and looking the other way, so they are unlikely to say anything one way or the other."

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "The Council, on the other hand, is... divided. Obviously Sparatus was overjoyed, and Udina seemed amused by the chaos. The fact that you were able to get in and out of Omega itself without being taken down – and the antics of the entire chase – seem to have made Tevos even more worried. Valern revealed that Dr. Solus has gone 'rogue' and joined your cause, which was an unusual action for him."

Shepard grunted. "I guess being double crossed and shat on by your government isn't just something that happens to me."

Harper puffed on the cigarette. "As for the revelations we discussed prior to Omega, my people are in the process of confirming what we've discovered, and processing the files. Each file has attached metadata, transmissions logs, etc. I don't have deep penetration into the AIS, but what little I have doesn't seem to indicate the Alliance is aware of what we have."

He sipped his drink again. "For now, concentrate on integrating Mr. Vakarian and his people, and making sure they are medically fit. Miranda has already queried me regarding expenses in terms of medical work or cybernetics – I have no objections to those, although I would strongly recommend making sure they plan to join or otherwise be of service before wasting money on advanced augmetics for any of them."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Figures. Anything else?"

Harper leaned forward. "One final thing. Commodore Anderson is having a medical review next week, to determine if he's fit to return to service or not. I haven't been able to get anyone inside the place where they are holding him, but I can confirm the personnel there are not merely medical techs, but most likely HADES. The hearing will be in Vancouver, so there isn't much chance of us getting to Anderson prior to the meeting."

Shepard nodded. "I see. Will you let me know what happens?"

He nodded. "I will. Have Miranda contact me when she's finished with the rest of her duties – we've managed to completely isolate yourself from the rest of Cerberus now, so I need to set up front companies and dummy accounts to allow you to receive supplies and funding."

She nodded and clicked off, leaning back to think.

**O-TWCD-O**

Given how badly Garrus' team was hurt, Shepard expected Sedanya to take more than a few days to clear them to move around, but was surprised to hear the next morning that all of them were in the clear except Erash and Krul.

Of course, that didn't cover how they felt about the entire event. Prior to gathering them all together, she did a short walkaround of the medical bay with Angel, and considered the situation, speaking with each one of them at short length.

Melenis was recovering nicely, but seemed more than a little troubled by the fact she was still alive. Shepard got the impression of a gentle person struggling under a heavy load of guilt, and it wasn't hard, even for Shepard, to see how much she doted over Garrus.

The batarian, Sensat, was jittery and nervous around her. Given her reputation among batarians, that was hardly surprising. He didn't act like most of the batarians she knew, and listening to his story - the disgust he had toward the Hegemony, his relationship with a drell woman, being hounded and outcast from most of his own species. Shepard had never really thought of what the 'average batarian' was like, and Sensat's fear made Shepard feel vaguely guilty.

Likewise, Mierin and Sidonis both came off as somewhat nervous, and both were worried about the other's health. They were both now dealing with the fact they'd nearly died, and while Mierin was determined to keep up what she called 'the good fight', Sidonis' brash bravado came off sounding somewhat thin. Shepard knew, from talking to Garrus, how much value turians put into protecting their mates - and being surrounded by killers and unsure of what was going to happen to them probably made the kid a nervous wreck.

Butler seemed depressed, and listening to his words about the deaths of several others on the team made her realize that the man had almost wanted to die fighting. With no cause to fight for, Butler seemed almost drained of energy and interest in much of anything.

All in all, most of Garrus' team struck her as fundamentally good people, trying to do something that should have been impossible. And having succeeded and escaped alive, they were now floundering, unsure of their purpose, and deeply worried about if they were a liability or not.

Shepard reviewed the medical findings one more time with Sedanya. It would be another month before Krul's savage injuries healed naturally, while Erash would have to wait until cloned bionetic cultures of his lungs could be grown and implanted. Several other team members were going to need cybernetic adjustment, and Sedanya was already working with the medical team to prepare those implants, which in the case of Mierin's hand would also require additional nerve surgery.

Given that they were all at least conscious, however, Shepard had them gathered together in the medical level's open lobby later that afternoon. Having been fed well and having a chance to clean themselves up and not worry about being killed had helped, but all of them still retained a haunted, gaunt look to them.

Garrus himself was on his feet, which drew a murmur of admiration from Jacob about the turian's sheer toughness. He had his arms folded and was wearing a somewhat down at the heels looking armor undersuit, since he'd hardly had a chance to gather his belongings in their flight. Sprawled on the couch next to him, Sidonis wore much the same thing, although his undersuit was at least clean and well kept.

Mierin, Melenis, Sensat, Butler and Angel were wearing Cerberus jumpsuits, without the logo, while Erash was wearing a spare suit of clothes Mordin gave him. Krul was still in the sickbay critical care unit, in a regeneration creche, but had a vidlink right by her bed.

Shepard looked over the group, then gave a faint smile. "Before I get started, is there anything you guys need? My people are repairing your gear and armor, and I've sent off for some generic jumpsuits and jackets in turian and salarian styles, but if you have specific needs, let me know."

Butler muttered something about a drink, and Shepard nodded. "After our talk we'll show you the mess deck and get you settled into some rooms." She took a deep breath.

"I'm not sure what Garrus has told you about me, but I'll go over the parts that matter to you now. I was killed. The Shadow Broker did something to my ship that allowed it to be detected, and a ship that may or may not have been a Collector vessel blew it up. My body was taken from the wreck and put in stasis, and the Burning of Omega happened while my friends - including Garrus - tried to stop the transfer from happening."

She glanced at Garrus. "Whatever was left of my remains was given to Cerberus, who used very advanced technology to basically jumpstart my brain again. Most of my body is now augmented with various cybernetics. At present, there are... issues... with simply announcing my survival, not the least of which is that the Broker is still active and would just try and get me killed again."

"As such, I've been pretending to be an asari. One of the side effects of my resurrection is that my biotics are a lot stronger in terms of pure force than any human. And there is an exile Priestess of Athame who has taught me some of the asari specific tricks."

Mierin gave a rather stern frown at that. "You mean like the fact you can use a warp sword?"

Shepard nodded. "The deception is necessary. Cerberus did not have the most... upstanding reputation after I got done taking most of it apart, and until I have rock hard evidence of what I need to find out, it's best if no one outside of my group knows I still live."

She glanced around the group. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm working with Cerberus, a group of alien-hating asshat terrorists. The short answer is that they've changed. As you can see, we have quarians, salarians, asari and krogan in our ranks. The longer answer is that this section of Cerberus is under my _direct _control - with one exception, everyone on this station answers to me and me alone. If the leader of Cerberus pisses me off or does something unethical, we go our separate ways and I keep control of these forces."

Angel looked skeptical. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but I've heard stories of the Illusive Man... that doesn't sound like his MO, ma'am." He shrugged. "I don't claim any of us are saints ourselves, and I'm sure you have your reasons, but I don't want to be a loose end."

Shepard gave a faint exhalation. "And like I said... you aren't. As for what you have heard…well, you've probably heard the stories about me as well. As I recall, those usually had me killing my own men, eating babies and all other kinds of exaggerations. While the Illusive Man is certainly dangerous in his own way, this is MY operation."

She paused. "Besides, the Illusive Man is more of a banker and spy than any sort of mortal threat. He needs me as much as I need him. Despite the bad taste it leaves in my mouth, as long as he keeps his word and his act clean, I'm inclined to cooperate with him since I need his resources. Likewise, he doesn't have anyone well known enough and trusted enough by galactic society as a whole to convince them Cerberus has changed."

Erash's voice was dry and somewhat sarcastic. "And has it changed?"

Shepard gave a shrug. "Given that it isn't doing crazy experiments or blowing shit up, yes. Most of the operations now are spying, comms hacking, economic crap. I don't have anything to do with any of that. My job is a lot harder."

"You all remember the giant warship that attacked the Citadel during the Benezia Incident, yes?" She saw the nodding heads. "Well, that wasn't a geth warship. It was much older technology, and it had an AI onboard."

She explained to them the situation - the Reapers, the Council's decision to hide the threat and use the geth war as a cover to build up forces, the Broker's information that had resulted in them thinking the threat wasn't immediate. And of the connection to the Collectors, and finally of her overarching goal - to kill the Broker, determine the truth, stop the abductions of humans, and use the evidence to convince the Council to go to full war mobilization before it was too late.

Garrus chimed in here and there, particularly about the horror Sovereign invoked in him, but was mostly silent. Shepard didn't go into the disturbing information they'd recently found, or into her own worries. She took in the shocked and alarmed looks in their eyes, and the tone of their questions was underlaid with horror.

She answered what she could, and then took another deep breath. "Given the situation... the question now becomes how we proceed? The answer is simple. We're going to war, against the Broker. It is going to be a pretty ugly operation and I'll need all the help we can get. Both Garrus and I have... _personal reasons_ to want the Broker dead."

She exhaled. "I don't know your situations, or if you have families you've left behind, or things you wanted to do. Before I waste my time and yours, is there anyone who has any objections to working with us?"

Melenis' eyes narrowed. "That depends on who we answer to."

Shepard shrugged. "Garrus, for most things that don't involve Cerberus resources or equipment. If you're acting as an element in the supporting operations force, then you'd follow the BDO - Mr. Taylor, former Alliance captain. Ultimately, though, you answer to me - and I have no plans to make you do anything you are uncomfortable with."

Garrus shrugged. "You already know I'm along for this ride, Sheep. Just, please - from now on, let someone else do the driving."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "And the rest of you?"

Mierin glanced at Sidonis and spoke. "I'm clanless and the Justicars are after me for offending the House of Storms. The Broker also has taken out a contract on myself and Sidonis. Assuming you provide us with shelter and a chance to live without having to look over our backs, I have no problems working under you."

Sidonis' voice was sarcastic. "Nothing left for me back home except a quick execution for dishonorable conduct. Those are always fun."

Angel shrugged. "I doubt any of us have family to go back to. Most of us went to Omega because they were killed by people on Omega." He paused. "I'm certain that what you've described is the most horrifying thing I've ever heard of. To not participate in fighting it would be betraying everything I believe in."

Erash glanced at the slim figure of Mordin Solus, leaning against the wall. "You have no issues working with Cerberus, Pitchfork?"

"Would not be here if I did. Sad day when Cerberus more palatable than STG. Also, warned you about nickname. Aggravating your doctor prior to lung replacement unwise."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Your nickname is _Pitchfork_?"

The doctor sniffed. "Told you was handy with farm implements."

Erash cackled, which turned into a wet-sounding hacking cough. "Ugh. If Mordin says you're legit I'll be happy to lend what expertise I have, although I don't think I'm cut out for field work."

Butler had no issues, nor did Sensat, although he was amused at the idea that he would be working for the Butcher of Torfan. Melenis rolled her eyes at the question and said her place was with her friends, here.

Krul was silent for long seconds before speaking. "I am unsure of the... wisdom of giving myself over to a human battlemaster. With Angel, I chose to be there. And I could leave when I wanted. My goals were to make the lowers a better place to live."

Her expression over the vidcomm was dubious. "Having a fertile female as part of your krant would give you a certain level of influence over my people, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for that."

Shepard shrugged. "I would think killing Okeer in single combat would give me a certain level of influence."

Krul snorted. "Over the males, perhaps. As vile as the Eternal was, he was sadly right in his disgust over the way our people have fallen. The fact that he murdered tens of thousands of krogan in his experiments and cursed us with the genophage does not alter the fact that my people are prone to following strong and charismatic leaders who lead us into further ruin. Can you promise not to attempt that?"

Shepard nodded. "Urdnot Wrex is my friend. I killed Okeer because he was walking filth, but mostly because he killed Wrex's son. I don't plan on attempting anything with the krogan he wouldn't approve of..."

Krul nodded slowly. "Perhaps. Although you should remind yourself that the name of Urdnot has caused even more ruin than Okeer for our people thus far."

"Maybe so. But I don't turn my back on my friends."

Krul nodded slowly. "...for now, I will work with you. These … Reapers … threaten everything. That much is clear. If you aim to stop it, I will do what I can to aid you."

Shepard glanced around. "If none of you have any objections to working with us... then welcome aboard." She turned to Garrus. "For now, I'd suggest you sit down with Miranda and determine where your people would do the most good."

Garrus rubbed his chin, a habit he'd picked up from Angel. "Angel, Sidonis, Mierin and I are all combatants. Butler and Erash are good hacks and comm analysts, although Butler also does electronic repairs. Melenis is a crash medic and Krul is good with... several things. Teaching, training, mechanics and heavy combat."

Shepard glanced at Miranda. "I'd suggest placing Garrus' combative team-mates with your marines, Shepard. Butler and Erash would be valuable assets in Ops with Trudy. Perhaps Melenis would be capable of working with and learning from doctors Sedanya and Solus." Her mouth quirked into a faint grin. "And perhaps Krul would be useful in helping you deal with Grunt."

Shepard shrugged and turned back to Garrus. "Right now, we're sort of in a holding pattern... waiting for either a lead on the Sisters of Vengeance, or for the Collectors to pull something. That gives us time to get your people healed up, and see about re-equipping them." She smiled. "And, of course, patching your battlesuit up. Which reminds me..."

She turned to Miranda. "Why don't I have a battlesuit?"

Miranda's tone sharpened with exasperation. "Beside the fact that you can punch through case hardened steel with your bare hands and run down an aircar on foot? The primary reason is that it would interfere with your biotics."

Garrus found a laugh from somewhere. "Jealous, Shepard? Really?"

"Shut up, chicken." Shepard smirked. "I guess you do need some sort of help to expect to keep up with me."


	31. Arc II : One Last Deep Breath

_**A/N**:_

_More moving things into position. And some talky stuff. Horizon is coming, gentle readers, very soon.  
_

_As usual, t__hanks to the Editing Gang for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes. They deserve more credit than I do.  
_

**Broken**_by Sirrocco just updated after a pretty long down time.  
_

* * *

_'The nature of revenge is the pursuit of perceived fairness, while justice is only concerned with maintaining order and preventing chaos. Those who confuse the two are rarely truthful with themselves when it comes to why they pursue revenge. Justice does not mute the pain in one's soul nor erase the memories of better times now smeared with loss and pain.'  
_

_\- Benezia T'Soni, 'No Single Raindrop Blames Itself For the Flood'_

* * *

Tela Vasir sighed and wondered, yet again, what in the depths of the sea was the Council of Matriarchs thinking when they assigned her this mission. No stated goals, no real support, endless 'suggestions' and clues that all turned out to be shallow waves, and worst of all, theories that would shame the most paranoid salarian tossed about one after the other that all panned out to nothing.

And as if it wasn't bad enough answering to four different masters in this mess, she was forced to tag along with what she could only call a cosmic vortex of improbability.

It wasn't 'unlucky'. _Unlucky_ was cutting yourself with a knife, or forgetting to load phasic rounds when dealing with a Blue Suns merc. Unlucky was things that happened to everyone once in awhile.

'Unlucky' did not cover the staggering array of strange and extremely unlikely things she had encountered while working with him, including an uncharted black hole, a hostile AI, an ardat-yakshi and a goddess-be-damned jump drift incident that nearly blew up her ship.

Given that, she fully expected the incoming message request to be yet more bad news, or possibly the announcement that a fluke accident had cured the Genophage.

The fact it was coming in on a one-time encryption pad in the low billions of digits did not help her headache at all. And upon further examination, the header identified it as being from the House of Storms, which had sent her stomach into sour convulsions, made even worse by the realization that it was the Queen Matriarch's personal key.

As she waited for the ship to move into the proper position for real-time comms, she glanced around the overseer room aboard her cruiser, the asari equivalent of a CIC. Unlike human and turian ships, the overseer room was buried deep inside the vessel, acting both as a backup bridge and fallback point in case of boarding actions. Hidden behind bands of Silaris armor and reactive force shielding, it was wired into the sensors of the ship.

The map in the center of the room, holoprojected onto a pool of water, was currently clear except for the small task force of ships under her Spectre partner, Delacor. The human Spectre was a good fighter, but stubborn and inclined to think his way was always best. Indeed, much of her frustration in her current role could stem from that. He'd not wanted to stop to allow Tela to communicate with the asari government, claiming their mission from the Council was more important.

Most Spectres were appointed by their governments, after approval from the Council. They retained a dual role, of whatever military rank and position most held in their race as well as their Spectre credentials. The upshot of that was that it more often than not fell to the Council to equip and outfit the Spectre for service, as few militaries were going to simply hand top of the line equipment to be used without their oversight. This, of course, made the Spectre force mostly beholden to the Council's interests. There were Spectres who were, of course, more independent – Saren was the most famous of these, having owned multiple corporations to pay for his wide array of technological toys and expensive ships.

Other Spectres, like Jondum Bau, were simply independently wealthy enough to literally finance themselves. While House Vasir was hardly poor, its fortunes had waned since the fall of Aethyta as matriarch and the near-total collapse of the Armali Council.

Tela, taking the advice of her family, had broke the standard mold when it came to funding, since her family couldn't afford it and she did not relish the idea of being beholden totally to the Citadel. She retained a rank in the asari military, but not in the naval service – technically she was a high huntress in the militia of the city-state of Serrice. In that capacity she answered pretty much solely to the Council of Matriarchs. The advantage this gave her was the right to raise and muster huntresses of her own, for her personal use, without oversight.

Her funding came from her open relationship with the Shadow Broker, who had paid for, among other things, the cruiser she used, and gave her the resources to retain such personnel as retired war priestesses, salarian gunners, and turian pilots. On the side, she also had a commission with the House of Vasir, in return for the use of the House battle-suit from time to time.

As an active duty Spectre – one of the most senior – she also had to answer both to the Council and occasionally to the whims of Tevos. All of this added up to a great deal of independence… on paper. In practice, she often found herself spending more time carefully making sure requests from one party that backed her didn't interfere with the wishes of another.

Which was why this mission was a headache.

The Broker wanted her to go to Ilium, and eliminate the thorn in his side known as the Sisters of Vengeance. The Council wanted her to work with Delacor to localize the Butcher and Cerberus. House Vasir wanted her to investigate rumors that Aethyta had perhaps survived, based on something they heard from some Remembrance Dancer. The asari government, such as it was, wanted her to spend more time on Thessia training huntresses.

She glanced again at the comm panel, fidgeting in her seat as the ship moved through space to get into the correct transmission lane. A direct request from Matriarch Thana T'Armal could not simply be ignored, after all.

The senior-most of her navigation officers spoke, her dark purple features somewhat tense as her hands flew over blue-tinted haptics. "Mistress, we are currently in the tier one comm-lane. Signal strength is good, establishing encryption links now."

Tela nodded, standing. "Good. Make very sure the humans don't try to tap the signal. I'll be in my chamber, if Delacor asks how long this will take tell him I don't know, but it is akin to a request from the Lords of Sol."

She exited the overseer room, heading down a gently sloping ramp to the commander's chambers. Unlike many asari ships, the Stormwind's Spirit was almost militant in its lines, a carry-over of the time in which it was built, during the Second Refusal War. It lacked the elegant gallery and tiered sleeping areas of more modern ships for well-armored protection, and the chambers she stepped into were no exception.

She lived more aboard this ship than anywhere else, the walls festooned with mementos and knickknacks of her travels and battles. The curved walls were likewise decorated with pictures of herself and other famous Spectres – Bau, Saren, Ventrius, even one with Shepard.

Some of the décor wasn't purely asari – the floor was mostly covered by an elcor meditation grove-mat, and she'd replaced all her chairs with sinfully comfortable human ones. She sat down in the human-style swivel chair she'd gotten from Earth fifteen years prior, and steadied her features as she tapped the comm panel on her battered desk.

"Spectre Tela Vasir, codelock nine six thiana elthsiar eight."

The far wall slid apart, revealing a holo-projection screen, which flickered to life, displaying the ancient but still unlined features of the asari ruler. Thana's eyes were narrowed and her mouth had a cruel twist to the lips, neither of which made Tela feel any happier. The dress she wore, made from what had to be Thessia sea-silk, probably cost as much as Tela's entire wargear.

She forced a pleasant tone to her voice and a smile to her face and spoke. "Queen Matriarch, I have hastened to attend to your words. I apologize for the delay, the... human I am paired with in my Spectre duties is somewhat obstinate."

Thana gave a graceful nod. "Apologies are unneeded, and your cooperation is appreciated. I understand you are already heavily over-tasked, but I require your assistance with a... delicate situation that has arisen."

Tela nodded. Frankly, the fact the matriarch reached out to her instead of one her personal Spectres like Viatha T'Armal made her even more worried, but defiance was stupid. "I am yours to command."

The other asari gave a brief smile at that. "Pity your aunt and matriarch is not so agreeable. No matter. I recently came into... a source of delicate, sensitive information. For the moment, the details of who obtained it are irrelevant. The information received is firm confirmation that the Butcher, whoever she may be, is working directly with Cerberus, not merely associated with them."

Vasir kept the displeasure from showing on her face. "I can only presume this development has not been conveyed to the Citadel Council?"

Thana's thin smile widened. "You would be correct, Vasir. The source I am using is not one I am willing to reveal at this time. I may decide later on to release the information via other channels, but given the Council's lack of reaction so far I prefer more … direct action. My larger concern is that my source is very certain the Butcher is not Liara T'Soni – that she died on Omega. If that is the case, our working theories are simply wrong and must be discarded."

Tela nodded. "How do I fit into this?"

The matriarch made a sign of siari separation. "Normally I would take this information to my fellow Matriarchs, and then to the Citadel Council. However, I fear they might simply exacerbate the problem. Whoever this person is, they are a player in the Game – to simply try to remove them from the board is likely to end... poorly. And that does not even begin to cover the nightmare that is Jack Harper. Frankly, the human has more than once showed his skill is every bit the equal of the Thirty or the SIX. Thus, rather than blind reactions, I need to consider other options."

Tela held her tongue, wondering when Thana would say what she wanted.

The matriarch leaned forward. "You have a... somewhat close relationship with the human Admiral Ahern, yes? The one who stopped the krogan assassin from Aria from killing me? He remains in charge of this sanctioned AI that provided the correlation to T'Soni in the first place, does he not? The AI that was critical in providing guidance in countering the geth?"

Tela nodded, somewhat reluctantly. "Yes. After that incident with the krogan, and a few other mishaps, we have remained in contact and have worked together often. He is my primary source of insight into the human military, as he is one of its core architects. The AI is... very advanced, and is excellent at bringing together disparate pieces of information and producing results others may have missed."

Thana gave a satisfied looking smile. "Very good. Exactly what we need. Convey to him the following data points. First, we have confirmed that the Butcher is not Liara T'Soni, and it is extremely unlikely that any ardat-yakshi could have imitated her. Second, analysis of the sword styles used in the brief video segments we have indicate this person's bladework is not that of the styles used by the Thirty. It most closely resembles the styles used by the Starward Facing of Clan Hearthwatch. This person may have been trained by Trellani. If so, she has access to most if not all of the restricted biotic skills of a priestess."

Thana tapped a control out of sight of the image pickup. "Third, video images from Omega show the ship the Butcher travels on is a clear modification of Shepard's ship, the Normandy – and has the same name. Scans were inconclusive except in proving it has both the IES stealth system and what appears to be highly effective visual cloaking. Fourth, sensor and scanner readings confirmed that the AI known as Vigil is taking an active hand in helping the Butcher in her tasks, and by extension is working for Cerberus as well."

Vasir frowned. _Vigil? Well that should go over well... ugh._ Aloud, she merely nodded her head. "That is indeed quite alarming, Your Grace."

Thana tapped another control, then turned back to face the view-screen. "Yes. While I won't go into details, as they are not important, certain asari agents have now ascertained that the main thrust of Cerberus investment in the past two years was all directed towards bio-tech. It has taken a very long time to untangle the layers of holding and shell companies, but we are now fairly certain Cerberus bought out several companies working with brain enhancement and memory, cloning and cybernetics. And two somewhat well known doctors - Wilson and Ahankar, I've forwarded their files - were last seen around the time Cerberus went on this buying spree. I doubt you are familiar with them, but they are some of the human's most skilled medical professionals, and for them to simply vanish is unlikely."

Tela nodded, tapping a finger to accept the upload even as the matriarch's voice became harder. "Wilson was known for his work on reviving the human President Huerta from brief brain-death, and Ahankar carried out a series of research projects on advanced cybernetic integration with blueware."

Thana folded her hands together. "I am aware that Ahern is unlikely to want to waste the processing time of his chained AI on determining what this all could lead to, but that is my request. As it will no doubt require some time for you to execute, you can explain to Spectre Delacor that this is a request of the asari government. And, unless I am mistaken, he will soon be dispatched elsewhere by his own government."

Vasir nodded. "I see, Your Grace. Do I have permission to share this data with... other parties that might assist?"

Thana's eyes hardened ever so slightly. "I presume you mean the Shadow Broker? I am not fool enough to think the Broker does not already know much of this. If you wish to see what he knows to confirm, I do not mind if he is aware we know the same. However the information regarding whatever Ahern's AI comes up with should not be shared with anyone." The matriarch's expression became disdainful.

"It is very likely, based on statements and actions, that the Butcher – and now, Archangel – have some sort of antipathy towards the Broker. I have lived long enough to see six Brokers, and most of them die when they overreach their grasp – this one may be headed for the same grisly end as his predecessors. And I do not think having any links to the Broker - or worse, clear indications that he received intelligence from us - is either wise or conducive to long life."

Vasir didn't think it was likely that the Broker could be taken out - anyone who terrified even Tetrimus was something she never wanted to encounter - but it was hardly her place to say such to Matriarch T'Armal. "Your wishes are my guidance. I will depart immediately for the Citadel – my ship needs refit anyway. Once I have answers or at least possibilities from Tradius I will contact you again, Queen Matriarch."

Thana nodded. "One... final piece of advice. And a warning. The fact that Vigil is working with Cerberus means every method of communication except laser-tightbeam or those using one-time pad encryption like this call are vulnerable. If some form of violence is required against the Butcher, I would get rid of anything that could be hacked. Reports from Omega indicate that hundreds of mechs belonging to the mercenary gangs hunting the Archangel were hacked at once during the assault. If Vigil is that powerful, in the hands of Cerberus it could be devastating."

Tela nodded. "I understand. I will contact you with a new one-time pad array via bonded courier before we speak again."

Thana nodded and cut the connection, and Tela slumped back in her chair. After a moment, she tapped the comms panel on the simple flat black desk in front of her. "Chelae, inform the navapath to set course for the Citadel, maximum rated speed. And get me Delacor."

_And alcohol. In large quantities._

**O-TWCD-O**

At the same time Tela was being given her orders, Delacor was in a conversation with his nominal bosses, Councilor Udina and Admiral Mikhailovich. It wasn't a happy conversation, but then again, talking with the people in charge of him rarely was.

At least he wasn't taking his orders from Admiral Schulman any longer, but that was the only good thing that had happened in his career as a Spectre so far.

Delacor had once been excited to be a Spectre. He knew he'd been in the running when they picked Shepard, and when they'd tapped him to take the spot she once held he'd been overjoyed.

Now he was looking forward to the idea that he could possibly retire to get away from it all. The fights he'd gotten into were horrific, the knowledge he'd been exposed to disgusted him, and the fact that he had not died heroically like Shepard and Ross had somehow soured the public on his exploits, as if not dying was somehow gauche.

And that didn't even cover his irritation with the crew of the Kazan. At least he had an amiable relationship with Williams, the woman surprising him over the years. But Jiong never did bother to warm to him – although that, he mused, may have had to do with the fact that he'd warmed too much to Shepard, and still blamed himself for her death.

It always came back to Shepard. The propaganda machine of the SA had turned her into a near Saint, with actual sainthood being discussed by the Pope. The whitewashing of her name and past insulted Delacor, not only because it ignored what she'd been, but it ignored the fact that she had changed herself towards the end of her life.

He didn't hate her. He was, even now, still impressed at the turnaround she'd pulled in her life, and having investigated her death had left him with a grim appreciation that she at least knew how to die well, unlike certain glory hounding idiots he could name. The problem he had was that people kept comparing him to Shepard, and he would always end up being second place to the dead.

The fact that his bosses were fairly disdainful of his own efforts to measure up didn't help things any. They delighted in sending him on wild goose chases, like going after the Butcher, and now had another one for him. He folded his arms across his chest and stared hard at the images on the view screen in his ready room. "With all due respect, sirs, this sounds like... a less than optimal use of resources."

Donnel Udina, dressed in a black drape-coat and a slate gray tie, gave a sardonic smirk. "Once again, you have an excellent grasp of the obvious. In terms of military usage, I agree."

But before Delacor could speak, Udina's smirk widened. "But this is politics, not military, Captain. The current wishes of the Addison Administration is to leave all of the wildcats out in the cold. Despite the fact that we now know the attacks aren't pirates, there's no way to convince that moron Branson to cut loose even a scout picket for any of them."

Mikhailovich gave a sour nod of disgust. "Since the fuckwits in charge have us tied up, we need a way to keep an eye on the independents without... formally admitting such. There are only three wildcat worlds worth spit – Neo Tokyo, Horizon, and Noveria. The rest are either too small to care about, too far out for us to do much more than make angry faces at them, and frankly, politically distasteful."

The admiral leaned back in his chair. "Now, Noveria is technically within Council Space, and its defenses are stronger than ever. That doesn't even take into account the colony is highly distributed and buried underground in many places – it would take a long time to raid it. Neo Tokyo is full of those 'banshi' nutjobs, and if anyone wants to go and kidnap people who think dying in battle is the only way to go, they're welcome to it."

Delacor nodded. "Whereas Horizon is wealthy, home to millions, and has very light defenses because it was reliant on Freedom's Progress for that. Alright, I can see that much. Since I somehow doubt common sense has erupted and Horizon has decided to join the SA, I can only assume your statement that this is political means some other group is involved. So... what's the plan?"

Udina smiled thinly. "The 'plan' is simple. A volus investment bank has decided to gamble on Horizon as being the most likely to agree to join the Vol Protectorate. As a result, they don't wish the planet to fall. The VDF is sending four transports to Horizon – carrying GARDIAN defense systems, orbital x-ray burst emitters, and rapid-fire GTS trucks."

Udina's expression became stern. "Thanks to scandals at home, Addison is distracted from the situation on the border, and Richard Manswell is busy with the election campaign. No one is really watching the situation. And while we can't send any official Alliance forces... your battle group could be dispatched there to 'oversee' the preparations, if we call this a Spectre operation."

Mikhailovich rubbed his nose. "Don't get us wrong : I'd much rather the idiots on Horizon agree to join the SA. But that's not going to happen. Failing that, I'd prefer not having more humans dragged off by giant bugs to God knows where. It's going to take a long time to get the defense set up, especially since they don't have any specialists to help. If you're there, then we're hoping maybe the Collectors – or whoever is behind this mess – will hit another less defended world. And once the defenses are set up they should be able to handle themselves."

Delacor sighed. "Freedoms' Progress was pretty heavily defended, and those defenses didn't do a lick of good. And from what little we know about the Collectors, they are more advanced than us."

Udina nodded. "Which is another reason to send you – so you can brief the Horizon Chamber on what you saw on Freedom's Progress, and what we know about the threat. As for the effectiveness of the defenses, from what we gathered Freedom's Progress relied mostly on VI's and mechs for the first line of defense, and those were hacked. The systems the volus are sending are manually operated, hard-link connection systems that can't be hacked externally."

The counselor gave a wintry smile. "And while the Collectors are probably more advanced, the Kazan has an awesome amount of killing power with the six remaining Kyle-class torpedoes you have, enough to hopefully make them hesitate."

Delacor gave a sour, reluctant nod. "And what about the whole thing with the Butcher? Do I stop trying to find leads?"

Mikhailovich rolled his eyes. "After the stunt she pulled on Omega getting that spike out of there, son, I'm starting to think you don't have much chance in finding her. And if you did find her ...frankly, the bitch killed Okeer in single combat. Both you and Vasir would be a light snack even if she was running alone, and now she's hooked up with this Archangel lunatic."

He adjusted his dress top. "The issue isn't dropped...but for the moment let's put finding the Butcher on hold. We're still gathering data and intelligence on her anyway, and for the moment the Horizon issue is more important."

Delacor could not help but arch an eyebrow. "Sirs, while I understand the reasoning behind warning the Horizoners, and even providing assistance, why is this so important? And why now? I don't want humans to be abducted either, but we've pretty much confirmed if it is the Collectors there isn't jack-all we can do about it. For that matter, why isn't the VDF sending protection of its own?"

Mikhailovich rolled his eyes. "The VDF is still pretty small in terms of numbers - it's expanding, but slowly, and all of it is currently tasked beyond capacity with protecting volus shipping or Council requests. They're putting together a force, but it's expected to be two to three months until it's ready. There's also some political maneuvering involved, as I understand it, between the Horizoners and the volus, as to status and remuneration, which is causing further delays. As for the rest..." He gestured to Udina.

Udina's usual sour expression puckered further. "There may have been a suggestion made by the Vol Court of Corporations to certain... parties inside the Alliance... that our assistance in this matter would be greatly reciprocated in a financial aspect. The SA Corporate Court also has certain interests on Horizon that they don't want threatened, although they've declined to outline exactly what those consist of."

Delacor's eyebrow arched higher. "And the Council has signed off on this … side trip?"

Udina sighed. "In return for additional AIS assets in tracing the Butcher. And in any event, the Council's lack of any real action or even political statements concerning the Butcher is basically tacit agreement for you to act." Udina's expression altered. "In fact, the lack of a plan or policy aside from 'arrest her if you find her' is disturbing … and most probably means that they are relying on non-Council assets like the Deathwatch or STG to go after her."

Delacor nodded, and Udina continued. "Ultimately, however, there is a concern among Alliance Command that something needs to be done to prevent further attacks, since the Council has no way to control the chaos that would erupt it if were widely known that the colony disappearances are indeed being done by Collectors."

The admiral grimaced. "And if it does come out, all hell will break loose. We'd have to try a blockade around the relay, and given that it would mean moving a huge fleet to Aria's doorstep, Aria is unlikely to cooperate. That would be an ugly, long and drawn out war."

Udina folded his arms. "And as for 'why now', the salarians claim they have determined some sort of pattern to the attacks. Neo Tokyo and Noveria are very unlikely targets, while Horizon is the most likely candidate for the next attack."

Admiral Mikhailovich grunted. "In any event, your orders are simple: protect the VDF as they set up the defenses, present what you know to the Horizon Chamber, and protect the colony from any hostile attacks. When the VDF warships and vorcha troop complements finally show up, you and your battle group will get three weeks leave to make up for it."

Delacor nodded. "Understood, sirs. Anything else?"

Udina's eyes met his. "If you are attacked by Collectors, your highest priority is to confirm and then notify the Council. We have no hard data on their capabilities, but even with the Kyle torpedoes it is very likely they will have you outgunned. While we want Horizon defended, if you estimate the encounter is not survivable, retreat. The only thing worse than losing another wildcat colony would be losing our last Spectre."

Delacor winced. "I'm good at staying alive. I'll contact you again when I reach Horizon."

He clicked off, and tapped his comm panel. "Lieutenant Traynor, I'll need comms with Spectre Vasir's ship."

The English accent of the comm lieutenant came back almost apologetically. "Yes sir – she's actually been waiting three minutes to talk to you."

He frowned. "Transfer to my ready room, lieutenant. Thank you." He clicked off, then triggered the viewscreen, fixing his eyes on the face of his partner. "Vasir."

The asari woman nodded. "Delacor. Look, I've been pulled off the Butcher search by my government for... something political. I'll probably be out of contact for at least a month, as my ship also needs refit." She gave an exasperated heave. "Not that we've found much of anything..."

Delacor leaned back. "Intriguing. I've also just been handed a political waste of time – babysitting VDF ships headed to Horizon and guarding it until the VDF gets there in force. My Councilor basically told me the volus bribed us into doing it. After that my crew is being given three weeks of leave."

He ran his thumb against his fingertips, his voice musing. "I find the coincidental timing... odd."

Vasir appeared to be thinking, then shook her head. "You may be right. I get the impression from the... person who contacted me that they feel the Butcher is too dangerous to be poking with a stick. Then again, some of the intelligence I'm going to be working on is fairly recent." She shrugged. "I guess I'll see you in a few months. At least try not to get killed."

Delacor merely nodded back. For an alien, she wasn't bad, and definitely easier on the eyes than a turian."I'll do my best, Vasir. If you need backup, let me know." He clicked off, then sighed in weary acceptance before tapping the comm panel yet again. "Lieutenant Helmsley, lay in a course for Horizon."

**O-TWCD-O**

Tazzik grimaced as he came aboard the command dreadnought of the Shadow Broker, wiping water out of his eyes from the storm outside. He understood on a practical level why the Broker kept his ship on this storm-wracked hellhole of a planet, but it certainly made getting here a pain in the back.

It didn't help that the entire ship looked like a tomb and smelled faintly of burned metal, or that one could hear the occasional scream that echoed from the interrogation levels.

He walked through the narrow blackened steel corridors, and then took a lift to the lower levels of the ship. Emerging onto the restricted access deck, he walked past the automated defenses and heavy mechs to enter into the Broker's sanctum.

As always, the Broker was at his massive desk, eyes flickering over the galaxy of haptic screens set in an array to his right. The massive, fanged head swung slowly to face him as he entered. "Tazzik."

The salarian nodded. "Job's done, boss. Didn't get anywhere as much data as I would have liked, but we did verify a few things."

The Broker's bulk swung around in the chair to face him fully. "Scans of Archangel and the Butcher?"

Tazzik sighed. "Very long range only. The armor of the Butcher is shielded, and I could only verify that the Archangel is indeed turian, with some cyberware. I've confirmed that Zaeed Massani is working for them. No sign of Goto. I nabbed the Blue Suns video archive, thanks to Avrensis, and that has some interesting snippets."

The Broker tapped several controls on his desk. "Anything of note?"

Tazzik's features drew back into a grin. "Two, actually. Advance to two forty seven point nine."

The Broker's massive clawed fingers tapped at the desk controls, and a holoimager sprang into life, displaying a snapshot from the chase of Archangel. The battered airtruck's back doors were open, and a number of figures could be dimly glimpsed within.

Tazzik pointed at one segment. "I had that cleaned up – the two people behind the guys in heavy armor and Zaeed would appear to be Doctor Mordin Solus of the STG, and a convicted terrorist known only as Jack who was tapped in one of our biotic cults but got away."

The Broker leaned back. "...ah. The Cerberus experiment. The one with the strange biotics."

Tazzik nodded. "Rumor has it that Solus split from the STG – openly – and is rogue, now. It almost looks like this Butcher is putting together a team of some kind to me, boss. We don't have an ID on the krogan yet, or the asari."

The Broker gave a grumbling emission, his equivalent to a sigh. "And the other thing of interest?"

Tazzik folded his arms. "One hundred twenty five point two. Just after the Butcher comes out of the roof to save Archangel."

Video flickered, then stopped. The Butcher was still in mid-air, trailing biotic power and her warp sword alight with energy as it sliced into the heavy battle-suit below. Above her, near the ceiling, a glowing set of silvery orbs hovered.

The Broker hissed in alarm. "The VI discovered by Shepard on Ilos. It was not destroyed."

Tazzik nodded. "Looks like, boss. Avrensis was able to map some kind of funky distributed pulse or flux of electromagnetic dissonance when our gunships went down and again when the suits and mechs of the PMC's all went haywire, and I'm guessing this thing did it. It certainly explains how the fuck the Cerberus assholes have been one step ahead of us for the past two years."

The Broker considered this. "And Avrensis?"

Tazzik shrugged. "He thought he was secure where he was. Declined our offer, although he was open to selling us more data in the future. Pretty sure Aria had him whacked by now, he wasn't very careful about meeting with me. He was gambling on the warlords taking Aria out with the PMC's. That would have been a good gamble if not for the Butcher showing up."

The yahg folded his massive hands in front of him, his rumbling voice musing. "I believe it is probably time for us to act against these agents of Cerberus. While the bulk of our active units are on the rim, all of our financial and support infrastructure is still vulnerable, and we can't afford for any additional setbacks to the plan. And the military assets we have will be useless, both in securing our retreat or against the Reapers if things go poorly. The fact that Harper has access to Vigil means we are much more vulnerable than I originally expected."

Tazzik took out a cigar and trimmed the tip. "So... we go hunting?"

The Broker shook his head. "Not so much hunting as baiting a trap. Harper has clearly invested a great deal of resources into the Butcher... bringing her down should set him back and give us time to maneuver."

Tazzik nodded, tossing the cut tip away. "How to bring her to grips is the question, then. You have good bait?"

The yahg nodded. "Indeed I do. The Sisters of Vengeance are not dead. After triggering the fusion reactor explosion, someone brought down a transport with a sabotaged FTL plotter on top of your double on Ilium."

Tazzik whistled. "Read about that on the way back. It's a damned shame we can't get those girls to work for us. I'm kinda flattered."

The Broker shrugged massive shoulders. "Tetrimus feels their interference will only persist if they leave Ilium, and our chances to localize and destroy them will plummet if they are roaming. And that cannot be tolerated - the damage they have done so far would be nothing compared to if they managed to disrupt our Bekenstein or Vanthir nexus points. This opportunity cannot be allowed to pass - the chaos there has the system on lockdown and they will be unable to leave. He is going to hunt them and eliminate the threat. You will go as well... and we will let slip that you both are hunting them."

Tazzik frowned, before lighting the cigar. "Boss... that's your bait? How can you be sure the Butcher will show?"

The Broker's voice was cruel sounding now. "The Butcher reacted to save Archangel when he was pinned down. I expect, given the chance, for the Butcher to try to repeat the act if the Sisters of Vengeance are run to ground. And while the Butcher may be dangerous, I do not think she is capable of handling both you and Tetrimus at the same time."

Tazzik nodded. "She's got backup, too – Archangel, Zaeed. Going to be really messy."

The Broker tapped a control, dismissing the holoprojector. "Take as many men as you need to ensure your success. I want this done, quickly and efficiently." He looked across at Tazzik, his tone dropping. "If possible, capture the Sisters – I want to know who sponsored them." He gave a rumbling growl. "While the damage the Sisters have caused is mostly localized to Ilium itself, their meddling has cost the Network billions, left us vulnerable to STG and Cerberus activity and is making clients doubt our efficiency."

Tazzik nodded, puffing on the cigar. "Understood... guessing we're not looking to capture the Butcher or Archangel?"

The Broker turned back to his displays. "No. I prefer to keep the random variables to a minimum. Kill them."

**O-TWCD-O**

Liara stared tiredly at the news feed, before rubbing her good eye blearily and cutting it off. It had been an extremely long day, sifting through all the queries and interest in the recent 'terrorist' bombing of an entire fusion plant, followed not long after by a 'core malfunction' in a freighter that had crashed into the surface of the planet and wiped an entire town from the globe. Endless requests from anguished family members, hunting for survivors. Auditors and executors, legal teams and nineteen Spectres, all of them requiring more and more data, or analysis.

Irony writ itself large in the fact that the lack of truly high-end information brokers was mostly due to Liara and Telanya having killed most of them. Their profits had grown ever larger, to the point where they had two satellite offices staffed by clanless asari – completely firewalled from their own systems, of course, and in other cities besides the capital.

They even had more than a few real STG ops officers swing by to take advantage of their data connections, who wryly expressed their admiration in the Vantirus Sisters lying to the galaxy about working directly for the STG without being called on it. Of course, rumor saw these open visits as simple confirmation, while wiser minds assumed the link had been openly proven, removing the need for obviously secret visits that had somehow gone unrecorded.

The triumph of their cover, and the irony that they were rich, was not enough to remove the fact that every day dragged on longer, every night filled itself with terror and pain, and all that was left was killing a certain turian and his master.

A glance outside the windows of the Vantirus Information Systems office showed the sky cast into hues of purple and red-gold as the sun began to set, the lights of Ilium flaring into lines of purple and blue as the people wound down the work day and began to plan for their nights of entertainment and excess.

There was always excess on Ilium, and the more chaotic things became the more the excesses turned sickening. Behind the sealed doors and handsome bodyguards in some of the towering starscrapers would be parties of the most extreme carnality, drugs that seared the mind and 'indentured servants' put to vile purposes. More often than not, the unwilling participants in these events would be found on the streets in the morning, with a chemical mind-wipe and an idiot's expression.

A sigh of disgust broke her musing, as Telanya shut down her terminal and stood, stretching and arching her back. "Finished the final data manifests for the Vendbek Consortium. Money should clear in the morning. There's still an outstanding data arbitrage request from Cal Datha of the Vol Corporate Court, but it can wait."

Telanya's voice was as tired and worn as she felt, Liara thought, before standing herself and killing power to her terminal. "Very well. I suppose we might as well head home." She swallowed as she looked out the windows again, seeing the swarms of uncaring, blindly happy people move through the streets like oil on water.

Blind, foolish idiots.

It took five minutes to get to the groundcar they used, parked in a hard security zone just outside the building. As usual Telanya checked for bombs, traps and spy nano while Liara examined the surroundings for trailers or observers.

And as usual, they found nothing, and the drive home was without consequence and done in silence. Liara's own mind was going over the mess that had become their hunt for the Broker.

As she drove across the waterfront, she considered the situation. With the exception of low-level information brokers and a large number of soldiers, the Broker network on Ilium was smashed, and every attempt to restart it had been derailed. The accompanying chaos this had brought about had allowed the Thirty to enter into the situation, and now the conditions on Ilium were a whirlwind.

The Broker had not taken it lightly, and the number of wet-teams trying to end them had numbered in the dozens, but they all made two critical errors. The most important, of course, was that while orders for such hits were above their clearance on the Broker's Link network, they had breached it repeatedly using stolen credentials from their kills, eventually building their own dedicated back door. Every hit was known to them before they even arrived, making killing them little more than a slightly dangerous chore.

It wasn't that the Broker's assassins weren't good. But hunters did poorly when they unexpectedly became the hunted. Moreover, they were arrogant, assuming in what Shepard would have dismissed as being in love with their own badassery. And that was their second lethal mistake - they assumed they had the upper hand when in fact they did not.

Ahern's lessons in going for the quick kill had come in very handy. They never bothered to taunt their victims, killing them with any and every method that worked, often combined in complete overkill. If innocents got caught up in the crossfire...that was the sad and ugly price of doing business.

Any innocence Liara had, or any sense of lawful justice once possessed by Telanya, was buried under oceans of blood and an increasing lack of concern as their own mental states slowly crumbled.

Eventually, the Broker had stopped sending such teams. There were weak thrusts at establishing low level contacts that Liara permitted, but anything more than that was ruthlessly extinguished. It had an effect, in how people viewed the Broker. The myth of shadowy invincibility was broken. It was spreading beyond Ilium, even, and the effect would only get worse the longer the Broker was unable to bring them down.

Tetrimus' long planned trip to Ilium seemed as if it was never going to occur, and they had actually been making preparations to leave the planet when the reactor explosion happened. The detonation had destroyed the entirety of the Reclaimed Sisterhood, a group of lapsed siari practitioners who dedicated themselves to improving conditions for the poor and indentured on Ilium. Many of the corporations hated them for their meddling and legal trickery, and at first Liara had assumed the strike was done by one of them.

The next day requests had shown up on the Broker's Link asking if any activity of the Sisters of Vengeance was seen to report it, as the explosion was intended to take them out based on the intelligence they had. Liara was horrified that so many people would be killed just trying to get at them, while Telanya had pointed out that, if the Broker assumed they were dead, then this was the best time to leave and continue the hunt elsewhere.

And they would have, if not for the sighting of Tazzik they had. Liara knew that Tazzik suddenly exposing himself had to be a trap, but this was the only chance they had at directly finding out anything regarding the Broker. If Tazzik himself were slain, the Broker could not let that challenge go unanswered – Tetrimus himself would be forced to come.

With that in mind Liara had obtained, through back channel mercenaries and at exorbitant cost, a black nanoware conversion matrix. Loaded into a super heavy sniper round, the sludge would eat into and deactivate most conventional cyberware. Combined with two EMP bombs and their biotics, Liara and Telanya were confident they could capture Tazzik, or if that failed, kill him and draw out the Dagger.

The plan went flawlessly, until the point where they did a preliminary scan of the target. Somehow, that had alerted the Broker's forces, and the ambush erupted into a sprawling firefight. Outnumbered ten to one, they'd been forced to fall back after failing to hit Tazzik with the cybernetic kill agent.

Unwilling to let the target get away, Liara had triggered the engines on the small ship they'd purchased to eventually leave on. She'd long ago hacked the FTL systems and plotter to re-target on her command if things got out of control, and she overrode the safeties and smashed the ship into the fortified estate of Tazzik, killing him and smashing the last known Broker base on Ilium.

She tried, as she drove, not to think about the casualties. About the indentured servants, or the innocents, killed in such an act. She told herself that the Broker's actions were threatening tens of billions of lives.

Math did not make the pain or the self-recrimination go away. Logic didn't fix the fact that she felt _dirty_. She flinched as her vision flickered, and shook her head to clear it.

She wasn't driven to such desperate acts out of mere hate. She sincerely did not think she could keep functioning much longer. Her own mental state was deteriorating by the day, and Telanya wasn't much better. Even the powerful drugs the latter used to try to sleep had failed weeks ago to keep her own nightmares away, and now both of them were trembling from exhaustion and mental stress.

Sleep was almost impossible except in short, terror-wracked snatches. Liara had suffered hallucinations, and her emotions were a roller coaster. Trembling and uncontrolled bouts of flaring meant her biotics were also affected. Their appetites vanished, everything tasting bland and often coming back up when waves of nausea hit her. They were losing their edge, their combat ability, even their sanity.

This had to end, if only so she could die as herself and not insane.

As they entered the parking lot of the apartment complex, and transitioned into the inner hidden living area, Liara's mind picked over the bits of information she'd obtained today. She let herself sit almost bonelessly on the couch in the main room, watching dully as Telanya poured a stiff drink and downed the entire glass in a pair of gulps, grimacing afterwards.

"...How much longer before we go totally crazy, do you think, Lady Liara?"

Liara gave a hollow laugh, motioning for the bottle. Tel crossed the room to sit next to her, handing the bottle over, and Liara poured herself a glass. "I don't know that we already have not, Tel. The nightmares and … waking hallucinations are hardly hallmarks of a stable mind. I'm sure that some would say killing Tazzik with a freighter was... unacceptable."

She drank, the fiery salarian brandy Tel favored sending warmth through her body, dulling her pain if by only a bit. "We won't need to hold out much longer, though."

Telanya nodded, leaning her head back. "...It's funny. I didn't become a cop because I cared much about the law, or about protecting people. I did it because I was good at finding patterns, because I was running from an ardat-yakshi, because I wanted safety for myself." She gazed at her hand. "And now, I've become something I can't even recognize. Murder is... just a word, instead the outrage I should see it as. I have... no idea of how I can go back to what I used to be. I can't even really remember what that felt like any more."

Liara closed her eye. 'We are far from any shore we recognize now. Trying to swim back to the familiar against the tide... is beyond us now."

Telanya's bitter smile flickered. "And when it's done? I... can't live this way, Lady Liara. Every day just... hurts more. I'm not getting over it."

Liara's laugh was discordant and broken and sad. "And I'm doing any better?" She placed her real hand on the shoulder of her friend. "There are times I already feel... dead. Reliving Sara's death every night has... shattered whatever hopes I had of living past this. And it is not likely we will... succeed in actually killing the Broker."

Liara's eye narrowed. "If in death I can cripple or kill him, I will..." She paused as the comm light on the information panel on the wall lit up.

Telanya groaned and stood up, walking over and tapping the console. She stared at the message for a few seconds, then gave a weary, almost rattling exhalation of breath. "...It's for you, Lady Liara."

Liara frowned, forcing her exhausted frame to stand, and walked over to the panel. The message flashing on the screen was a real-time comms request... from her aithntar. Both relief and worry flashed through her numb mind as she stared at it a moment.

Shaking herself back to action, she tapped the message, and the haptic screen illuminated. Her father's features were much the same as always, although there was a sadness in her eyes Liara did not remember. She took in the faces of Liara and Tel and grimaced.

"You two look like boiled shit."

Liara found a faint smile, the first in weeks, cross her features. "I love you too. Aria has not contacted us in several weeks, I was beginning to worry."

Aethyta nodded. "You probably heard about the Archangel and the Butcher. Things have been ugly, but for now they're good. Aria let me go, after restoring my spine with some cybernetics that I'll have to get cut out at some point. I'm headed to check on Telanya's mother before delivering a message to the Council of Matriarchs, then I'll be on my way to you two to get you out of there."

Liara was happy her father was free of Aria's control, but frowned at the last part. "Why would you come here?"

The matriarch gave her a sad look, and her voice was filled with regret. "Because you two are killing yourselves, and you've done enough. The Broker network there is in shambles, and that fleet of asari warships in orbit is about to put the planet into a hard blockade. Once that happens getting you out of there will be almost impossible."

Telanya gave a small bow. "Lady Aethyta, I thank you for going to make sure my mother is well. I've moved what wealth I could into an account she can access, I am transmitting the numbers now. But as for... removing us from the scene, there is little point. The Broker's Link is full of the news – Tetrimus is coming to Ilium, at long last."

Liara nodded. "It is time to _end_ this."

Aethyta shook her head. "And you think I'll let you go against that fuck alone? I still owe him for breaking my spine, gutless spike bastard." She grimaced. "The condition you two are in, you won't stand a chance."

Liara felt herself grow angry. "We've destroyed everything in our path! Had to lie, murder, kill! Blow up innocent people. Children. Elders. I can't even sleep without my nightmares ripping me open. I can't look in a mirror without hallucinations, can't eat without feeling sick to my stomach!"

She clenched her fists. "You can't save me, not from this. Tetrimus dies, and I don't care what it costs me." She gave a bitter little laugh. "I have nothing left to lose, so it can't cost me anything but my life."

Aethyta sighed. "...And that, my daughter, is exactly why you need me there." She looked up. "This has broken you. Both of you. You're not in any kind of shape to fight Tetrimus, no matter how goddamned angry you are. I don't doubt you've gotten stronger... but you've both turned into people I barely recognize. You let your need for revenge overpower everything else, and now there's nothing left in the tank but that."

Telanya's voice was tight and angry. "Perhaps that is all we have left to give."

Aethyta nodded. "Maybe so. But I'm old enough and tired enough that I don't mind dying... and if you two are determined to do this, you'll need me to keep the bastard off of you long enough to kill him. He's not going to show up alone, you know, and this is almost definitely a trap."

She paused. "Do you two even have a plan?"

Liara grimaced. "We need to beat him and rip the location of the Broker from his mind, then kill him. We... we have several possible plans, and a lot of anti-biotic gear."

Telanya spoke up. "We also know it's a trap, Lady Aethyta. Our element of surprise is that we have convinced the STG to sell us various devices that will nullify a great deal of his biotic powers. Without those he's just an old, crippled turian."

Aethyta sourly nodded. "And you two know how to do a mind rip, I suppose?"

Liara's expression faltered. "I have... studied the concepts."

The matriarch snorted. "Yeah, that's a no. Look, kiddo. You can't stop me from wanting to come protect my own daughter. I'll message you when I get to Ilium – be a few days. If you don't decide to pick me up I'm going after Tetrimus on my own and probably get killed."

Liara scowled. "That's..." She trailed off. "_Why_, aithntar? Why do this?"

Aethyta's voice was slow and sad. "I don't have much more reason to go on myself. When you and Sara were alive, I could tell myself I had a purpose in life. That I could see you happy and safe, watch my grandchildren grow. Die in a century or two in peace and knowing that, given all that I had fucked up, at least I'd gotten one thing right."

Her eyes met Liara's. "That's gone now. And if you're determined to do this, and I can't stop you, then at least I can be there at the end and make sure it is successful. I'm not stupid enough to try to tell you to that life past revenge is possible. I know... what you're feeling."

"But don't tell me I can't be there for my daughter at least _once_ in my miserable fucking life."

Liara swallowed. "I understand."

Aethyta nodded. "I love you, little wing. We'll figure out how to pull this off when I get there. Not before."

Telanya gave a weary sigh. "And if our hand is forced before then?"

Aethyta shrugged. "Do your best to stay alive. Or do what you have to do. But don't rush into it when it will only end up in failure. Given all you've gone through, wouldn't you rather succeed?"

The matriarch straightened. "I've got to go. Ships getting ready to jump. I'll contact you after I'm done with the Matriarchs and I'm on my way to you." She paused. "I'm sorry things... didn't end up better. But consuming yourselves in revenge won't bring them back."

Liara gave her a faint, almost trembling smile, dredged up from somewhere. "She lives inside me, still. She doesn't want me to do this, either. But... they have to pay."

Telanya's voice was dull with pain and rage. "No matter how far into the depths we have sunk… the Broker killed hundreds of thousands just on a trap to kill us, and will kill billions if we don't change how the Council views the Reaper threat, Lady Aethyta." She gave a broken little laugh. "Garrus would certainly approve of dying for the cause when it was a... cause worth dying for."

Aethyta's face twisted in misery as she killed the connection on her end. As the small ship she was on was snatched by the mass relay, she wondered bitterly how she could have ever thought the life she led would end well, or as anything but a misery-driven bloodbath of revenge and hate.

She had to give Aria credit... her revenge for her unborn child was certain much colder and more painful than anything Aethyta could have imagined.

**O-TWCD-O**

The bulk of Garrus' people were still in medical, having lesser grade cyberware replaced by top of the line models. Krul's condition was stable and regeneration was going normally, and Mierin was in surgical prep for forced regeneration of her hand.

Garrus himself had a bandage over his eye, in prep for having the low-quality cybernetic eye he'd had put in on Omega replaced.

As he leaned back on the leather sectional couch in Shepard's private quarters, sipping on turian brandy, wearing fresh clothes for the first time in weeks, he wondered at the heavy black warp sword hanging on hooks near the middle of the far wall. For all he knew about Shepard, what she had become was still a mystery to him. Shepard, much like Tali and Joker, was colder than he remembered. Pressly was much the same way. There was a certain level of something he couldn't quite get his talons around – not quite despair, not quite fury.

It wasn't everyone that was affected. Meandering about the base the day before, he'd seen the famous thief Kasumi Goto interacting in a playful manner with the big black human soldier over drinks. He'd seen some of Shepard's marines that he recognized gathered around the form of Angel and Zaeed as they shared war stories, and had even listened with fascination as the giant krogan asked Miranda questions about a list of books he'd been given to read.

It was something off in just a few people, but it worried him nonetheless. He sipped again at the brandy, then looked up as Shepard came back through the door, carrying an entire bottle of scotch for herself.

"Comfy?" Her voice was very slightly amused as she set the bottle down on the table.

Garrus flicked a mandible, his voice dry. "I suppose this room will do, although we'll have to replace the bed with a turian hammock. It's not like you're going to enjoy it, after all."

She rolled her eyes and opened the scotch, pouring herself a glass. "I hate all the extra comfort... but goddamn, that mattress is just illegally comfortable. Some kind of mass effect supported air cushion thing." She sipped at the scotch and shook her head. "Not sure why a cyborg needs a comfy mattress..."

Garrus watched her closely as she sat down. There was an eerie, almost unnatural smoothness to every single motion she made. It was almost hypnotic to watch the complex interplay of muscles below the skin on her exposed arms.

He stared down into his glass of turian brandy, taking another sip. "It's really difficult to see you as a cyborg. I can only barely hear and smell it and I certainly can't fucking see it."

She laughed, a soft and ironic noise. "Behold the endless march of technology." She sipped at the drink again before picking up her pack of cigarettes and lighting one, inhaling deeply before looking up at the turian and raising both eyebrows.

"Had some time to think about what to do, Garrus?"

He nodded, setting his own drink down. "I... have. It isn't an easy answer." He saw the barest flicker of hurt in her expression and held up his hand. "Calm down. I'm with you. I just have some concerns."

He faced her squarely. "Cerberus is not the worst of those problems, honestly. Whatever they're up to, they have to know that having you on board to make Cerberus look good will only work if they actually do have somewhat clean hands. I get why you don't trust the vakars – I don't either."

He shrugged. "But my main concern is the people you're surrounding yourself with."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Garrus sighed. "You once told me that... vengeance is satisfying. Doing things the quick way is satisfying. But eventually you lose sight of things and end up lost." He looked down at the decking. "It happened to me, on Omega. I got sloppy with a plan and ended up blowing up an entire apartment complex. Sixty-eight people died. Fourteen children."

He closed his good eye. "I researched the names, and etched them into my battle-suit. So I wouldn't... forget."

She nodded, slowly. "And..."

He opened his eye. "And you're going after the Broker, and the Collectors. The stakes are high, I get that. But..." He trailed off. "Kasumi Goto and her partner Ghost-Step ended up killing dozens of innocent people for money. They blew up a spirits-damned passenger liner to steal some kind of expensive salarian artwork. Zaeed Massani blew up a turian cruiser while he was working for the Taetrus Collective and no matter how many 'good' ops he's been on he's also had his hands in smuggling, slavery and worse. This Matriarch Trellani is a horrific terrorist responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocents."

He exhaled. "And now you tell me our next pickup is the Sisters of Vengeance? Who've blown up entire city blocks to get at targets and just crashed a fucking freighter into a planetary surface?" He shook his head. "The Shepard I remember wouldn't have tolerated these people even _living_."

Shepard looked at him a long moment before she gave a weary smile and drained her glass. "You're right. I wouldn't have. I'm not fool enough to think Massani's hands are clean, or that silly girl act of Goto's doesn't cover up a cold-blooded killer. I'm pretty sure Mordin Solus had to do something pretty vile before he decided he couldn't handle being in the STG, and it's quite possible even Jack did more than a few criminal acts."

She leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes briefly before clucking her tongue irritably. "In the end, Garrus, the bad guy isn't Cerberus. It's not the fucking Collectors. It's not the bullshit my government or anyone else's pulls. It's the Reapers. They're not going to care, when they show up, about right or wrong. They're going to wipe us the fuck out if we can't figure out to stop them - and right now we have jack all nothing to show."

She took another puff of her cigarette, grey smoke wreathing her features as she leaned forward. "But more than that, Garrus, I didn't pick out these people to work with. The Illusive Man did. The people I picked out to work with are my marines, and Pressly. Would I have chosen different people had I been given the chance to do so? Maybe."

Her voice became almost tired sounding. "But I don't look at it like that. This is most likely a suicide run, Garrus. Even if we drop the Broker, taking down the Collectors involves boarding one of their ships and heading into the Omega-4 Relay. We may not even have a way to get back, and we may have to blow up the ship or crash it into whatever we find to stop them."

She gave another weary smile. "So yeah. I'm working with people whose hands aren't clean. Neither are mine. Umlor had a lot of people living there. They were all supporting slavery. They were all benefiting from it. But not all of them were slavers. There were probably innocents. I didn't give a shit."

He swallowed as her eyes got harder and a note of pain entered her voice. "I've lost it all, Garrus. Everything I had that made me feel human is fucking gone, and I'll never get it back. I'm a goddamned zombie-robot and even if I pull this off, even if we somehow fucking win this, everything I've had faith and believed in is a sick fucking lie. I learned shit in the past week that makes me almost sorry the turians didn't wipe us out in the First Contact War."

She exhaled, and let her head droop, hair falling down around her face. "I'm not the same as I was. I don't have anything to hope for."

Garrus was silent for long seconds. When he spoke, his voice was soft and musing. "In the first days I was operating on Omega, I felt empty. Tel was gone. My family thought I was dead. You were dead. The people who saved me had no intention of going after the Broker, or even helping me do it myself."

"They were busy protecting the people of Omega from being abused. With nothing else to do and needing to justify the money and time they spent on saving me, I helped out. The very first time I did I ran into a pack of batarians. Meat-catchers, they called them. They rounded up the poor and cut them up, for the 'elite' of Omega who liked eating other sentient beings."

His voice took on a very slight tremble. "There were six of them, and they'd cornered a little turian girl and her father. The father was beaten senseless, bleeding into the alley, mandible torn off and jammed into his own eye. The girl was against the wall maybe six or seven."

Garrus lifted his head. "I barely remember what happened, except when I was done there were six dead pieces of tork-shit on the ground and a little girl staring at me. I patched up her father, and called Angel to help me get them out of there."

The turian looked at his hands. "She asked me if I was some kind of spirit, and I said no. Just another turian like her. Her father shook his head and said I wasn't like them. I wasn't weak. I hadn't surrendered to the darkness that was Omega."

Garrus looked Shepard in the eye. "I told him that all it took to push back the darkness was a single spark of light. That as long as you refused to give in, no matter how much that hurt, no matter how much it cost, that darkness _couldn't_ win."

He exhaled shakily. "I had to be reminded of that by my own team. But you know what? Do you know who I was thinking of when I said those words? _You_."

Shepard's face was immobile, but he pressed on anyway. "I remember Liara saying how bad you'd had it growing up, and how horrible it must have been. I remember the shit the Council flung at you, and your own government. How no one had any spirits damned faith in you, even when you'd beaten Cerberus and Saren. And yet you never let that stop you, or even slow you down. You were that light."

He looked away from her, finishing his brandy. "And I remember your funeral. Listening to that priest. Listening to people grieve and cry because the light that was who you were flickered and died."

"I'm still a pretty bad turian, Sara. The turian part of me should be pragmatic about this whole thing. Like you said, it's a one way trip. The Collectors aren't going to care about criminal records. But just because we've lost everything does not mean we have to give up everything we are. Or were."

Shepard was silent for a long time, before taking a final pull on her cigarette and stubbing it out. "You haven't changed at all." There was a faint smile on her face, as she stood up. "Maybe you're right. But to me I see something else. Goto lost her fiance, then the woman who raised and taught her, just like I have. Zaeed is tormented by the mistakes he made with the Blue Suns and has nothing else to live for but to die in one last impossible mission, chasing death just like I used to. Trellani is crazy as all fuck, but she went through shit even worse than you and I did – they tortured her bondmate to death, and killed her entire family after making them think she was responsible for their deaths."

Shepard shook her head. "I was a murdering, drug-dealing ganger piece of shit too, before I changed myself. Maybe I'm a fool for thinking Jack can be like me, or that a part of Harper wishes he wasn't the way he was. Maybe I'm too focused on killing Tetrimus and just getting on with this mission, dying again to save people who don't even care."

She looked at him. "But if I'm not, and if I'm going on the wrong paths, you'll be there to tell me when I need to change. I don't think I can find that little spark of light you're talking about."

She walked over the bottle of scotch and poured another. "But I'll do whatever needs to be done to make sure other people get a chance to see it." She drank, wiping her mouth and smiling. "Make sense?"

Garrus shrugged. "Nothing makes much sense any more, Sheep." He turned to pour himself another drink. "Sorry if I was out of line–"

Shepard snorted. "Garrus, you're never out of line with me. I'd have died if you and Tel hadn't held that line on the Citadel." She shrugged, and sat back down. "And maybe I needed to hear that, too. I've been telling myself the Sisters of Vengeance are like me - like you, now that I know who you are."

She turned away, staring out the large armaglass window into the deep darkness of space. "But that bullshit with the freighter is a touch extreme. I said as much to Harper. I'm willing to bend to get the job done, something I was too stupid to do before."

Garrus frowned. "Too stupid?"

She gave a hollow, sad laugh. "Harper showed up at my wedding. Secretly. Told me and Liara that he wanted to work with us, that people were plotting to kill us. He stopped that assassination but said they'd get me sooner or later, and President Windsor too."

She drank. "If-" She broke off in a near sob, "If I had listened to TIM then, swallowed my self-righteous bullshit pride and hatred and actually bothered to listen, would this have happened?" Her voice trembled. "Would Liara be dead? Tel? Would Tali be messed up?"

Garrus shook his head. "Angel once told me that 'what if' are the deadliest and stupidest words in any language. And I happen to agree. Beating yourself up over things in the past won't make the future any brighter or better." He sighed. "And everything is in shades of gray. I don't know what to do with those."

Shepard smiled faintly. "Yes you do. Pick the brightest shade and do your best to make it brighter. Solus told me that."

Garrus drank again. "Yeah, well, he's also crazy. But point taken." He flicked a mandible. They drank in silence, lost in their own thoughts, until Garrus' breathing slowed and he slumped down further on the leather sectional.

Shepard shook her head and easily picked up the bigger turian, laying him out on her own bed. She stepped out of her quarters and tapped her omni-tool. "Doctor Sedanya, Garrus is passed out drunk in my quarters. Should I bring him to medical or is he stable enough to sleep it off?"

Sedanya gave a sigh. "Given his nutritional condition and the amount of damage he took, I would feel more comfortable if he was in medical but he should be fine." She paused. "We'll prep him for his surgery in the morning, make sure he gets up by 0800."

Shepard nodded. "Not like I'm going to get any sleep tonight anyway. I'll have him there on time."

Sedanya's voice took on an impish note. "And should any of his team come looking for him, shall I tell them you are sleeping together?"

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Don't, Kelly might get jealous."


	32. Arc II : Vengeful Iron Sunset

_**A/N**:_

_Operation No, Fuck You is now a go!  
_

_As usual, t__hanks to the Editing Gang for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes. They deserve more credit than I do.  
_

**Broken **_by Sirrocco just updated again! Check it out.  
_

* * *

_'A common belief is that history is written by the victors. It is, like many so-called words of wisdom, a comforting lie wrapped in a lack of discernment. You will find if you examine most conflicts that such self-delusional views of reality is why governments make the same mistakes over and over again. Asari, turian, salarian, volus - hubris is the weakness we all share, that moment of ignoring what one has overcome in favor of empty self-congratulation. '  
_

_\- Benezia T'Soni, 'No Single Raindrop Blames Itself For the Flood'_

* * *

Vnad Ishan looked upon the Forge, and placed his forelimbs together as he considered the current state of the Work. The ancient station shuddered as massive machines continued their endless labors. The station had many owners over the eons, all of which had eventually failed their masters - the original builders had called it the Tomorrowing House. Other curator thralls of the Ascended had called it the Unseen Tide, the Forgotten Forge, and a host of other names.

The station was now called the Silent Hive, as it teemed with masses of the Sethani, those who were once Prothean, once alive, once masters of the galaxy, and now existed somewhere between eternal slavery and genetic extinction.

The vast and cavernous structure in the middle of the Silent Hive was, in essence, a factory for the creation of Ascended war-forms. Huge arrays of flesh and metal wrapped around titanic sections of plating, while masses of the Lifeblood - the genetically recombined remains of tens of thousands of humans - circulated through sections still being assembled.

Biomechanical forges drew on streams of endless power from the massive black hole at the center of the galaxy, converting matter to energy and generating the black metal that was the carapace of all such war-forms. The material was not so much made as extruded, black smoke foaming up into strange angles and then suddenly materializing into position, slowly cooling from their creation.

Articulated arms half a kilometer long, supported by organic gantries of undying flesh and riddled with technological implants, that even Ishan could not fathom, worked tirelessly, laying out the central systems of the future Lord. Three huge cylinders that would form the backbone of the FarJump device were in the final stages of assembly, and the weapons - a single cannon for each out-thrust tentacle, and a vast chamber of iron slurry - were already constructed and awaiting implantation.

In the aspect of physical construction, the Work was ahead of schedule. But an Ascended - what the lesser races called a Reaper - was much more than mere metal. And the Forge was more than an assembly line.

In the upper parts of the Forge was the Crèche, where the mind of the future Ascended was assembled. Of the many human captives they had taken for Ascension, just over thirty thousand had been of sufficient purity for conversion into Lifeblood, but less than five thousand had the proper mental resilience and stamina to survive the Breaking. Rows of them were laid before him now, each one carefully prepared and inserted into the machine network that hung above them, a thousand gossamer strands of glistening flesh and cold metal sunk into each form. They would occasionally twitch or scream, and a few had flung themselves about to the point where bloody wounds from torn-free probes marked their skin.

Resistance was pointless, as even more sharp-tipped rods punched into their flesh to hold them still.

The Collector General walked between a row of such fortunate souls. The tops of each human skull had been carefully sheared away, exposing the brain matter, which was linked with probes and implants to bring about the first iteration of the overmind. The bodies were of less use – arms and legs had been trimmed off and sealed, and nourishment was imparted via tubes, now firmly inserted into the torso of each human. A horde of specialist Servility Devices buzzed endlessly above, tweaking chemical ratios and nutrient feeds, while other Collectors administered the data programs forced into the human brains even now.

An Ascended was no mere robot, but a vast cybernetic organism that blurred the lines between the weakness of flesh and the inflexibility of metal. The overmind of each such host was a gestalt of the race it was made from, but this gestalt could not be simply inserted as it was. The minds that comprised it had to be conditioned.

Thus, the assorted humans were being forced to deal with many things. They were being exposed to the reality of the dimensions, even as careful surgical and chemical changes to their brains were made to allow them to comprehend what they saw. Information was shoved into their fragile cortices, tens of millions of years of Ascended mindsets and thinking, washing away any frail mortality. For each second that passed in real time, those chosen for Ascendance were exposed to a year of such thinking.

The lines of mutilated, blessed humans ran inward, like the spokes of a wheel, to the Plinth. There, the keystone mind was being worked upon. The curved arms of the Core, which would be the brain of the future Lord, were partially assembled, vast computer networks linked with hyperluminal shunts and kilometers of organic circuitry. Built using simple amino acids and nanotechnology, these smart networks connected all the humans to the keystone, the mind that was deemed the strongest and most dominant and would serve as the baseline for the Lord's intellect.

The ravaged body of George Logain, once the leader of Freedom's Progress, writhed in agony in the cushioned Serenity Pod. Pale golden conductive fluids bathed the majority of his form, with only his head above the bubbling fluid, which was shot through with streaks of red tainting it. Row upon row of implanted sensors pierced his body. Heavy black cables were crammed into his spinal column, plunging his nervous system directly into the interconnected world of the Ascended. The eyes of the human were gone, removed to allow probes direct access to the visual cortex, but the mouth was contorted into a silent scream showing blood-flecked teeth, and the muscular body twitched and spasmed.

The display panels above Logain were alive with data, showing the human's mind was still – incredibly – attempting to resist. Vnad Ishan allowed himself a moment of wry admiration for the human before tapping several controls on the panel next to the pod, increasing the nervous system throughput by a factor of ten.

It risked killing the human rather than simply shattering his mind, but Ishan was not, after all, truly worried. If he died, it would only slow things down, and due to the hanar, he was inclined to slow things as much as he could without drawing the attention - or ire - of his masters.

The hanar's offer of restoration of his people, of rejuvenation of the DNA and XNA sequences that had become corrupted after millennia of cloning, had only two real requirements – an understanding of how an Ascended was created, and the delaying of any invasion by the main body of the Ascended for some time. How long 'some time' was meant to be was never specified by the hanar, only that the required delay would be measured in years, not centuries or even decades.

Of course, the Collector General knew the hanar were merely mouthpieces, much as he was but a mouthpiece to his masters. But the master of the hanar was much stronger. They answered to one of the Old Ones, the biological creators of the Ascended, who the Ascended feared and hated even to this day. There could not be more than twenty of the creatures all told, and yet the untold thousands of Ascended would not openly meet them in battle. Ishan had seen images of the last fight the Ascended had with their old creators – a single immature Old One had obliterated a dozen of the Greater Ascended and over five hundred Lessers before falling to sheer numbers.

The master of the hanar was no immature specimen, but older than the Ascended themselves. Ishan had struck the deal gladly... just as he had surrendered his people to the Ascended when their own war failed so long ago. Pragmatism did not taste good, but was always preferable to idealism and extermination, especially when taking a stand meant _nothing_.

He stroked his forelimbs across the control pad, adding instructions, as he considered his next move. His masters were busy with events in the Sculptor Galaxy, and inclined not to worry overmuch about the mess in this one. With the Citadel locked down and the Alpha Relay in Old One hands, that was more a factor of reality than will – it would simply take too long for the Ascended to get here via normal methods, and using the Godpower to make the trip would be a last resort, one utilized only if something truly dangerous was to arise in the galaxy.

As long as the Catalyst-Godpowermachine was trapped inside the Citadel, the natives were too busy killing each other, and the most powerful forces - the Broker Network and the hanar - were allied to the Collectors, the chance of anything going that badly was very unlikely.

The fact that the Collectors did not have a vast number of forces to work with allowed him to go as slowly as he liked. He still only had two ships of the Harvest-class – the third ship had been very nearly destroyed by Shepard in her final defiant moments. He had thirty-five Seeker-class ships, and a dozen Void-class drone carriers, but the Seekers were not even a match for some ships of the Citadel races.

The Void carriers each had over a thousand Oculus drone fighters, which could probably stand off a fair-sized fleet, but those were really designed for defending the station and various repairs and shipbuilding, not going out to abduct humans. They were currently building five more Harvest-class ships, but without access to more raw materials, that was going slowly as well.

He could divert energies from the Forge to speed up the construction of ships. In fact, he suspected his masters would order him to do so in their next communication. Thankfully, the jury-rigged nature of the Farcalling Device and the boosting systems constructed by the Shadow Broker required significant power to use and time to recharge – it would be another two solar cycles before Harbinger would demand progress.

His gaze returned to the form of Logain as it thrashed about. He adjusted his black robes, musing as his upper-limbs added muscle relaxants to the nutritional mix, when one of the Strike Overseers touched his mind.

"High One, the relay has been prepared and is charging now. The Pale Ones have been loaded and all strike teams are ready. The target world has recently been augmented with defenders, from the human government and the volus government. There is time to retarget, if you wish."

Vnad Ishan considered for long seconds, absently noting that Logain's form had stilled. "No. Proceed with the strike. Take eight of the Seekers... and two of the Void with you. Perform the Ascension Protocol as planned, but be prepared for interference."

The Strike Overseer inclined its head, four eyes altering in shape, a sign of perplexity. "That will add several days to our time for preparation. I presume you expect us to encounter heavy resistance? How do we reply to such?"

The Collector General turned to stare at the framework of the future Reaper. "A field of viend-wheat shot through with vhul worms was put to the torch to prevent the infestation from spreading, no? Remind the prey why they are _prey_."

The Strike Overseer placed its hands together. "We have abandoned stealth? Is this wise?"

The Collector General's mental tone was sharp, edged in red anger. "Your predecessor, who was reduced to regeneration stock for his failure, did not properly ensure Freedom's Progress left no clues. Video of the assault has been communicated to the Citadel Rulers, according to the Broker. While he is in the process of... neutralizing the issue with disinformation, the Oculi we have seeded into the galactic comms network reports that the asari and salarian military are making preparations."

The Overseer's voice questioned. "If we are already exposed, is not uncertainty better than clear understanding?"

Vnad Ishan's maw split open and twisted in amusement. "If we are already exposed, _fear _is better than uncertainty. Even if we have fallen... we remain Sethani. We remain the People. We do not flee, it is for others to fear and cry out to their gods in the dark."

The Strike Overseer bowed. "Your will, High One. We will be prepared in a few more days."

Dismissing the lesser from his mind-pattern, Vnad Ishan turned back to the form of Logain. "Now, let us begin." He tapped another control, and felt a warm glow of satisfaction as the shattered form in the pod screamed.

**O-TWCD-O**

It took the better part of three days before the medical team was satisfied with the condition of Garrus and his teammates. Most of this was spent on the recovery from cybernetic installations and in-depth nerve regeneration.

While Garrus's leg was top-quality and in no need of repair, his arm was lesser quality and basically wrecked, and the eye was definitely subpar. Miranda had thus replaced both with high-end custom cybernetics, including a direct dataport in the arm which could link him directly to his Skytalon battle-suit. They'd not been able to do much for the damage to his plates from the last hit he took, aside from corrective repairs to his neck and collar, and replacing the broken plating with silvery metal inserts. Melenis had joked that it gave him character, and Garrus's answer was wryly sarcastic.

"I needed some scars anyway... and they say females find them attractive. Mind you, those are mostly _krogan _females..."

Mierin's hand did not fully regenerate, so her thumb and two fingers were replaced with cybernetics, as well as her kneecap, which had been completely destroyed by a plasma bolt in the fighting. Sidonis's injuries had healed much more cleanly, and he spent most of his time fussing over his mate, until an exasperated Sedanya had thrown him out of the medical unit.

Erash had to have additional cybernetic filters installed in his flash-cloned lungs and would need more permanent work done in a few years. The nervous system damage from the infection had been fixed as well as it could be, but for the foreseeable future he was confined to a lift chair. He took the situation philosophically, pointing out to Garrus that being crippled still beat being dead.

Melenis's rash overloading of her biotics had not caused any serious damage to her nerves, and the multiple gunshot wounds in her arms and legs had healed cleanly, but she needed heavy regeneration to the gut-shot she'd taken and was still restricted to light duty. Garrus had been concerned about her, and Sedanya had laid his fears to rest, but he still looked oddly pensive at how badly she'd been wounded trying to protect him.

Krul was up and walking around, after three full days of forced regen and eating high-calorie, high content food packets. She still felt 'weak', but that was to be expected after the forced growth of an arm and leg in less than a week, in addition to the sheer amount of blood loss she'd endured. Mordin Solus took control of most of her care, showing a level of respect and deference to the female that baffled Shepard somewhat until he explained.

"Krogan females true core of species. Noble, intelligent. Emotionally mature. Most suffer from sterility, see themselves as failures. Still work hard to keep krogan race alive and stable. Krul endured more than most. Very wise. Always liked listening to old lore-songs as well."

All in all, given the level of opposition, the fact that most of them had not only survived but were not crippled for life was amazing. Given that they had all agreed to join Garrus in the fight against the Broker and eventually the Collectors, Shepard had shared some more information with them.

The revelations about the Systems Alliance and the plotting of the salarians and asari she kept quiet about, except to Garrus. There was no need for the rank and file to know everything, and she wasn't sure how well the humans would handle knowing the truth about the High Lords anyway. She wasn't even sure how _she _felt about the truth, aside from rage and a vast sense of disappointment in her own species.

Erash and Butler were seconded to Trudy's team, and began studying under a sneering and insulting Vigil on how to, as he put it, 'hack _properly_, instead of hacking as if you were swinging an axe'. Melenis was placed in medical to learn alongside Sedanya and the rest of the medical team, particularly about the advanced cybernetics and some of the needed surgical requirements of Shepard.

While Miranda and Pressly organized armor and weapons replacements, and Ezno and Taylor tested the Angels' marksmanship and biotics, Shepard was occupied with Grunt, along with Krul.

Krul had been a mix of horrified and fascinated to discover Okeer's legacy was a seemingly perfect male krogan youth. Shepard had let her listen to Okeer's final message, and her muzzle had twisted as she listened and then spat.

"Okeer, for all his wisdom and intellect, was little more than an upset child, raging that he did not get his way, Shepard. He wanted acclaim and glory, like a youngling, yet claimed himself above other krogan." She shook her head. "I worry about what his changes will mean for our people. Not having to endure stillbirth will weaken the trauma of the Genophage, and, in generations to come, make it more acceptable. "

Shepard nodded. "And the whole 'make the krogan better, faster, smarter' thing?"

Krul sighed. "Until our culture has time to fully heal, to rebuild the ranks of Loresingers and shaman seers, I do not think genetic upgrades will matter. The krogan's failure is one of viewpoint, not genetics – of priorities in what we hold valuable, not the fact that we blood rage when angry. Okeer's clan was always strange, and while they may have been acceptable to Citadel society, it was only because they vented their own rage and hate onto their own people instead of aliens."

Shepard folded her arms. "Fair enough. How does this affect Grunt?"

The female krogan had looked upon the younger krogan in amusement, watching as he dutifully read through the list of books Shepard had given him on human nature. "He is... strange. You have gifted him your clan name, which makes you his mother in our ways. He has no clan to call his own but yours, he was birthed by no krogan female and his 'father', Okeer, is dead."

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "...His mother?" Her voice had a strange, almost strained inflection to it, and Krul nodded.

"A krogan, when born, has neither clan nor krantt, what we call brothers and sisters of the soul. Blood relations matter less than you might think between siblings – rare is it that two krogan share both mother _and _father. More commonly, a fertile female has children by many different males."

She paused, adjusting the fit of the dark red robes that obscured her body. Unlike most female krogan she forwent the veil, as she was a Loresinger. "A krogan's father is responsible for giving the child their first weapon, for teaching them to survive, to hunt, and to kill. The mother, on the other hand, truly raises the child – to teach them to walk, to talk, and to read and write. It is the mother who shapes the future of the child, the mother to which every krogan looks for answers, for guidance of the soul when the mind fails."

Krul's hands folded below her outthrust chin, her bulbous eyes fixed on Shepard. "I am sure you meant it simply as an offhand thing, to give him a place. And yet that act – a battlemaster granting clan rights and a name to a youngling – is what separates a puling youth from a true krogan. Krogan must undergo a trial that takes them to the brink of death to be considered true adults, and cannot do so until they have a krantt."

She spread her massive hands. "That you have taken him into Clan Shepard – a clan that has spat upon death as weak, that has slain foes such as Saren and Benezia, and even toppled Okeer in single combat – a clan that has set its enemy not as mere mortals or even governments, but life-killing god abominations that have existed since krogan were little more than pond slime..."

The krogan gave a toothy grin. "Few indeed could hold a candle to _that _name."

Shepard shrugged. "...Great. I don't know shit about raising a krogan, Krul."

The female laughed, a surprisingly mirthful and gentle sound. "Okeer's filthy technology has done most of the less fun parts for you, human. He can walk, talk, fight, read, write, and think. Okeer has, according to Grunt, crammed his head full of the accumulated wisdom of the clans, a span of three thousand years. Given time and maturity, Grunt could become the first true Loremaster since the Rebellions."

She turned back to face Shepard. "How were you raised?"

Shepard closed her eyes, grimacing. "...Not well. I guess at one point my parents were actually decent – but they got strung out on drugs and sold me for cash. I was used... _badly_... ended up in gangs and nearly killed."

Krul nodded. "A good beginning, then."

Shepard looked at her incredulously. "What?"

The krogan female gave an almost human sounding sigh. "Human, tribulation and suffering are the gods' forge for our souls. There is a krogan saying - 'muscle only grows when torn'. A being with no suffering and no trauma cannot grow, they cannot contrast ill times with happy ones, nor true evil from good. If you had not suffered as you had, could you have endured what you have?"

Shepard wanted to protest, but stopped and thought about the words for long seconds. "I... don't know. Maybe the Beacon I found on Eden Prime would have killed me if my mind wasn't so fucked up. Or made me crazy, like the scientist who used it before I did." She frowned. "That doesn't mean it was something that I – _or anyone else_ – should have had to go through."

Krul nodded. "I agree. And yet, I would point out that 'should have been' is mere fantasy. The universe is not a vile place by design, nor is it destiny that all things suffer. Much is to be laid at the feet of those in power who cling to such, or those without power who crave it regardless of the cost."

She gestured to Grunt. "But for him, whose only life experiences will come at your feet, the suffering you have gone through will give you the strength he needs. Many krogan will not accept something that comes from a... science experiment. Many more will suggest anything of Okeer's should be burned with plasma fire for the safety of the krogan species, given what his _last _experiment with krogan genetics inflicted upon us."

Krul's voice softened. "Do not discount your suffering, for he will suffer as well. Use how you survived to find lessons for him to adhere to. If you truly believe no one should suffer as you have, then teach him the value of mercy, of love, even of despair instead of glory in valor and endless bloodshed."

Shepard's voice was bitter. "Not sure I can teach him much about love, given what I've lost."

Krul's hand landed on her shoulder. "And yet the memory of it remains. The touch upon your soul has not faded. I never met Liara T'Soni, never saw her save on vidcast. Yet is it not true that she still is within you?"

Shepard swallowed, glancing down. "It's hard to say any longer. I just feel empty."

Krul nodded. "Then it is your duty to refill yourself. You are not the only person who has lost all they have, nor are you the only person that fate has treated cruelly and unfairly. But you _are _the only person who has truly defeated death."

She stood, towering over Shepard. "It takes no wisdom to see that you and your choices will save or damn us all, human. And you are _not alone. _You thought Garrus was dead, and now you are united once more. Rekindle the fire of your soul, and instead of mere revenge, make the suffering you have endured _matter_."

Shepard glanced up at the alien female. "...Easier said than done."

Krul gestured to Grunt. "Not at all. Simply pour yourself into the love of another. Grunt does not realize it yet, but he will emulate and follow you by instinct. If he is presented with a cold, shattered figure too busy with bloodshed, revenge, and sorrow to live, then he will be little more than a weapon."

The krogan's eyes fixed on her. "Even if he is not the child of your body, is that really what you want the child of your soul to grow up being? A _thing _that only fights because fighting is all it knows, and to stop fighting is to stop living?"

Shepard was silent as Krul left the room, only being broken from her thoughts by Grunt. "Shepard. These books are... strange."

She forced herself to pay attention. "Strange how, Grunt?"

The krogan youth's expression turned into a frown, and his eyes narrowed. "Humans are incredibly weak, and yet they can endure things that would break a krogan. Okeer thought your people weak and untested, but the end of the First Contact War would have meant slavery or extermination for all of you. Just like the krogan. Except we had no asari to save my people."

Shepard shook her head. "Humans are a mixed lot, Grunt. Some of us are assholes, some are saints. Some won't break no matter what you put them through – others who look tough are weak-ass failures destined to die in a pool of their own blood and probably blaming others for it."

Grunt's expression did not clear. "Then this... Hegel... what is he saying? That who you are isn't up to anything but you?"

Shepard laughed, he _would _pick the one philosopher she bothered to read.

She'd given him a reading list of books she liked, and some ones on human behavior and history, so he could fit in a little better. He'd added some of his own choices that surprised her with their nature, such as Hemingway and Frazier, but he'd also clearly looked at some of her own non-reference choices.

She also found it interesting that he searched the extranet for surprisingly mature things. He didn't seemingly care about krogan porn, or amusement/entertainment sites, mostly examining historical records.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hegel is saying that we label things, and we get caught up in those labels instead of seeing the reality behind them." She paused. "I had a hard time understanding why people... acted in certain ways when I was younger. I wanted things to fit particular patterns, and they never did. I wanted things to be rational and they were always irrational."

She folded her arms. "It took me a long time to realize that we get sidelined in trying to find patterns where nothing exists. It's just words; words we apply to concepts and then expect those simple labels to somehow encompass the entire concept."

The krogan looked at her doubtfully, and she smiled wider. "Take for instance krogan charging. Why do krogan do it?"

Grunt frowned. "Glory is to be found in battle. Warlord Vhruug claimed that to hide from weak races was dishonorable."

She snorted. "And yet, charging doesn't work very well in a lot of cases." She paused, laughing at her own ironic statement, then continued. "Charging enemy lines came from a time when the krogan outnumbered everyone, and there were too many to kill, even en masse, when charging. Somehow that got equated to honor, and now that there's a whole lot less of you, krogan keep doing the same thing."

She let him think that through before continuing. "Everything has a starting condition, and eventually runs into something that invalidates that condition before either getting destroyed, destroying the conflicting element, or merging the two. Arguments, war, and weapons designs all follow that pattern. You can't simply look at situations at face value because 'face value' is a code we – intelligent beings – use to summarize something very big, most times."

Grunt rubbed his muzzle. "But what good is it?"

She shrugged. "It makes you think. It makes you question if you are doing something because it is rational or just assuming things – and assumption is the mother of all fuckups." She smiled. "Which is one of the Rules of Not Dying Horribly."

The youth gave an amused snort. "The Rules of Not Dying Horribly?"

She grinned. "Yep. Rule number one. Always check the body. Rule number two—" She stopped as the comms alert went off on her omni-tool, frowning.

"Shepard here."

The voice of Trudy Menrows in Ops was brisk. "_Incoming QEC comms from the Horizon detection drone, ma'am. Confirmed Prothean jump-drive traces, and an anomalous relay activation two minutes ago."_

She tapped her comm-link. "Pressly! Time for immediate launch of the _Normandy _and ETA to Horizon at full rated speed?"

Pressly took a second to respond, while Shepard was already moving at a dead run toward the elevators. "_Fifteen minutes to prep the core, probably another thirty to get undocked and moving. One hour six minutes to the relay. We're lucky it was Horizon – the rest would take three hours. The Horizon relay links directly to the one in Anthus."_

Shepard nodded, slapping the elevator control panel to open the car. "Get people moving. Have Miranda confirm QEC signal with TIM. Vigil!"

The voice of the machine sounded. "It is time, then?"

"Get the ships you control moving, at least the frigates and destroyers. Leave the cruisers and carrier with the _Normandy _for now. Any of those ships have human crews or captains yet?"

"Not yet, primitive. Only the bigger ships. Captain Taylor is currently commanding the carrier; most human crews are on the cruisers."

She came out on the habitation deck, headed for her quarters. "Get 'em moving, and get everyone else going. We don't have much time. I hope the idea you and Mordin came up with to deal with the swarm things works, or this is going to be a short fight."

**O-TWCD-O**

Delacor sighed, glancing around the lavish and spacious meeting room of the Horizon Chamber, and once again he wondered why in the hell Udina had sent him and not some politico to deal with this mess. Someone like Anderson, or even Branson. Delacor had a natural tendency to defer to authority rather than buck it, and it was hard going against his own habits even as Spectre.

Especially when he distrusted the very idea of 'unlimited Spectre authority'.

The trip to Horizon had gone well enough, and in a spot of luck they arrived to see Horizon defense forces fighting off a pirate raid. Battle Group Chiron had cut the pirates to pieces, saving a pair of damaged bulk freighters from being taken as prizes, and that had somewhat smoothed the normal rudeness Horizoners usually expressed when dealing with the Systems Alliance.

Despite being a Systems Alliance officer and commanding a Systems Alliance battle group, Delacor had framed his mission as being a Spectre operation. The Horizon Chamber, the leadership of the largest and oldest of the wildcat colonies, had been truculent at first, but once he'd made clear the fact that they were here to actually help and not just posture, most of the anti-SA rancor had fallen to one side.

The VDF ships had arrived the next day, and some five hundred volus engineers (with a handful of quarians) had set up shop near the capital of Horizon, amusingly named Crash Landing. Horizon was not a well-settled world – despite the fact it had almost two million inhabitants, there were only four major centers of settlement.

This allowed the VDF to focus building defense networks near the cities, instead of having to cover an entire planet. They'd brought GARDIAN towers - big, heavy, petawatt band x-ray burst channel guns, top of the line and straight from salarian R&amp;D - and some city-scale shielding generators. Of course volus being volus meant they also brought a mess of GTS defense trucks and enough missiles and torpedoes to blow up a small moon.

They even had nine crates full of LOKI mechs, the infantry version, along with preprogrammed instruction sets, equipped with shotguns and a mix of heavy weapons.

Delacor, in dealing with the volus, had done what he could. He showed them, alongside the Horizon Chamber, the video from Freedom's Progress and the report the quarians had given on the hacks done to the colony. The VDF had made very sure to remove wireless capability from the war robots, and the GARDIAN towers and GTS trucks would require manual operation. Horizoners were even now being trained on those.

The smooth reception had only gone so far before, of course, something went wrong. The only time his luck was good was just before it turned _**really **_bad.

The first problem was the GARDIAN towers themselves. The VDF had set up three towers around each of the four cities. But running them manually, without VI support, meant targeting adjustments had to be done _manually _and that could only be accomplished by live fire against a moving target. The _Kazan _had thus been busy swooping around while gunners on the ground took very low-power potshots at it.

Of course, a low-power GARDIAN laser hit was still a hit, and lasers didn't care about kinetic shields. The engineers were upset at having to go EVA and perform minor armor repairs every day, and the pilots were jittery from dodging GARDIAN strikes and having to fly a cruiser in atmosphere. It didn't help that the GARDIAN towers had settings useful to the volus, who lived on planets with a much different atmosphere index than Horizon. Laser settings had to be completely redone from scratch.

Lieutenants Cole and Williams had gone down to the planet to work with the Horizon militia, such as it was. The primary defense force of the planet was a reinforced regimental combat unit, roughly a thousand strong, from the Blue Suns Citadel Division. Comprised almost entirely of asari, the unit was well-equipped, but had not seen a lot of heavy combat – mostly the occasional pirate raid. The asari in the unit were clearly more interested in getting laid with humans than fighting – the oldest member of the band aside from the leader was barely one hundred and sixty, and the unit as a whole was led by a matron, not a matriarch.

The militia, roughly ten thousand strong, was a heavily mixed bag. Each militiaman or militiawoman had their own armor and weapons, while the colony paid for kinetic shields and omni-tools. Williams focused on training a more experienced subset of the militia in heavier weapons, while Cole and his sergeants did basic drills and practice battles.

The problem with all this was that the Blue Suns didn't like having two Systems Alliance companies on the planet, as their contract stated they would be the only defensive force aside from the militia. The matron in charge, Vasia Sederis, was one of the many, _many _daughters of the Eclipse crazy woman Jona Sederis, and while she'd gotten out of Eclipse (for reasons that had accompanied a thousand rumors of varying credibility), she still appeared to inherit her mother's lack of mental stability.

She'd demanded the Horizoners build asari-style hab units, that the colony pay software and engineering costs, and that they wouldn't hire any other mercenary force. And when she'd learned the SA forces were arriving, she'd thrown a fit, demanding a higher pay schedule from the colony as well as assurances from the Horizon Chamber that Blue Suns 'interests' on the planet wouldn't be compromised.

Those 'interests' turned out to be a light mech factory and what looked, to Delacor's admittedly untrained eye, like a red sand processing facility. They were also in possession of a large cargo yard full of unmarked shielded containers, which was most likely unregistered eezo or something even more illegal in Citadel Space.

Rather than get into a pissing contest over it, Delacor simply instructed his people to stay away from the fourth city near the Blue Suns, and told the Blue Suns CO that he was only going to be here until VDF forces showed up to relieve him – and that, frankly, he had better ways to waste his time than going after her people.

Now, six days into the debacle, he stood in the Horizon Chamber, listening to them rant on about 'Systems Alliance spies'. Apparently, one of Cole's patrols had discovered someone sneaking around near the ad hoc GARDIAN control center the volus had set up. A firefight had broken out and two of his men were dead, along with six dead humans.

Running their ID cards and names had come up blank in the SA and Citadel databases, but DNA sampling had four hits, all known members of the terrorist group known as the Hand of Hades. Delacor was familiar with the group's rhetoric, but, having access to Spectre intelligence, he also knew a lot more about it than most people.

Unlike Cerberus, Hades didn't give a shit about doing things on multiple levels – political, economic, scientific and military. They were strictly criminals in his opinion, involved in slavery, drug running, and open terrorism against any and all alien investment. The only aliens they didn't harass or try to kill were asari who were legal SA citizens – anything else was fair game.

Which was the core of his problem now. "Honored speakers, I understand your initiative regarding Hades. The Systems Alliance, I am sorry to say, has done a very poor job of even _trying _to protect outlying colonies over what I see as political issues. Hades, regardless of whatever else it has done, is about the only thing aside from the Butcher actually fighting piracy in the Traverse, and I know that's a big issue for you all. I'm certainly not going to argue with you about the choices you've made in the past – I'm a soldier, not a political figure."

He folded his arms, his cybernetic eye whirring as he looked across at the seven men and women he faced. "At the same time, Hades _is_ a criminal organization. One that is heavily opposed to any form of alien investment or interaction with humanity. And my task is to protect the installation of defenses on your world being financed and overseen by aliens. You see that this puts me in, at best, a difficult position."

The eldest man on the Horizon Chamber Board, a wealthy industrialist named Charles Verner, nodded sourly. His wispy white hair framed a lined, almost cruel face, with thickset brows over dark eyes, a slab-like jaw, and a thick, oft broken nose. "Very pretty words, Captain. But you yourself have said your presence here is only temporary." The man fiddled with the cuffs of his dark suit, then glanced back up. "One might suggest simply turning a blind eye to events that do not concern you."

Delacor's jaw tightened. "Two of my Marines are dead. That is not exactly something that doesn't concern me."

Another speaker, a woman in her late-forties named Francene Ativa, gave a slow smile. Her heart-shaped face was framed in slightly frosted blond hair, and her pale gray eyes had a hint of mischief in them as she spoke. "While true, it is also true that six men were killed by your security forces. I, myself, do not know why Hades would take an interest in the command center, but it would certainly be better served if all parties simply de-escalated this event, no?"

Delacor wondered if this one was on the board because she slept her way there or because she was a snake. He figured both, and his answer was in a cooler tone. "My forces were not the ones who escalated, honored speaker. If I may indulge in bluntness, my orders from the _Council_ were clear." He stressed the word, and narrowed his eyes. "And those were to prevent anything from interfering with the VDF mission and ensure the world of Horizon was safe."

He straightened. "Frankly, Hades's modus operandi sounds a lot like Cerberus used to. Sure, they blew up pirates and helped out independent colonies." He avoided the word wildcat that they so hated. "But evidence shows they also _caused_ some of those attacks to happen, and were engaged in trying to drive wedges between independent colonies and the SA."

He took a breath. "And I think that is what is happening here. Hades can't have any good intentions towards the VDF engineers who are _risking their lives _to protect your world. And Hades isn't happy about volus investment – this is deliberate. As a Spectre, I don't need evidence or permission to go after them – I'm asking to be polite and to show my cooperation."

The speakers glanced at one another, before one of them spoke, an older black man with a shaven head and a long beard done in very thin dreadlocks, wearing a very expensive suit. "Be that as it may, Captain – we're disinclined to throw away ties with a group that has been extremely helpful thus far. The volus aren't making this effort out of the goodness of their hearts. They want to absorb human colonies to get humans to act as officers for those vorcha thugs they've incorporated into their armed forces, so they don't have to fight themselves."

The speaker glanced around the room. "Some of us have agreed to this, and some of us _haven't_. Frankly, I think Hades is exactly right about the situation, the fact that at least you aren't full of shit about the SA's response notwithstanding. The fact remains that you yourself said you aren't even here on the SA's dime, but as a Spectre. And I suspect that's only because the volus paid someone off. Am I wrong?"

Delacor gritted his teeth. "I fail to see what bearing that has on you providing information on criminals so they can be apprehended."

The man leaned back. "Son, let me share a piece of wisdom with you. You can measure a man by when he chooses to stand with you. Hades has been out here for the past two years, helping with supplies, fighting pirates, keeping the goddamned comm lanes open, and making sure some pack of fucking batarians didn't show up and enslave us all."

The speaker folded his arms. "I'm sure they have their motives, just like the volus have theirs. Difference is, you and the volus wouldn't even _be _here if the situation hadn't gone bad. You've told us yourself that these _Collectors_ aren't something you can go after and shut down – because the politics are wrong. Because aliens don't want to start a war with that bitch Aria just to save a few million measly humans."

Delacor sighed. "That is an extreme oversimplification."

Another speaker, a younger man with fiery red hair and a long horseshoe mustache, snorted. "I would say Eamon has a very good point. Hades, for good or ill, has been helping us for some time. We let them know about the volus's plans, and we don't know what would have happened, because your men decided to _shoot them_." He scowled. "You claimed you are here to help – then do so. Train our people, have the volus set up their defenses – then go. We haven't decided yet on whether to accept the volus offer, and until we do we're not burning any bridges."

Delacor gave an amused chuckle.

Verner frowned. "Something funny, Captain?"

Delacor nodded. "My Spectre partner, Tela Vasir, told me once that no one actually respects being treated respectfully. I can see she was right. Perhaps I was unclear, Speakers." His voice hardened. "You can give what you know about Hades on this world, or I can simply find out myself. The Council isn't going to care what I do all the way out here, outside of Council Space. The SA doesn't even give a shit. And I really doubt your Blue Suns mercs are going to risk fighting my men to protect a group that wants them all _dead_."

Delacor was about to speak again when his comm-link rang, illuminated in red for urgent. He tapped it. "Delacor here."

The voice of his XO, Lieutenant Commander Marie Durand, sounded worried. "_Very sorry to disturb you, sir. Frigate _Luchang _reported unusual activity at the mass relay. We're not sure what it is, sensors are clean except for some exotic particle traces, but you said comm you if anything_—"

His eyes widened as he slapped his emergency command band, interrupting her. "All units! Set defensive pattern BLAZING SHIELD. All ground forces, defend GARDIAN centers. Spin up all weapons. All ships, set condition Two-SQ, maximum battle alert. Williams, get those damned Blue Suns to defense positions and then fall back with Charlie and Delta to the Horizon Chamber. Li An, get the shuttle here pronto."

He turned to the Horizoners. "I have to get back to my ship. Lieutenant Williams will brief you. We have incoming."

Verner's eyes widened. "You mean—"

Delacor was moving to leave, but spoke over his shoulder. "The last thing the sensors of the _Normandy _reported before being blown out of the sky – _exotic particle traces_."

**O-TWCD-O**

Ashley Williams cursed soundly, keeping close to the cover of the low retaining walls around the GARDIAN ops center. Chaos reigned all around them. The staccato sounds of Marines laying down fields of fire echoed weirdly across the wide plaza, as did the screams of wounded and dying people. Green blasts and lances of pale yellow death raked their answering fire across makeshift barricades and cover surrounding the towering ops center, and more screaming and cursing told her they'd hit something.

She could hear the comm chatter from the battle group's relay circuit on her omni-tool, and it wasn't looking good for Team Blue. Chiron was having its ass handed to it by the bugs. Two frigates had simply been blown to pieces, a third had kamikazed, and one destroyer was breaking up in atmosphere even now, chunks of burning wreckage leaving bright, ugly trails of fire across the sky.

Horizon was under heavy attack by the Collectors, and the situation had gone completely to shit.

Based on the video footage of the attack on Freedom's Progress, Commissar Jiong had speculated that kinetic barrier fields and biotic barriers might keep the flying insect looking things away. Given that Horizon's native asari population was less than thirty, it fell to the Blue Suns force to provide any biotic defense.

Despite the tension between the Marines and the Blue Suns, the Blue Suns CO had agreed with Jiong's theory, and thus split about a third of her force into small squads that were set up around the city evac centers, while the rest were dug in around the control centers for the GTS defenses.

The Collector attack had come out of nowhere – one second, she was training civvies on how to use C-404 MDRs, a light civil defense rifle made by the turians that could go from rifle to shotgun with the flip of a switch. The next, one of Chiron's frigates was just gone, and Delacor had gone off screaming orders on the omni-tool.

It had taken the Collectors a bit of time to even get moving - they appeared surprised by the level of resistance waiting for them. Delacor had used that time to blast out the highest powered distress signal he could using Spectre codes, but wasn't sure it got out - the first action the bugs did was sweep out and blast the FTL comm buoy network to bits.

Battle Group Chiron had managed to stand off the smaller collector ships, and had the big one at least temporarily immobilized with missile and torpedo strikes against the engines, while on the planet below, the militia and Blue Suns struggled to get civilians into the armored, sealed shelters that would hopefully protect them. Williams wasn't real hopeful on that score, given what the Collectors had done to Freedom's Progress, but then again, there wasn't much to hack in terms of the defenses here either.

Eventually battle was joined between the Collectors and BG Chiron, and it was not a fair matchup.

The fleet had stood off the Collectors for almost an hour, with Delacor clearly trying to maneuver them away from the planet, but that had failed. Even so, Kyle torpedoes had crushed two of the smaller Collector ships, and the big carrier ship had been half-wrecked by the one frigate that had gone kamikaze, screaming defiance as they crashed into the launch deck – which, at the very least, had cut off any more of those drones from launching.

The biggest of the Collector vessels out-massed the _Kazan _by a good deal, and the two were now locked up in a heavy battle in orbit. The explosion of more than one Kyle torpedo had sent radiation alerts lashing across the colony's sensors, but the _Kazan _had taken severe damage in return.

Smaller Collector ships and hordes of automated drones had tied up the few orbital defenses of Horizon as well as the rest of Chiron, and they were slowly winning. The two remaining destroyers and trio of frigates were hitting them hard, but all of the SA ships were reporting heavy damage and running low on missiles.

As for the ground defenses, the good news was the damned endless adjustments and test firings had done some good - the guns were brutally on target and the GTS trucks saturated the sky with missiles, having blown apart one of the smaller Collector ships by themselves. The GARDIAN towers were firing at top speed, shredding the endless tide of drones that obscured the naval battle, and hammered the main Collector ship when they got a chance, which was the only reason Chiron hadn't been blown out of sky so far.

Even with all the defense systems firing and Chiron's best efforts the Collectors had gotten a few ships past Delacor. And it was obviously only a matter of time before the _Kazan _succumbed.

Two Collector ships had landed, disgorging swarms of flying insect things and a small army of brown-armored humanoid figures with long, curved rifles and large wings. The ground force had struck hard at the capital, and Williams had not been able to get to the government's seat of power in time – Collectors had shot their way through the Blue Suns and captured the building twenty minutes ago.

Her own force of Marines, about forty, was now dug in around the central GTS control site with about two hundred Blue Suns and a handful of militia. The Suns engineers had rigged up kinetic barrier blocks and their biotics were maintaining a huge barrier field bubble, keeping the insects at bay, but the biotics were straining to do so.

And now the Collectors were coming, firing as they came. The force under Cole was pinned down by the GTS trucks with more Blue Suns, and had taken some casualties. Williams's Marines had not taken any, yet.

She glanced up over her cover, sighted in on a Collector firing at the Suns engineers, and pulled the trigger of her sniper rifle. The powerful round blasted into the greenish barriers of the thing and knocked it over, but it was back on its feet a moment later, firing more green-tinted blasts of energy that sheared through armor like it wasn't even there.

A group of Collectors in heavy black robes was guarded behind the front ranks of the Collector soldiers, wreathed in greenish biotic light. They lashed out at the biotic barrier and it contracted, screams of pain coming from the Blue Suns maintaining it.

She fired twice more, killing another Collector, before green fire lashed at her position. She scrambled for new cover, wincing as one of the blasts vaporized a line of armor across her back, and slid behind a heavy concrete beam next to one of the Blue Suns mercs.

"What's the sitrep?"

The asari mercenary was young, with bold red marks around her eyes and lips, wearing the blue and white heavy armor of the Suns and clutching a shotgun. "Not good. Commander Sederis is at the other side, and reports they are being pressed. And our biotics..." she broke off and shook her head. "The enemy's Art is just more powerful. We won't be able to keep this barrier up forever."

Williams nodded, noting with dismay that she'd gone through two entire ammo-blocks already. "And the evac?"

The asari grimaced. "Last I heard, Vennish and That Place had both been hit hard. We managed to get about a third of the population into the evac center here and half into the center at Bad Luck. Not sure how long they'll hold out."

Williams was about to reply when Cole's voice sounded. "_Kilo Mike Beta, this is Kilo Mike Alpha. GTS trucks are burning, but expended most of their ammo. We're down to seventy percent effectiveness. Commander Sederis is falling back towards you while we stick it out in this comm center with the kinetic barriers on. ETA on Sederis's group is One-Zero-Minutes, cover them. How copy?"_

Williams clicked her radio. "Good copy. I'll have my people cover them. Priority should be defense of the GARDIAN controls – if those go down, battlegroup Chiron is fucked hard."

Cole chuckled. "_No worries. Still, this place isn't going to hold forever. I'm moving my people into the MAKOs and getting ready to boogie if we get overrun. I'll slag the controls before I go, and hope the auto-target picks the right targets to fire at."_

Williams nodded, sighting in on another Collector, and firing. She smiled when the loathsome creature collapsed. "Good idea." She frowned as more chatter came across the comm-link, Delacor's voice sounding weary and strangely soft.

"_More ships incoming... signatures unknown. Brace for incoming."_

Williams bit her lip, then nearly jumped out of cover when whooping cheers erupted over the comm-link. "The hell?"

Delacor's voice was laden with amusement. "_I think I finally have a spot of good luck, Lieutenant. A goddamned fleet of the Butcher's ships just tore into the system and unloaded on that carrier."_

Williams murmured a word of thanks to the Lord, and then wondered, as Collectors shot away her cover and sent her scrambling, if even the Butcher would be enough to save them. A memory of her squad being butchered against superior numbers on Eden Prime and again on Virmire flashed across her mind, and she set her jaw as she aimed at another Collector.

"Not this time, assholes."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard sat stiffly in the chair in the CIC, staring hard at the plot. "Pressly, ETA to the relay."

The XO walked down Ops Alley, checking over both the human and robotic operators with one eye. "Eleven minutes, ma'am. Engines are stable at one twenty-six on the core, charge is at twelve percent and building."

She glanced at the plot again, seeing the AI-controlled ships under Vigil swing into action against the Collectors. Vigil's voice was muted, shorn of his usual sarcasm. "All ships under extremely heavy cyberwarfare attack, Shepard. Most of the damage the SA fleet in system has inflicted is cosmetic except for some hits from what appear to be Kyle-class torpedoes. The Collector ships are... regenerating, _slowly _\- some kind of memetic polyceramic mix with... resin?"

Shepard's jaw twitched. "Fucking wonderful. Comms status?"

The sphere circled the plot. "FTL buoys are down. The Collectors found six of the seven QEC retransmit drones... the one I'm using now is still safe in the asteroid belt of the system." He paused. "There is an additional carrier in the system that has not joined the fighting, Shepard, on the far side of the star."

She nodded. "How is the SA fleet doing?"

Vigil moved to hover over her shoulder, as Miranda entered the CIC, dressed in battle armor. "Not good. The Spectre has lost three of his ships, and the rest are fighting multiple hull breaches and fires. The Collector main vessel has taken multiple direct hits from the GARDIAN systems below and from torpedoes and missiles, but is only at twelve percent damage."

Miranda frowned. "It survived more than one Kyle-class hit? How strong _are _these ships?"

Vigil made a bobbing motion, his glow increasing slightly. "Unknown - Prothean hull materials could have resisted one or two, but not more than that. This material is anomalous and shares similarities with both Prothean metals and, oddly enough, the sort of materials used by a race extinguished by the Reapers more than half a million years ago."

Shepard willed herself to exhale normally. "Doesn't matter. Vigil, move the bulk of your ships without war robots to augment Delacor and protect his ships, and stand off the Collector... let's call it a _cruiser_. Heavies are to drop pod the war robots and then head back up and surround and cripple the first carrier."

She pointed to the plot. "When we hit the system, have our carrier launch to clear a path to Horizon, and detail our cruisers to finish the carrier and join the fight against the cruiser. Once Joker drops us off on Horizon, reform the battle line and finish off that cruiser before killing the other one. "

Vigil pulsed. "The Collectors have just destroyed one of our frigates with a compressed muon particle blast... a missile, not a beam. Radiation readings very high. The blast blew right past the upgraded armor and destabilized the mass core."

Shepard's eyes widened in alarm. "They did what?"

"Do not panic, primitive. I have seen this trick before. If not for all this cyber warfare they are hurling at my runtimes...adjusting pilot profiles..." The sphere flickered for several seconds, actually losing its definition before reshaping itself. "...another frigate badly damaged, but escaped being crippled. Sloppy execution."

Shepard shook her head. Just because she had top-end equipment didn't mean this would be an easy fight. "Fuck. Status on that other carrier?"

Vigil pulsed in irritation. "Unfortunately, the second carrier just went active. It is deploying drone fighters and moving at a high rate of speed to engage our ships. I also detect some kind of high-band burst transmission headed out of the system." It paused. "I am not sure if that is a call for reinforcements - if it is, we don't have much time. The relay jump trick Solus described them using takes time to prepare, but not much."

Shepard glared. "Specifics?"

Vigil gave a bobbing motion as it moved to hover again over her shoulder. "...Perhaps a few hours. Perhaps days. I have no idea what kind of energy generation equipment they have access to, primitive. I may be powerful, but I am not omnipotent."

Shepard glanced at Pressly. "Double fuck. XO, you have the deck and the conn. I'll be in the cargo bay prepping the tank. Miranda, for this fight Taylor is the BDO - I want you, Solus, Sedanya, and Melenis on hot standby in a shuttle to deal with casualties. This is going to be a fucking mess, I can just feel it."

Miranda nodded. "And the rest?"

Shepard headed for the elevator. "Aside from the change to your team, we'll go with the lineups we worked out on the way here. We may have to adjust based on what we find on the ground, but for the most part - heavy hitters with me while Tali, Jack, and Kasumi act as free response support."

Joker's voice called out. "Five minutes to relay translation. Fasten your seatbelts and fire up your cigars, this is going to be a real fun insertion."


	33. Arc II Climax : Fire on the Horizon

_**A/N**:_

_At very nearly 20k words, this one is a monster. In ME2 Horizon was important, but left me somewhat less than impressed by the Collectors. I hope to rectify that.  
_

_As usual, a giant t__hanks to the Editing Gang for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes. They deserve more credit than I do.  
_

_MonkeyEpoxy, the conclusion of this chapter can be laid at your feet.  
_

* * *

_'I've often found that the various clowns who threaten the security of the galaxy hold unrealistically high opinions of themselves and their so-called plans. When these are foiled, most have a tendency to throw a temper tantrum... but a few, the dangerous ones, take it as the keening of a vakar and get serious. I hate it when they get serious.'  
_

_\- Saren Arterius, 'Dying for the Cause'  
_

* * *

Yashana Jackson stared out the thick armaglass windows at the carnage beneath the central colony tower, eyes wide and hands wrapped tightly around her daughter. She was one of a tiny handful of asari who'd chosen Horizon to live on. She'd made the decision when only a young maiden to leave the endless drudgery of water refining on Praxos in pursuit of a more exciting life – and it had seemed so easy, for a life of adventure and fun. And she'd found that and more – a fulfilling job, a human mate, and a child.

For all of the fun and satisfaction she'd experienced, though, she now wished she'd listened to the rumors and left for the Systems Alliance proper. Sure, getting in would have been a pain, but they would have been safe – instead of having to face the nightmare now upon her small family.

Her bondmate, a captain of the militia, was out there fighting, possibly dying against these horrible _things _that had come boiling out of the sky. And it was clear that the forces attempting to protect Horizon were losing. Yashana was not sure what was going on in space – flashes of terrible light cracked across the sky, and twice now bits and pieces of clearly human ships and wreckage had come tumbling down in fiery trails to smash against the ground.

On the ground, things were _worse_.

The ranks of the enemy seemed endless, hordes of shambling, defiled corpses goaded on by flying monsters with weapons unlike anything she'd ever seen. The small tank group of the Horizon Militia had gone out and been blown to bits - by single hits from the rifles of the flying ones. The first time it had happened, the militia had watched frozen in disbelieving horror, and the tanks that tried to counter-fire were blasted apart by more greenish blasts.

As dreadful as the flying things were, the corpse-soldiers were even worse. The zombie-like things took multiple shots to kill. More than once she'd turned away from horrible scenes of militiamen borne down under a rush of monstrosities and torn to pieces, limbs and blood flung around in unthinking savagery.

Even the Blue Suns could not drive the enemy back, although the heavy weapons and battle-suits had at least slowed the advance of the enemy. But those suits were all destroyed now, piles of burning wreckage, and the heavy weapons teams had been forced to fall back. All that held the enemy back now were the heavy defense turrets upon the colony tower, firing in long streams, barrels glowing red hot under the strain of such constant fire.

The sky was defiled by vast clouds of swarming things, like giant bugs the size of a fist. Tens of thousands of colonists, unable to make it to a shelter in time, had been caught by the swarms and somehow paralyzed. The colonists were immobilized where they stood, some crashing to the ground in mid-step. The city itself was in ruins, from where the bug-creatures had fired directly into it as they landed.

The mossy ground cover of the hills beyond was blackened with fire, as the Blue Suns force fell back in shaky echelons toward the city proper. On the horizon she saw a huge and towering column of smoke from the direction of That Place, the next closest city. Tucked up against a mountain, most people had felt it was safer than Crash Landing in terms of being attacked.

The enormous pillar of smoke that rose into the sky put an end to that notion once and for all. Light but persistent tremors could be felt under their feet for more than an hour now - the aftershocks of orbital bombardment. Hope was dying. She could feel it in the frightened motion and troubled whispers of the other horrified spectators beside her.

She glanced behind her, at the tightly packed crowd crammed into the tower. No one knew what was going on. The Horizon Chamber of Control was burning brightly in the distance, and the local communications network had been severed. Every computer was corrupted with some kind of VI-driven malware that was trying to kill the environmental support systems – the frantic motions of a team of Blue Suns engineers and a few civilian data engineers the only thing keeping them running.

The tower's kinetic barrier shuddered as more incoming fire slammed into it. More of the bugs crashed against it in seeming fury to get at the defenseless people inside. A thin line of battered, bloodied SA Marines, militiamen, and Blue Suns held the entry portal, shielded by a weakly glowing blue barrier.

Her daughter, Sania, clutched her mother's torso more tightly, turning away from the images she could barely understand, and Yashana felt helpless tears slip from her eyes. She glanced around a second time, seeing human mothers clutching their own children, helpless males holding weapons with grim, beaten expressions, and felt herself despair.

Suddenly, one of the militiamen standing at the far window overlooking the city proper gasped. "Holy shit!"

She arched her neck to see what was happening, only to see a gleaming ship of hard black and bright, shining gold burst through the heavy cloud cover, searing beams of energy lancing out, carving into the lines of the bug-creatures nearing the tower. The misshapen things gave screams of agony audible even from inside the tower as they were blasted apart, and tumbling figures erupted from the ship, falling below to land heavily on the terrain. These shapes unfolded into war robots, clutching heavy weapons and firing back at the invading bugs. Dozens of the vile creatures fell to the ground, torn apart by explosions, plasma and heavy slugs.

The figures in insectile armor shot back, blasting several of the robots to the ground only for the automatons to rise once more, with an almost dreadful slowness, as if the powerful weapons that had hit them were nothing more than inconveniences. The corpse-like creatures rushed them in a vast wave that simply came apart when a group of the robots leveled fully automatic, cyclical assault cannons and began laying down torrential streams of explosive shells, parting the things like a scythe through a wheat field.

More of the black ships tore across the sky, even as one of the strange enemy vessels on the ground began rising into the air to meet them. A lance of golden fire erupted from one of the cylindrical ships, slamming into a low-flying black ship and scoring the hull deeply seconds before the entire frigate exploded, crashing to the ground in fragments. Even as it did so, however, two more ships opened fire with sprays of missiles and powerful guns, sending detonations racing through the enemy ship and forcing it to fall back.

Words began to percolate through the crowd, as more ships descended, one of them instantly recognizable from the footage from Omega, emblazoned with a name that once before had represented home and vengeance.

_Normandy_.

**O-TWCD-O**

Lieutenant Tyrone Cole cursed as another one of his Marines went down to a flash of green energy, the blast coring the man's chest and blasting a hole clean through the tower's heavy steel walls behind him. He fired back with his heavy Crossfire rifle, the burst stitching a neat row of holes into the Collector that had fired, and it fell to the ground, but two more calmly walked forward, firing as they came.

The 'simple mission' to help prepare Horizon had turned into a hellscape.

Cole had been in charge of half of the _Kazan's _Marine complement, sent down to reinforce the militia and help train them to do more than hold rifles and wear pretty uniforms. Williams had been placed in charge of the other half, dealing with some of the more experienced milita. The colonists were standoffish at times, but they learned quick and paid close attention to the training.

Cole had his own opinions on the need for wildcat colonies, but he was forced to admit the people of Horizon were tough bastards. None of them quit the drills and training and most of them would stack up decently against a B-rate Marine in a fight. Things had been going well.

Until now.

When the comms call came in from Captain Delacor warning of an attack, he'd gathered up half his men and headed at top speed for his assigned defense location, one of the GTS Defense Command Towers, and instructed the other half to help get people into the shelter. He got fragmented comms from the fight in orbit, and it didn't sound like they'd have much time.

Twice the Collectors had fired from space down onto the planet, incinerating a pair of cities with their weapons. Why they did so when earlier strikes had been almost surgically devoid of clear evidence of violence was unknown - Cole wasn't paid to theorize.

Then again, it wasn't hard to figure out either. The bugs were leaving a message.

He'd set up his force in-depth defense around the GTS tower - what few snipers he had towards the back, riflemen in ranks around the front, shotgunners near the low cover available further out. The towers themselves were simple - a laser-link system hardwired to a targeting VI and sensor array - but the tower was heavily armored and boasted its own defensive turrets, meter-thick cover walls curving around the entrance and a dedicated comm network powerful enough to at least allow for local comms.

His men weren't alone. A handful of militia were already at the tower, and more trickled in as the shelters filled up. Some Blue Suns had joined in along the way as well, forming up with them just as the Collectors landed. Without anyone else giving orders both groups had deferred to him, which surprised him, but he wasted no time in adding them to his defense line.

The presence of the asari among the Blue Suns proved to be a saving grace, as clouds of fist-size bugs came from the sky, buzzing wildly and flitting over everyone they could get to. Anything they stung was hit by a green flare of light and then locked into stasis. Three of Cole's Marines, slowed by something in the city, were caught in the open and frozen in mid-step, along with thousands of panicking colonists still not able to get to the shelters.

The Suns mercenaries, mostly asari, had put up a huge biotic bubble of some kind around the forces defending the tower, which kept the freezing insects away from them. That tied up six asari, who knelt in the doorway of the tower, guarded by their mercenary sisters. His own mission was equally clear - keep the bugs away from the Tower and hope the guns could blow the Collectors out of the sky.

The GTS trucks nearby had ripple-fired off their payloads quickly, the volus manning them being panicked by the attack. It had done some damage, but had also drawn attention to them, and a thick band of enemy soldiers, brown and insectile-looking, had rapidly approached the city.

The militia had sent out their tank unit - a pack of up-armored GRIZLI's and a pair of old FCW-era Merkava tanks redone with modern weaponry. They were hardly top of the line models - the tanks were over half a century old at this point - but they should have been able to crush infantry easily.

Except the Collectors weren't normal infantry. They'd taken to the air, dodging the heavy blasts from the armor units, and opened up with their rifles. The tanks and APCs had been blown to pieces in short order, and the Blue Suns heavy battle-suits sent in to support the tank strike hadn't fared much better.

The Collectors led the assault with a bunch of what looked like to Cole's untrained eyes, goddamned zombies. Shambolic fuckups, wearing worn-out clothing over pasty-gray and dessicated skin, with sunken eyeholes filled with blue light. They ran fast and a single burst from the Avenger rifles some of his marine's had wasn't enough to put one down.

Cole had ordered short, targeted bursts to the legs and the use of grenades, while the Suns had opened up with Spear of Athame plasma rifles that hit a lot harder than his weapons. For a short while, they'd dropped dozens upon dozens of the zombies, but were eventually swarmed, the things closing in to grapple, electrocute, and choke their victims.

The Crossfire was always poor at melee-range fighting. Luckily, Cole's father had always drilled him to carry a shotgun at all times, and he'd done the same to his Marines. Even so, with Collectors flitting about blowing people in half, and the lines being borne under a tide of gray things, he figured his time was about up.

He put his shotgun into the face of one of the zombie-things, blowing its head clean off and killing two more behind it, before four of them leap-tackled him, crackling with electricity. His armor smoked and he screamed as they knocked him down, although he managed to fling one off through sheer hysterical strength.

Ice-cold fingers wrapped around the armor at his throat, squeezing hard enough the metal began to deform. In his flickering vision he saw men go down, screaming - some fell back in terror, the Blue Suns mercs already running.

A flash of red and black crossed his vision and the corpse-thing atop him was flung away. A stream of fire erupted, setting several more ablaze, thrashing about crazily and scattering. Cole sat up gingerly, reaching for his weapon as he stared at the grim features of Commissar Jiong, neural mace in one hand and flamer in the other.

A pair of Collectors rushed in, firing, but Jiong simply sidestepped out of the way with blinding speed, dropping his flamer to pull out his oversized Zeus III heavy pistol, which roared twice as he fired. The Collector to Cole's left shrieked and fell from the sky clutching its shattered face, and the other one dove, a long and lethal looking chitinous spike on the end of its weapon slashing at the Commissar.

Jiong smoothly parried the heavy blow, and then brought his mace down in a split-second strike, crushing the creature's skull, sending it to the ground in a crumpled heap. A second later and biotic fire wreathed it, making it thrash about before Jiong put three more shots into it.

He turned to the frightened handful of militiamen, remaining Marines, and Blue Suns mercs, his expression hard, greatcoat torn and bloodied, and his voice was like iron.

"These things are not demons or gods. They are not invincible. They can be hurt, they can bleed, they can _die_. You are the only defense the innocent people inside the city have - the only thing stopping these monsters from turning off the defenses and slaughtering these helpless families, burning their homes."

One of the Blue Suns mercs, a grimacing salarian, shook his head in despair. "They're too powerful!"

Jiong snorted. "They are no such thing." Even as he spoke, black and gold ships swung down from above, launching missiles as they came, incinerating a band of Collectors headed toward the city proper. "...You see? They burn. They scream. They _are not invincible_."

He swapped the heat sink on his pistol and set himself into cover. "There is no retreat - for there is nowhere to run and be safe. It may be we are all to die. But you are able to choose the manner in which you do so. If you are to die, then at least die on your feet. Die with a weapon in your hands, die with vengeance and defiance on your lips."

He glanced back, looking at the one turian among the Blue Suns. "Die for a cause."

The turian grunted thoughtfully, and nodded. "But how do we fight them if a single shot will kill us?"

Cole snorted. "Stay low, stay mobile. Don't get hit. Try to catch the bastards in a crossfire when you can." He glanced at his own Marines. "Vhael, Smith, Cordoba - there's a Typhoon in a kit on the far side of the tower. Let's get it set up and dig in. Perkins, see if you can't hack your drop kit to project a heavier kinetic barrier." He took a deep breath. "Eyes downrange, fingers on the triggers, and we'll all go home when this is over."

Jiong smiled thinly as the soldiers grimly began to dig in, even as more hordes of husks appeared on the horizon. He picked up his flamer, checking the fuel level before holstering his pistol and taking it in both hands. His mind was troubled.

Husks meant the Reapers were involved. He'd not thought much on that issue, even after seeing them on the video from Freedom's Progress. But now, staring at the broken corpses scattered about on the ground, the ugly reality of it all hit him.

As he watched another one of the Butcher's ships drop a heavy tank off to the ground, he only hoped this Butcher could live up to her reputation and namesake, or, despite his brave words, there would be no triumphant ending to this day.

**O-TWCD-O**

The inside of the HAMRHEAD tank was cramped, which was, in part, by design of the SA, who envisioned it as a dedicated armored fighting vehicle, not a transport. In the heavy armor Shepard wore, it was almost too tight to fit, but she'd made it.

Now as the ship soared toward the drop-off, she gave one final go-over of the plan in her head – such as it was. They'd only had the time it took to leave her base of operations and transit here to plan, but Shepard had already decided some of how to react to any Collector invasion.

Her primary concerns were keeping her people physically safe, gathering Collector information, and not letting the cat out of the bag about her - and now Garrus's - true identities, and to a lesser degree the rest of her people. She'd instructed her Marines to use only shortened forms of their first names on the comm-link, and discovered Garrus's team already had nicknames they used to keep comms security.

Grunt's identity was secure, and she decided to amuse herself by referring to Zaeed as 'old man'.

Vigil's ships had lead the charge into the system, driving back the Collectors where they could. They'd arrived too late to save most of her former Battle Group, however. The _Kazan _was a burning wreck, but still fighting hard, although the portside battery was destroyed and it was missing an engine. Two destroyers were barely moving, one mostly undamaged except for the engines, while the other had lost all life support but was still putting up steady fire. The battle group's frigates were all destroyed. If Delacor had deployed the _Kazan's _small fighter wing, they were almost certainly shot out of the sky by the swarms of spherical drones buzzing through space.

The Collectors had not won without a cost, though. Hundreds of drone wrecks littered space. The large, cylindrical cruiser was smoking in multiple places, huge glowing craters blasted clean through the hull in several locations. One of the longer ships, which Vigil identified as a drone carrier, was totally wrecked and burning from stem to stern, and several other smaller ships had been destroyed.

Vigil surmised the Collectors only had a tiny handful of the muon-packet missiles that had so cleanly taken out one of the Butcher's frigates, and had been choosing to use more normal weapons against Delacor. Why they lacked larger amounts of such weapons was something they'd think on later, but it was clear they had not expected her fleet to show up.

Landing on the planet and stopping the Collectors there... that would be trickier.

The first problem, dealing with the stasis-inducing swarm drones, was the most concerning to her. Mordin Solus, working with Vigil, had created a signal that Vigil claimed would confuse and misdirect the swarm creatures that inflicted stasis on humans and also prevent them from attacking the alien members of the team. It relied on spoofing old Prothean pheromonal commands based on Vigil's understanding of how the Protheans controlled the devices.

But there had been no chance to test its effectiveness – they had no samples of the current version being used. While Solus was certain it would protect non-humans when paired with pulse disruption devices, for humans the results were still hypothetical.

Thus, Shepard had decided to play it safe. Given her own biotics and the fact she was a lot stronger and faster than any other human, she planned to drop to the ground in the hovertank, which would also be manned by Angel and Sergeant Ownby. She would exit the tank and see if the countermeasures worked before allowing the rest of her force to drop.

If it didn't, she could always defend herself with a biotic field - a barrier, maybe a wall. Although the length of time she could keep it up was not a sure thing, it would certainly last long enough for her to get back to the tank. The HAMRHEAD's sealed environmental cabin would protect Angel and Ownby from any of the bugs.

The second and more pressing problem was the horde of enemies they had to fight. Early scans by Vigil's ships fighting the Collectors showed several enemy types - thousands of husks, a large number of Collectors, and a small handful of fucked up looking _things _they had no clear ID on. Some were almost nine feet tall, misshapen and lumbering humanoids that looked like a pile of husks fused together and slapped into armor. Others were crawling things that were like giant centipedes with weapons systems implanted across their backs.

They knew that the husks could stun humans with electrical charges, and the Collector weapons - particle beams - made a mockery out of both kinetic barriers and armor. But what other tricks the Collectors might have was unknown, which made her nervous. Vigil had dropped over five hundred war robots into the mess below, just before the _Normandy _had hit the mass relay along with her support ships - so far, the only nasty tricks they'd learned about was that all Collectors could fly, and that they could laugh off small arms fire from lesser weapons like Avengers and most pistols and light rifles.

She hoped that was the only surprise they had in store for her team.

She tapped her omni-tool as the _Normandy _screamed past the naval action toward the planet's surface. "All teams, this is Butcher. From here on out maintain strict radio discipline. Once we hit the planet's surface, don't use my name or Garrus's - use Butcher and Archangel if you must. Everyone else - abbreviated first names only. I doubt any Alliance people will be listening, but it's not the time to be sloppy."

She took a breath. "As for the Collectors, you all heard Vigil's briefing. Once we get on the ground, shut off the VI routine on your weapons. Don't trust your comms - Vigil isn't sure if they can crack it or not - and kill your suit VI, the Collectors can, and will, hack it. Makes deploying medi-gel a pain, but it's better than your shit blowing up around you."

"We're dropping near Crash Landing, the capital. Vigil says two other cities have been overrun and a third totally destroyed, so there's no point trying to rescue them. We hit hard enough to drive the Collectors back, and then link up with Delacor's people on the ground, if he has any, to secure the GTS sites."

She took a deep breath. "Miranda's team is medical support, but their primary goal is _samples _– Collector corpses, samples of the Servility Devices, and if possible Collector weapons and armor systems. Our overall goal is to try to drive the Collectors back, _not_ save people – as cold as that sounds, we don't have the lift or capacity to evacuate people from Horizon, and even if we did we could only save a few hundred at best. I'm banking that if we can cripple the remaining ships and kill their ground forces, they'll draw back and cut their losses."

She held on tightly as the _Normandy _began slicing through atmosphere. "I'm leading Team One – Grunt, Zaeed, the tank guys here with me, and the DACT. Garrus, you're leading Team Two – Mierin, Sidonis, Tali, Kiala, Jack, and Dost. Taylor, you're BDO for the _Normandy _boys as Team Three. Miranda is Team Four."

She paused. "Team One lands first, and I'll test out the field Mordin came up with. If it doesn't work, then we'll modify the teams. If it does, we're a go for what we already planned. Team One will punch through the main body of the Collector lines to reinforce the secondary GTS control station. Team Two will flank and cover Team Four, and provide heavy support – biotics, drones, sniping – while making their way toward the primary GTS station. Team Three will augment the main defensive line at the colony tower. Team Four will cover the east side near the primary GTS control tower, where it looks like the most Collectors have already fallen and some people have been put in some kind of caskets."

The _Normandy _bucked and she slapped her helmet controls. "With the exception of the DACT, we're going in shuttles so we can clear out in a hurry if things go bad. They've shifted all GTS controls to those last two comm centers, so if the Collectors take them out then things will go to hell. Don't let that happen."

"Senior Chief Vega? Get the show on the road, Cole-style, if you would."

The Hispanic's voice came across the comms with a chuckle. "_Marines, as the Master Chief would say, it is time to fuck up some bugs. Tell me, apes, are you _hot_?"_

The Marines roared in unison. "_HOT, LOCKED, AND READY TO ROCK, SIR!"_

"_Ma'am, the detachment is ready, and unfortunately all out of bubblegum."_

The cargo bay doors split open, and Angel gunned the accelerator of the tank, sending it screaming down the ramp. Shepard tapped the control panel in front of her, bringing up the missile armament, while Ownby manned the main gun, which immediately fired on a group of Collectors.

The blast shredded three and sent the rest flying away. A few recovered in mid-air, wings flapping angrily as they returned fire. Greenish blasts slammed into the tank, making displays flash red here and there.

"Mother of God. There's twenty centimeters of flash-forged titanium on this bitch and they just holed us with a fucking rifle! What are these things?" Angel's voice was strained as he slammed the tank into an evasive slide, while Ownby fired again, taking down another group of Collectors.

Shepard grimaced. "They can die, but they hit hard. Get us behind that ridge so I can test this shield thing out, and then fire for effect. The DACT will come down hot in a few more seconds." She popped up out of the tank and triggered the device on her belt.

A pack of the swarming insect-like things approached her, bobbing in the air, then soaring overhead as if she wasn't even there. Shepard grinned. "Looks like our shielding trick works, boys and girls. Commence landing ops, and keep to the plan."

Angel slewed the tank off at an angle as a shuttle touched down, disgorging Grunt and Zaeed, even as the DACT thundered to the ground, landing heavily and bringing up their heavy weapons. Grunt's wide eyes flickered around the area even as the shuttle took off, while Zaeed immediately shifted Jessie into a heavy-weapons configuration.

Shepard drew her Harrier and sighted in on the secondary GTS control tower, under heavy assault already. "Grunt, no charging - stick with me. Old man, flank me. Angel, cover our approach with the tank. Jump lunatics, come down in a DFA at the edge of the Collector lines and I'll take it from there."

Florez's armored head dipped as he prepped the BRKR cannon in his hands. "Time to get vertical, bro." WIth a roar of mass effect jets the two DACT launched themselves into the air, angling down to crash into the Collectors using a low ridge of rock for cover as they fired at the GTS control tower.

Shepard broke into a run, shifting all her power to reflexes. The only safety against particle beams was to dodge them and throw off their aim, after all. She wasn't sure how well Grunt would do at dodging, but Mordin was confident the young krogan could literally regenerate the damage to a degree that would make it ultimately irrelevant.

She saw Collectors lifting their weapons in the distance, and did a rolling slide into cover. She needed to snipe some of them down - blindly closing with an enemy with one-hit kill weapons was the epitome of stupid.

She lifted the custom-fitted sniper from her back, wishing she still had the exquisite rifle Ahern had given her on Pinnacle. Tapping her omni-tool to generate a sloppy visual omni-drone to act as spotter, she winced as Grunt continued to draw their fire. At least he had listened to her - even as they shot at him, rather than charge blindly he ducked behind what looked like a shattered landing shuttle, still on fire within.

Zaeed howled curses as a beam of green light lashed his leg, tumbling to the ground. He rolled with the fall even as he fired, heavy blasts roaring out A Collector was broken in half at the waist by the third shot, another one had its upper torso hollowed out, sprays of yellowish burning gore flung into the faces of its fellows.

Shepard's drone sighted her targets, and she locked the images into her automatic targeting systems linked to her eyes. She popped up out of cover fast, shooting as rapidly as she could, letting the autonomic controls do most of the fine aiming.

Four shots barked out in under a second, impossibly fast for a normal human. Two Collectors died before they even realized they were under fire, taking headshots and collapsing instantly. A third was struck by a glancing shot to the throat, tearing away a strip of brownish material to reveal pale gray skin before her fourth shot corrected her mistake, taking out one of its glowing yellow eyes.

A larger Collector, this one wearing black robes over his form, lifted a much heavier, larger weapon, firing it in her direction. She didn't even wait for him to pull the trigger before she kanquessed. She emerged from it to see an explosion behind her, as a ragged stream of pale gold bolts tore through where she had been.

"What is that shit?" she vocalized to the open comm-link she kept with Vigil.

The machine's voice sounded almost strangled. "_Badly implemented Inusannon technology, re-purposed by those pheremonal Prothean hacks into a heavy weapon. Those are hyper particles - if you get hit, primitive, nothing can save you."_

"Great, more super weapons."

Vigil's voice took on a worried note. "_Hardly. These aren't even as powerful as military weapons were in the Prothean Empire. The closest equivalent would be civilian hunting weapons. Or perhaps light militia weapons - a Shear-class rifle could fire much further and longer. This is not even a military assault, they just planned to walk in here and take everyone without resistance."_

Shepard watched as Angel slewed the tank around wreckage while Ownby drove the husks back with snapshots. "Fine. Grunt, I need their flank broken - old man, we go in hot on three, full auto sweep. Keep them pinned for Grunt to close range."

Zaeed snorted. "_Fucking lovely." _He sniffed over the comm-link, muttering under his breath "_Level six."_

Shepard arched an eyebrow. "Six, old man?"

"_Six, you crazy bitch. Show this pile of guddamned bugs I'm nothing to be fucked with. Let's get to it, Butcher, not getting any younger over here."_

She nodded, hurling a heavy blast of warp energy before moving to her right. As she expected, the bigger Collector in back countered it with biotics of its own, green rather than blue. The interaction of the two fields resulted in a biotic explosion that sent bits of terrain and loose rubble and trash flying in all directions, as well as dust.

Grunt moved ahead, crouched low, shotgun lifted, even as Ownby fired more shots wildly into the mass of enemies. The Collectors were now in a crossfire between the marines and Blue Suns at the tower and Shepard's team, and were clearly unhappy.

Two of them leapt into the sky, angling for sniper shots from above. Zaeed lifted his weapon, now with a large, expanded central chamber. "Got this idea from a job I did on V'Tas IX." The converted weapon spat a compressed plasma ball, badly stabilized and leaving a trail of ions as it whizzed through the air.

It hit the leading Collector in the chest, splashing as whatever held it together destabilized. Plasma flashed and one of the weapons of the insect warrior cooked off from the blast, exploding in turn.

That explosion - an ugly, twisting blast of green that reminded her of what happened when Okeer's pet had broken its built-in weapons - lashed out in all directions with bright sprays of green light. Several Collectors were struck and instantly killed by this, and then Grunt roared.

The youth performed a titanic running leap, slamming into the backs of three unsuspecting Collectors. One went down, broken in half by the weight of the krogan, and another one died when Grunt stomped on its head. The third, larger than the other two and also dressed in black, got to its feet and caught the wild krogan's follow-up punch with one hand, stopping it and making Grunt's eyes widen in respect.

Shepard frowned and fired her sniper rifle at the creature, putting a round in its head. Grunt shook it off and fired his shotgun at point blank range at the other Collectors now scrambling for cover. Six of them were hit by the cone of green light, and all six died on the spot.

The bigger Collector at the back who'd stopped Shepard's biotics flung some of its own, heavy green fields slamming into Grunt hard enough to send even his massive form crashing to the ground.

It lifted the heavy weapon to fire, and Shepard gritted her teeth. Dropping her sniper, she vaulted her cover and flew into the kanquess, slamming into the towering being and knocking it away with a hastily blown nova. It tumbled to a kneeling stance, some fifteen feet away.

"Grunt! Fall back!" She placed herself between the big Collector and the disoriented krogan, and he obeyed her instinctively as he stumbled away, shaking his head to clear it. The Collector got to its feet, black robes shrouding it, and tossed away the heavy gun as it spoke in a grating, vibrating baritone, its accent harsh and cold.

"To interfere with the Ascendance is death." It glowed green, hands lifting as it flung biotic fire at her, a wave of warpfire ten feet tall and almost as wide.

Shepard knelt, channeling the Wall of Athame around her, letting the energy sheet off to either side. Ownby slung the tank around and fired the main gun at the Collector, but the heavy blast simply bounced off its barrier.

"_Hell, that thing just bounced a tank round, Boss Lady._" Ownby's voice sounded a touch alarmed, and she couldn't blame him, but it was useful as it gave her a baseline for the big asshole's power level.

Shepard broke her Shield with a nasty trick Trellani had shown her, redirecting most of the warp fire back in the direction of the Collector. It blocked it in turn, stepping back a few paces as the biotic rebound faded, then glared at her. Up close, the thing's black robes were covered in barely visible green designs - ones that reminded her of the stuff on Okeer's armor.

Shepard let her hands fall, still in a half-crouch. "You seem to suck ass at killing me, bug-man."

The Collector's left hand formed a loose fist, and green light erupted, shifting and then hardening somehow into a single long shaft of green crystal. "You will make a fascinating addition to the Study, mortal."

It moved forward with surprising speed for something well over eight feet tall, and Shepard kanquessed to one side before it could slash her with the crystalline weapon. She was surprised to see the thing use a sword, but then again at such close range its big gun wouldn't do it much good.

Normally she'd pull her ODIN or Sunfire at this range, but seeing the thing's barrier block a tank blast showed that to be pointless. She instead came to her full height, drawing the warp sword and holding it in the first stance of the Dancer's Poise. "You know, the last time a Reaper fucker tried to kill me, he got his ass blown to hell. Recognize the metal?"

The Collector's eyes shifted from circular to squarish, and its voice was raspy with clear anger. "You dare defile the body of the Ascended? Miserable thing, I will burn your world of Thessia to ashes for this insult!"

It dashed forwards, swinging the blade, and Shepard circled back, parrying it with a sideswipe. She saw the biotic fire of her own blade snuff out as the green crystal hit it, and grimaced at the recoil of the contact of the block - not as bad as parrying Okeer's hammer, but the thing was very strong.

The Collector swung again,and she tried a second-stage move, blocking the blade and using her momentum to swing around in reverse, forcing more warp energy into it after the blade rebounded. The black sword slashed deeply into the Collector, drawing a cry of pain and seeping yellow fluids.

Then it raised its sword above its left shoulder, a telegraphed move that immediately betrayed the lack of training to the education Trellani had imprinted in her mind. _Eroding tide around the cliff_ whispered the fallen matriarch in her mind.

She blocked with a rising counter-cut, her off-hand on the forte of her sword and safely channeled away the momentum of the strike, before imparting a Throw through the blade to score a deep, vertical gash in the Collector's chest.

She was about to push her sword deeper when the Collector, wreathed in green, put the palm of his hand on her chest and pushed her away. She rolled with it, coming up in a cross-block, but the Collector pulsed its biotics instead of charging her again, a lift field sending her stumbling, and then leapt through the air, driving down with the blade.

She sighed at the thing's lack of insight and kanquessed in mid-air, coming out behind the Collector as it landed heavily, burying the crystal blade deep into the ground where she had been. She wasted no time, throwing herself into a full extension lunge, the sword crunching through the Collector's back. Then shifting all her power systems from speed to strength, she tore the weapon upwards, black metal and blue flames cutting unnatural flesh and bone as the blade erupted through the creature's head.

It collapsed immediately, the greenish crystal weapon evaporating into green biotic fire, and she stabbed it again for good measure. Coming back to her feet, she glanced around. Her DACT landed in the distance, having crushed the last few flying Collectors, and the tank fired a last pair of rounds at a group of husks, finishing them off.

The remaining Collectors that had survived being flanked, run over or blasted apart had fallen back, but in the distance, more husks were now slowly headed towards the control tower. She sheathed her weapon and trotted over to where Grunt was standing. "You okay, big guy?"

The blue eyes found hers, and he nodded slowly. "Yes. That thing was stronger than I expected. And I begin to see why you told me not to charge - those weapons hurt." She saw several blackened streaks and holes in the armor he wore where he'd been hit.

"You did good, Grunt. That last big fucker was a biotic, though, and those are always a problem." She glanced up as the tank rolled up, turret slowly turning before firing a blast at the approaching husks, shredding them. "For now, find some cover near the tower."

She tapped her comm-link. "Angel, move back the tank towards that rise near the stone outcropping fifty meters east - that keeps your hull down to the enemy coming from the west and allows you to cover our rear. Old Man, with me." She glanced at the tower, where a very familiar man in a somewhat battered black long coat stood slowly, pulling his hat off as he did so.

Zaeed's voice was laced with irony. "_Wonderful, a fucking Commissar."_

She walked slowly towards the tower, pausing along the way to pick up her sniper, and as she drew closer she saw the big form of Tyrone Cole, wiping something off of his helmet visor, his Crossfire rifle on the wall next to him. Dead militia and Marines littered the ground, along with a few Blue Suns, but more than half of the defenders had survived.

A line of GTS trucks was smoldering in the distance, and the small, rounded forms of volus were scattered here and there. She was a bit surprised to see that, given the usual aversion volus had towards war and violence, but then remembered Marshal Marr and wondered if these were military volus.

Zaeed arrived at her side as she mused, and Jiong came to a halt about ten feet in front of her. She took in his appearance - he looked tired, strained, and somehow less sure of himself than she remembered.

She kept her voice cool and neutral, striving to sound 'asari'. "Greetings, Commissar." She internally triggered the high-level translation VI in the armor - Trellani's idea - and spoke to the group of Blue Suns asari to one side in High Asaric. "And greetings unto you, sisters. I fear this is no time for courtesy, but I rejoice in your safety."

One of the asari with feral-looking marks on her face grinned. "Greetings, war-sister."

Jiong eyed them and then spoke, interrupting. "I regret the need to interrupt your ritual greetings, but the situation remains dire. I presume you are the one known as the Butcher?"

She nodded. "Indeed, Commissar. We have watched the border worlds closely since the abduction at Freedom's Progress, and arrived as soon as possible to drive the Collectors back."

His jaw twitched. "I see." He seemed to struggle with something internally before speaking again. "We still have a large number of civilians trapped in shelters and the colony towers of the city. Do you have means to evacuate them?"

She shook her head. "Sadly, I do not. My people believe that inflicting enough damage on the Collectors will drive them off."

Jiong arched an eyebrow and spoke in a sarcastic tone. "And by 'your people' you mean Cerberus, yes?"

She laughed. "It is but a name, Commissar." She was going to continue, but Zaeed tapped her shoulder.

"Not to be a guddamned downer, but more fucking zombies and bugs are incoming. A lot more. I think you pissed them the fuck off."

She snorted. "I'm not impressed with them so far." She turned to face Jiong. "Commissar, I would not presume to command you or your people, nor yours, sister." She nodded at the asari in charge of the Blue Suns group. "However, I would strongly suggest digging in and letting my people do the heavy fighting."

Cole shrugged. "Your call, sir, but- " He gestured to the broken Collector corpses on the ground. "We'd be better off fighting with her than against her."

Jiong nodded sourly, placing his cap back on his head. "We will have further words once we have crushed the Collectors, then. Your assistance would be welcome."

Shepard smiled. It was good to see some of her people again, even in such crappy circumstances. "It would be an honor, cousin."

**O-TWCD-O**

Delacor stared bitterly at the combat plot - the part of it that was functional - in the dimly lit room. His bridge had been blown apart, and he was in the secondary command room, near engineering. The only living member of his bridge team, Ensign Li An, was slumped in the pilot seat, bleeding out slowly from shrapnel in her leg and stomach, gritting her teeth as she continued to pilot.

The initial fight had gone well, the _Kazan's _Kyle-class torpedoes crushing two of the enemy's frigate-sized ships. When the Collector cruiser had shaken off the first torpedo hit, though, he'd been unprepared for rapid counter fire. The entire bridge had been destroyed. The other pilot, Helmsley, was in pieces on the remains of what used to be the bridge. The navigator had been incinerated, and most of his command staff, except Traynor, were either dead or crippled. The comm officer had been lucky in avoiding serious injuries.

She'd helped them both get to the emergency bridge, and was now trying to act as a damage control officer in Engineering. It was a hopeless task.

The _Kazan _was dying.

Half his crew was dead, his torpedo tubes were jammed, and medical had been breached to space, killing his entire medical staff and the wounded being treated there. The core was at barely thirty-nine percent stability, with two broken framing elements and a plasma fire that couldn't be extinguished. His fighter wing was gone, the _Kazan _had lost an engine and had two more that were barely functional, and now the life support had failed.

The old girl could still fight - if barely. The arrival of the black and gold ships Delacor recognized from intel pictures as the Butcher's fleet had surprised him. They'd stormed out of nowhere, not even showing up on sensors until they swept past his ships in a V-shaped formation. Six frigates had acted to block incoming attacks from the cruiser against the _Kazan_, while nine more and some destroyer-sized ships opened up in slashing patterns of torpedoes and heavy guns.

The Butcher's crews and captains must have had ice-water for blood - they ignored counterfire as if it didn't matter, and even as their ships were holed and destroyed did not stop firing. They would only stop when completely blown to pieces - and in an act of insane bravery that would have done the Solguard proud, had ultimately crippled the first Collector carrier by firing their entire torpedo loads point-blank at the ship before ramming it at full speed, tearing the ship apart as their cores exploded.

Even now they fought on against the Collector cruiser, heavier ships finally joining the fight, and he watched in grim awe as yet another of the Butcher's ships kamikazed against the cruiser after being shot stem to stern with the heavy golden beams instead of standing off to abandon ship or wait for rescue.

What kind of maniacs did the Butcher have _manning _these ships?

For all their bravery, however, it didn't truly matter. A second Collector ship, a large carrier like the first, had come out of solar north, shielded from his admittedly damaged sensors by the sun's glare. It had much heavier weapons than the cruiser, and a horde of the orb-shaped combat drones that had wrecked his own ships.

The Butcher's people were brave. But as he watched the form of the second Collector carrier vomit out hundreds of combat drones, he figured bravery didn't matter much. Even if they won this fight outright - he figured his time was about up.

Delacor coughed, wiping blood from his lips. The hit that had taken out the bridge and nearly killed his XO had almost gutted him – his legs and torso were full of shrapnel, and a segment of hull had slammed into his chest, breaking at least three ribs. With a body full of shrapnel and a gut-wound wide enough to stick his hand in, he didn't imagine this was something he could just walk off, unlike the many other injuries in his long career.

The only reason he wasn't a pile of shredded meat on the ground was the Spectre armor he'd worn down to the planet's surface. Even so, it wouldn't keep him alive much longer- the medical systems aboard had been wrecked by the hit he'd taken.

He glanced to the left, where the injured face of Commissar Jiong scowled at him from the comm relay screen. "Commissar, status on the ground?" In the background he could see the surface of Horizon, burning buildings in the background, the image distorted by static and flickers from whatever the Collectors were doing to prevent transmissions.

Jiong took a pained breath, his uniform blackened from some explosions, his handsome features splashed with blood. "_Not good. Squad Alpha and Beta under Cole were pinned at GTS Command Two with the GTS trucks. The trucks are gone; Cole fell back to the command center. He's lost over half his Marines and most of the Blue Suns and militia with him. I'm still at the city gates with the bulk of the Blue Suns forces and what militia heavies remain."_

Jiong paused, wiping his forehead, then grimaced. "_Williams... we lost contact, sir. She was at Command One which is being hit hard, but the Butcher's robots and forces seem to be headed that way."_

Delacor nodded, watching as the Butcher's ships engaged the incoming carrier, wincing as two more frigates were blown out of the sky. He glanced at the haptic screen and told Jiong, "It doesn't look good up here, Commissar. The _Kazan _is barely working, and we've lost medical and life support. The Butcher's attack has at least cleared the bastards away from us, so while we have the chance, I'm going to abandon ship and have the escape pods set to immediate FTL. The crew will get clear of this mess - once that's done, I'll take out that carrier."

Jiong arched an eyebrow. "_And how will you do that, Captain?"_

In the distance an explosion sounded and the Spectre saw a pillar of smoke and fire raise somewhere behind the commissar. Jiong didn't even spare it a glance, nor did his face twitch; his full focus was on the comm transmission.

Delacor squared his shoulders, despite the pain that caused him. "Shepard isn't the only one who can go down fighting. If I ram this bitch into that carrier, it should take us both down."

The image on the screen was thready and lines of static and signal interference bisected the commissar's face every so often. Jiong was silent for long seconds, before sighing. "_Your position is not hopeless. You can still_—"

"Jiong, I've been in enough fights to know when I'm not going to make it. I've got half a hull spar shoved through my guts and rib fragments in my lung. And the _Kazan _is a burning wreck." He coughed again, wiping a dribble of blood away. "Medical faculties down there are going to be beyond overloaded, and I sorta doubt the Butcher is going to make saving my life a priority with Collectors everywhere."

Jiong's voice was quiet. "_I see. That would have killed a lesser man, or even a Commissar. Iron Man, indeed."_ Jiong took a deep breath, then flinched as something exploded. "_The carrier is their last functional heavy; if you can kill it then we surely will triumph. I will commend your spirit and bravery to the High Lords of Sol, Captain. Repensum est canicula."_

Delacor nodded, pleased to at last hear respect in the man's voice. "Even my shitty luck had to run out sometime, Commissar." He paused. "Tell Williams she's a damned good soldier, and I'm sorry I ever doubted that. I recommend she be brevetted to Lieutenant Commander." He coughed again. "Now go."

Jiong gave him a single, respectful nod and killed the signal, and Delacor leaned back in the seat as a spasm of pain shot through him. His fist clenched as he mastered it, then tapped the control on his command chair.

"All hands, this is the Captain. Abandon ship. Proceed to the escape pods, I'm overriding the VI for immediate FTL launch. This ship is going down, and you don't want to be on it when it does. XO Durand is injured and being carried to the mid-deck escape pods, she's in charge if she awakes, if not Lieutenant Traynor is in charge. It has been an honor and a pleasure."

He clicked off, and engaged the VI. That it had not succumbed to the torrent of cyberwarfare attacks hurled at the _Kazan _thus far was mostly due to disconnecting the core from the transmission relays. "VI. Ship status."

"Shields at eleven percent and failing. Fires on decks two, three, five, and six. Hydroponics destroyed. Medical destroyed. Life Support destroyed. Forward battery malfunction. Starboard battery functional. Port battery destroyed. Heat Control systems destroyed. Hull at thirty-two percent integrity. Ship will lose habitability rating for human life in twenty seven minutes. Recommend abandon ship."

He nodded, glancing around the nearly empty room, and took a deep breath as his eyes fell on Li An. "Ensign..."

She half-turned, her face a pale mask of determination, one eye torn out by flying shrapnel. "If I try to move from this seat, sir, I'm pretty sure my guts will fall out, even if I could walk." She gave a ghost of a smile. "Besides, I've seen you in the sims, you can't pilot for shit."

He managed a laugh at that. "Alright, Sana. Take us around toward the fat bastard, maximum rated speed... or whatever the old girl can give us." He glanced upwards. "VI, transfer ops controls and weapons to my console. Arm core overload sequence and scuttling charges, authorization December-Bravo-Six-Six-Zulu-Romeo-November."

"Authorization granted. Charges set. Warning. Nineteen percent of charges not armed due to damage. Forward battery escape pods not engaged. Three life signs detected."

He frowned and tapped the comms. "Forward battery, report."

The tired voice of one of the torpedomen answered. "_Conn, forward battery, Chief Garza here. Our escape pod is smashed, same hit that jammed the launch racks. And the exit corridor is full of plasma fire, sir. Petty Officer Danea is pinned by wreckage. We're not getting out of this one."_

Delacor leaned back. "...Do we have any torpedoes left?"

"_Yes, sir. Two Kyles, and twelve M/AM."_

He gave a faint, sardonic smile. "Set the fuses to .01, sequence impact detonation."

There was a long pause, and then laughter. "_Ramming, then? Least it'll be quick. Understood, sir. Setting to blow on impact and we'll see you in Hell."_

A wash of pain fell over him, but he ignored it and glared at the hated image of the Collector carrier on the plot, watching as it blasted apart another one of the Butcher's ships. "VI, redirect all power to engines and forward nav deflector." He coughed and tasted more blood in his mouth. "Li An, set course One-One-Seven Mark-Six Tac Two."

"Course set, sir." She coughed up something on her console and wiped it away absently with her uniform sleeve. "You'd think the fucking BuShips would have put medi-gel in the emergency command center."

He gave a grim smile. "BuShips planners never have a combat TAB, Ensign." He glanced at the status board, then cursed as it was dark. "VI, status of escape pods?"

"Forty-nine percent of pods launched. Life signs detected in Forward Battery. All other life signs have successfully evacuated. Alliance Naval regulation one-one-six dash—"

He killed the audio, and smiled as he leaned back in his seat, feeling the ship shudder under him, wounded and dying but still game. Li An's hands were sluggish but still sure as she piloted the wounded cruiser forward, even as she began to hum the strains of 'By the Solguard's Light'.

He was amused at the sluggish turn the carrier was making, as if it could get away. Even half-wrecked, his ship would outrun that fat piece of junk. Drones slashed toward the _Kazan_, the VI firing the CIWS in desperate defense.

More hits rained down on them, but the stolid armor bands that had kept the _Kazan _from dying held together. He couldn't stop so many of the horrible things that had ruined his life. But he could at least take this bastard with him and hopefully save Horizon. Maybe that would shut Udina's fucking mouth up.

If nothing else, it would allow him to escape the creeping, eternal waking nightmare his life had turned into over the years. His musing on that was broken by the VI comms alert light flashing. He unsilenced it to hear the report.

"Communication signal detected, signal four-six-seven-alpha, Lieutenant Williams. Collector communication jamming signal strength is beginning to weaken. No video signal detected."

His bitter smile softened. "Williams... good to hear you're alive. Jiong lost contact. Status."

Her voice, he decided, was actually quite pleasant to be one of last things he was likely to listen to. "_Still up shit creek, Skipper, but at least the Butcher's given us a paddle. Crazy bitch came down in a hover tank and broke the main bug line, then got out and is fucking them up on foot. The swarms are somehow avoiding her, and she just deflected one of their big weapon blasts with some kind of biotic bullshit."_

Delacor nodded. "Get the Butcher to evacuate you if possible. And say a prayer for me, if you find the time."

"_Sir?"_

He clicked off. "VI, range to target?"

"Approximately thirty-six thousand meters, closing at one hundred twenty meters per second. Impact in two hundred ninety-five seconds." The VI paused, and then as it determined that yet again humanity would die rather than kneel, it spoke words from the Message, themselves taken from some older work. "To the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee!"

Delacor laughed quietly at the Alliance's dark and ironic choice to have the VI say such things. Li An's voice was soft and gentle as she sang, and he found himself joining in.

**O-TWCD-O**

Aboard the _Normandy_, Pressly watched the plot with no small amount of awe as the _Kazan _stubbornly refused to die, charging dead-on at the slowly turning bulk of the Collector carrier. He turned to the floating orb next to him. "Direct our heavies to finish the cruiser, and clear out the last of the ships in orbit."

Vigil's voice was unusually somber. "The human is going to suicide his ship? You people are even more determined to chase death than the Protheans were, primitive."

Pressly lifted his chin. "Maybe so. Then again, sometimes a man knows when his time is up. It's not the choice I'd have made, but that carrier's guns are heavy enough that I'd have to risk our cruisers or the _Normandy _herself to take it out." He shrugged. "Assuming he can do it, more power to him."

Vigil gave a bobbing pulse Pressly knew by now was the equivalent of a shrug. "I am more concerned at our own losses, to be honest. Our weapons systems are effective enough against the smaller ships and drones but are doing nothing much to the bigger ships. And while the Collectors on the ground are not very well equipped, these Collector ships are using full-power particle-stream weapons - we do not have the shielding to stop a direct hit from those."

Pressly nodded. "Hence all the kamikaze tactics?"

Vigil circled the plot. "The ships in question were already damaged to the point of being useless otherwise. And I am less concerned about the losses than the disparity between the quality of ships and the Collectors on the ground. It implies these ships are not their best, or even close to their best."

The sphere pulsed again. "Taking one intact may be more difficult than expected. Perhaps we should have focused on that task instead of ground combat."

Pressly shook his head. "Abandoning the people on the ground would have sent a bad message to the Council, not to mention we need more data on the Collectors to determine how to fight them once we actually do board a Collector vessel. Not to mention the whole Prothean angle."

Vigil mimicked a human snort. "Still unproven at this point, primitive." It circled. "Odd. There was a streaming data pulse coming from the surface, and now it has stopped."

Pressly glanced at Vigil. "Could you figure out what it was?"

Vigil was silent for several seconds. "I believe it was most likely some sort of instructions or guidance. Shepard may have destroyed whatever leadership the Collectors had down there."

Pressly brightened. "So things are going well."

Vigil's voice was sour. "Perhaps. Or perhaps the Collectors now know she is a _threat_."

**O-TWCD-O**

Despite all of the desperate fights on Omega, fighting in the open was something he'd lost touch with. After all, Garrus had been operating in an urban environment for the past two years. As such, he'd forgotten the visceral terror of an assault landing. Streams of weapons fire crisscrossing about in every direction, crazy course changes that flung you to-and-fro, and, of course, that moment of storming out of a landing craft and coming immediately under fire.

_At least Shepard isn't driving_, he thought sourly to himself, as the team hustled for cover. Already the brown, armored forms of Collectors approached, cresting some outlying ruined buildings and opening fire. The weapons were unlike anything he'd seen before - greenish streams of energy in coherent beams.

He tumbled and flung himself behind some kind of farm machinery, even as the shuttle took off. It got perhaps fifteen meters into the air before it was struck by multiple blasts of green fire, punching through the hull and sending it crashing back down to the ground.

Tali's voice was tense over the comm-link. "_Don't let those things hit you. We fought one of Okeer's experiments that had weapons like that - shields won't do a thing and they'll go right through whatever they hit."_

Jack sourly chimed in. "Even a close miss hurts, trust me."

To his right, hunkered down behind a shelf of rock that had been cut into in preparation for some kind of building, Sidonis shook his head, his voice laced with irony. "So, this should be an easy and wonderful little fight."

Mierin, next to Kiala and Dost, lifted her sniper rifle and fired, the shot striking an oncoming Collector in the head. Yellowish fluids sprayed out in a spurt as it collapsed with a cry, and her voice was cool and professional. "Less whining, more shooting, lover boy."

Garrus scanned the wide strip of terrain between him and his target, the primary control tower for the GARDIAN towers. He could see Miranda's team touching down further away, and decided the only approach that made sense was to keep pressure on the Collectors, to drive them away from the tower while distracting them from Miranda's people.

"Alright, move in pairs. Mier, Lover Boy, overwatch. Tal, Ki, drones and missiles, heavy suppressive fire on those Collectors. Big Man, stick with Jack and cover her - Jack use your biotics to do as much damage as you can and keep them corralled."

The human biotic gave a nod, holding a lightweight shotgun and tapping a belt full of grenades. "And you? You just gonna hang out?"

Garrus tapped the controls to his armor and went active, omni-armor panels springing up. Shepard's techs had augmented the suit somewhat, repairing damage that had accumulated over the years and plating it in a thin coat of Silaris. He figured he had the best chance of surviving a direct hit from the Collectors.

"I'm going to spit in their eye." With that he launched himself out of cover, lifting the form of the lance cannon he'd brought along. While he could always snipe, he didn't want to test how well Collector rifles could breach cover - he wanted them pulled away from their own cover so his team could hit them.

The auto-targeting reticle from his visor, now incorporated into his armor, lined up his first shot, and he let loose with the lance cannon. The compressed beam of white light hit the target dead in the chest, sending the insectile-looking creature flying backwards to land in a smoking, broken heap. He was already firing again as he triggered the jets and omni-wings, using mobility to make himself a hard target.

Six Collectors fired at him, five missing. The one shot that connected was a glancing hit, but even that blew out the omni-armor panel and vaporized a thin line across the bulky shoulder unit. He returned fire, the lance cannon's blazing impact shattering two more Collectors. He smiled as their ruined cadavers struck the ground in sprays of yellow blood and trails of smoking meat, as fragments of blasted pieces of their bodies tumbled around on the ground in all directions.

Four of the things spread gossamer-like wings and rose into the air to challenge him, and he smiled. A second later, two sniper shots rang out, taking out two of his pursuers, while biotic flames raged around a third before something pushed the burning Collector to the ground toward the others still in cover.

The biotic explosion that followed was beautiful, flinging half a dozen of the enemy in all directions and out of cover. Tali and Kiala wasted no time, drones firing sprays of mini-missiles at them. Dost joined in with heavy Revenant fire, using hammerhead rounds, carving gory craters into the front of two more Collectors before they fell back in shredded ruins.

Garrus had no time to admire the kills, though - two more airborne Collectors were coming at him, firing in short bursts. He dove into an arc, dodging streams of death, and triggered his suit's own mini-missile swarm. As expected, they didn't do too much to his pursuers, but one was staggered and turned around by the force of the blast in mid-air.

He snap-fired, blasting that one in the back. The shot crumpled the Collector, its delicate-looking wings coming apart in burning chunks of flesh and a splash of yellow fluids, screaming as it plummeted down to the ground to land in a satisfying crunching impact.

The other Collector, less affected, fired several times at him, striking the suit in the leg and lower torso. The thick bands of armor should have at least resisted the impact, but pain and shock flared through him as the shots still punched completely through the suit and his body.

He killed his flight unit, slamming down into the heavy cover of an overturned cargo hauler, having dropped his weapon in the shock of the hit. The leg hit wasn't too bad - it had gone through his cybernetic leg, and it was still working. The shot to his torso was nasty, though - cleanly cauterized, but painful as the Depths.

He tapped his omni-tool, injecting himself with stimulants, and then fished a pack of medi-gel from a small container on his thigh, pushing it into the hole left in his torso. He had no idea if that would do anything, but it was better than nothing. He pulled out an omni-gel slap-patch from another spot on the armor and slapped it over the breach, then pulled out his Talon pistol.

The Collector that had shot him soared overhead, swiveling to find a target. The coughing boom of the Talon pistol sprayed out a cone of armor-piercing flechettes that tore the thing's weapon arm right off its body, and it fell to the ground, still moving feebly.

Garrus leapt up and came down in a jet-assisted trample, the heavy stomp crushing the Collector's chest and face. He was surprised to see the brown material he thought was the Collector itself was some kind of... biological armor. Torn off by his landing, the thing's helmet had split, revealing a horribly emaciated, four-eyed face with deathly white-gray skin, strange nostrils leading to lines that traced upwards, and a mouth replaced with some kind of cybernetics feeding tube. Strange green circuit-like traceries infested the skin, and the thing's four eyes were a sick, pale yellow.

He gave the disgusting thing another stomp for good measure, then clicked his omni. "Status?"

Mierin's voice was curt and serious. "_Nine down. Four more withdrawing. Currently moving west, towards your position in good cover. These things are bad at fighting - they have really strong weapons and can take a good hit or two, but they don't employ cover properly and they don't have any other weapons."_

Kiala's voice, as always, seemed irritated. "_Don't bother with drones. The filthy k'vastar managed to hack even ours; I had to remote detonate them. Explosives work better than guns, they are not very good at dealing with concussive force or over-pressure."_

A titanic flare of blue light and a devastating explosion that made Garrus sway on his feet lit up the area to his left, and Jack's voice was full of dark excitement. "_Ha ha, fucking bugs can't handle biotics for shit! Burn, you fucking termites! Teach you to fuck with me!"_

Dost's voice was softer. "_Jack was hurt, they shot her in the knee and she can't walk, so I'm carrying her. I knew Tali said their weapons were dangerous, but holy hell..."_

Garrus nodded dryly, as he moved forward, ducking behind the relative cover of a blasted air-car, the driver still frozen by stasis inside, visible through the shattered cockpit. "I noticed." He triggered the magnification in his visor, zooming in on the control tower. "Looks like husks are swarming the tower; we'll need to hustle. Dost, bring Jack over to where I'm at. Tali, Kiala, south - Mierin, Sidonis, north. We'll pincer and meet at the tower. Move!"

The group moved out as one, moving in cover and firing to suppress enemy movement. Only a few Collectors were still in the air - many of them were falling back toward their own ships, but still fighting with ferocity.

Mierin cried out as Sidonis was hit as he moved from cover, a Collector particle blast hitting him in the left arm, which fell limp, his weapon dropping in the shock of the hit. She fired two shots, the first spinning the Collector out of its cover and the second striking it directly in the chest, killing it. Two more Collectors winged into the air to try to take out the exposed turian but were harried by a spray of homing grenades and micro-missiles from the quarian ladies.

Garrus hit his comm-link. "Jack, Lover Boy is exposed."

Jack's voice was laconic on the comm-link. "Yeah, yeah, I got it." Even as one of the Collectors fought free and fired at the turian, a blazing wall of blue energy formed in front of Sidonis. The blast struck it and it shattered, but the blast angled away crazily.

Jack was panting but sounded triumphant. "...heh, I don't even know how that works, but I'm taking credit." Garrus snorted as he put away his pistol to draw his sniper rifle - he'd lost track of where he'd dropped his lance cannon and it took too long to aim anyway.

Sidonis had dragged himself to cover and now Dost and Jack had reached him, the big human having set her down to pull out a Typhoon heavy machine gun and spray suppressing fire into the air. Garrus and Mierin fired in near-unison, shots tearing through the air to strike both Collectors and send them to the ground.

Loose packs of husks at the edge of the crowd attacking the control tower shambled forward, but Sidonis drew his Phaeston combat rifle and began laying them out with devastating accuracy. Garrus moved forward as rapidly as he could with his damaged cybernetic leg, and frowned. His approach plan to pincer the attackers at the tower had failed due to Sidonis being shot - Jack and Dost were out of position.

"Change things up. Lover Boy, dig in where you are and provide overwatch. Big Man, see if you can't fix his leg up, Jack, keep them protected. Mier and I will move ahead - quarian ladies, stay on your south approach."

Something heavy exploded to the far north, and Garrus glanced in that direction. In the distance he could see Grunt moving away from Shepard, while the DACT wheeled in the air, leaping all over the place to counter the equally mobile winged Collectors, and Zaeed was moving from cover to cover, blasting away with his weapon.

Shepard herself had run riot through the bugs and was battling one of the bigger ones in black robes in some kind of biotic fight, and the tank was busy laying down suppressive fire.

He cursed as his distraction made him not see a Collector landing behind a pinnacle of rock, and green fire scored his armor, this time missing his flesh at least. He shifted his cover, firing the heavy Widow rifle, blasting a shot right through the rock to knock the Collector from its perch. The thing gave a cry but recovered itself, landing in a roll behind a burning air-car, and continued to rake his position with fire, pinning him in place.

Jack gave a roar as husks rushed her position, and Garrus winced as a literal firestorm of blue energies radiated out in all directions for almost thirty feet. Husks were flung away and up in the air as spears of warpfire jutted out in a burst, so bright they left afterimages in the vision of his natural eye. Dozens of husks fell back to the ground on fire, and more were burning in the huge circle of now blackened ground around Jack's location.

"_Fuckin' lightweights._" Jack's voice had a sneer in it and Garrus chuckled. He turned back to the sniper pinning him in place with heavy fire, returning fire and managing to make it duck down and move into new cover. That exposed it to a shot from the north. Garrus smiled, tapping his comm-link.

"Lover Boy, I'm pinned here. A little help?"

"_Wow, even with a suit of fuck-all armor and a giant gun you can't equal up. Sure, old man._" The other turian sighted in and fired, resulting in the Collector toppling from atop its elevated perch, tumbling bonelessly down the shallow slope to land in a heap at the bottom.

Garrus tapped his comm-link, glancing about. The husks at the tower had been hit heavily with micro-missiles from Kiala and Tali, giving the defenders a chance to rally, although they were still under heavy attack. He saw Dost lift Jack once more and Sidonis limping forward, and figured one good hard push would clear the husks.

"Butcher, this is Archangel. Secondary approach is mostly clear. Preparing to clear the tower. What's our next move after that?"

Shepard's voice came across distorted by static, but understandable. "_Keep up the pressure and push any reinforcements back away from the GARDIAN control center. Doesn't look like they're paying much attention to Team Four, so keep it that way." _

Her voice hardened. "_My group is okay - although both of my DACT are pretty much out for the count due to damage - but Taylor ran into heavy opposition. Three of my marines are dead, including Chief Haln."_

Garrus shook his head, remembering the usually cheerful human male, and the battles he'd survived. "My team is okay, but both Lover Boy and Jack are severely wounded and have limited mobility. I'll comm you when we clear the tower."

Garrus clicked off and motioned Mierin to follow him, keeping in low cover. Kiala and Tali moved in from the north, somewhat ahead of them, covering themselves behind their oversized omni-shields and keeping up a steady stream of hurled grenades and micro-missiles to distract the remaining husks.

A thick scrum of the things was mobbing the defenders, although their numbers had been lessened by the attacks of the quarians. They were held back by desperate hand-to-hand fighting and wild shooting, and more than a few of the defenders were dead. Garrus tapped his comms - "Jack, clear the way. Tal and Ki, cut loose with the party favors."

Jack grimaced and hurled out a spear of biotic energy that dived toward the ground, erupting a moment later into a burning wall of warpfire that began to flare outwards. Dozens of husks burned away, more simply falling where they stood. Tali and Kiala triggered a program, generating a large incineration field, creating a wall of fire between the defenders and the husks. Most of the creatures stupidly ran into the field anyway, collapsing as they did do, as the defenders drew back.

What few husks that remained were picked off with rapid-fire by the trio of Garrus, Mierin, and Sidonis, snap-firing as the latter two ran. The last husk leapt through the wall of fire only to catch a rifle butt from a tall, heavily built Marine female, who snarled a moment later and smashed its skull with her armored foot.

She straightened a moment later, looking at Garrus and Mierin as they stood up. "Thank God you guys showed up. Lieutenant Ashley Williams, SA Marine Corps."

Garrus was never more glad for the fact that his Skytalon had a voder component, masking his true voice. "Impressive work holding your position, Lieutenant."

One of the battered militiamen looked at him in awe, at the white painted symbol on the chest of his suit. "You're the Archangel."

Garrus inclined his head, and Ashley glanced at the rest of the team, frowning a moment at the sight of quarians and an asari. "Intel said the Butcher was tied up with Cerberus, but you're mostly—" She trailed off, seeing the Cerberus insignia on Tali's shoulder and Kiala's chestplate, and Kiala laughed.

"Aliens, pr'vesta? Yes, we are. The name is about all that remains. But this is no time for talk. Ship-sister, help me set up the defense barrier and turrets. Beloved, set up your guns." She said the latter to Dost, who had walked up holding Jack and half supporting the limping Sidonis.

Mierin glanced at Garrus. "...more incoming husks. Positions?"

Garrus pointed to a pair of elevated sniper's platforms halfway up the tower, currently unmanned. "Mier, you can cover Team Four from one of those. Lover Boy can't climb with that leg, so stay down here and dig in. The quarian ladies have their own setups and Big Man will help with that. I'll go active and take out what I can from the tower top."

Mierin sketched an asari salute, while Sidonis merely shook his head. "Careful, old man. Oh, and I'm up by two on the kill count."

Garrus mock growled. "Young ass punks, thinking they're all that."

Williams abruptly laughed, and then winced. "Sorry. Nothing's funny about today, just kind of hit me."

Garrus merely nodded, turning to Tali as she approached. "You have scouting drones out?"

She nodded. Garrus noted she'd turned on her own voder, altering her voice to sound much like Kiala's, and that she had her facemask set at the darkest shade of black. That made sense - Williams would be the one person most likely to recognize Tali, although the Cerberus insignia on her arm made it pretty unlikely that she'd connect the dots.

"Telemetry is being uploaded." She grunted as she set up a portable kinetic barrier protector, even as the groaning of husks could be heard in the distance. "Collectors are falling back rapidly to the one ship they have on the ground, carrying some colonists with them. That ship has some kind of heavy artillery units near it, big black things hovering in mid-air. The war robots got incinerated trying to get close."

Garrus nodded. "Nothing we can do about that. Get set up, and call if things get too hot down here." He turned to leave, but Williams put a hand on his arm.

"Wait. I mean... look." She shook her head and held her hand up. "I'm glad you guys are helping out down here, but we need help in the space battle too. My commanding officer's about to kill himself to ram a carrier up there – can't your ships do something?"

Garrus wasn't clear on what the picture was in space – that was supposed to be managed by Pressly. "Our fleet isn't invulnerable, Lieutenant. We've already absorbed more losses than we expected in frigates alone. Our mission is simply to drive the Collectors off and gather intel."

Williams voice was sharp. "That's it? What about the people?"

He sighed. "We're not here to rescue people, either. Just to gather intel on the Collectors so we can find a way to strike at them where they are operating from – and stop more attacks like this in the future."

The expression through the clear visor of Williams's helmet twisted. "And the lives of these people don't matter?"

Garrus gritted his fangs. "Of course they do. But defending them is _your_ job. For what it's worth, you've done better than we could have expected. As for your CO, that carrier is the last big ship they have that's undamaged. If it's taken out these Collectors will probably withdraw."

He exhaled. "Now, dig your people in, and hope that the husks don't rush us again."

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard gritted her teeth as she dodged the scything arm of the abomination in front of her before slamming it away with a biotic push, followed by a strong blast of warpfire that caused a biotic explosion. It slowly came to its feet again. The heavy thing, looking like a mass of husks and gray flesh fused together under misshapen armor plates of black metal, didn't exactly have a head so much as a hump studded with writhing, faintly glowing stubs of flesh and bands of cybernetics.

It moved forward again, the heavy cannon fused to its shoulder tracking her as it fired. She rolled out of the way, the ODIN barking as it tore craters into the thing's chest and legs, and came out of her roll with a snarl, focusing her power into a singularity.

The glowing sphere shot forward, crunching through the plates of black metal and stopping the brutish monster in its tracks. It shuddered as she grit her teeth and poured more power into her singularity, remembering how its initial attack had blown a hole in her HAMRHEAD tank, killing Sergeant Ownby and seriously wounding Angel.

With a groan of tortured metal and what may have been husks screaming, it suddenly imploded, and she let the power go, the singularity destabilizing with a powerful blast of biotic energies that raged through the air for several seconds before snuffing out.

She glanced around, recovering her breath as she did so. The two DACT were still in the fight but were on the ground now, having taken too many hits and both seriously wounded, using their heavier weapons to pin back husks and counterfire on the occasional Collector. With Ownby dead the tank was little more than cover, although Angel was planning on moving from the driver's cabin to the gunner's cabin when the firefight cooled off.

Grunt gave a roar as he blasted away a rushing group of husks, the green light of his shotgun lashing out to leave nothing but dust and severed, tumbling legs behind. Zaeed was tucked into the shadow of the HAMRHEAD tank, sniping Collectors. Both of them were now littered with shallow wounds, and while Grunt's were slowly closing, Zaeed's were not. His mobility was limited and the one serious hit he took was thankfully to his cybernetic arm. That robbed him of much of the power needed to handle Jessie's heavier firing modes, though, leaving him to snipe.

Cole had taken another hit, and was now propped up against the tower in cover, firing as best he could. Jiong was literally as thick into the fighting as she was, crushing husks with his neural mace and roaring defiant SA combat slogans as he fired his flame pistol with the other hand. Seeing him in the fray had steadied the shaken morale of the remaining defenders, but it was still an ugly fight.

She watched the battered, weary figure of a Blue Suns merc, dragging along another wounded Marine to the relative safety of the comms tower. The repeated rushes of husks had made Shepard grimly admit what a terrifying weapon they were - they sucked up incoming fire, never fell back, and if they closed on you were much stronger than a human. The handful of Collectors that remained in the fight could tie up all the defenders with husks and take potshots at leisure, countered only by the sniping of Zaeed and her own occasional biotic attacks.

Still, the guns were firing away, the space battle seemed to be nearly won, and the bulk of the Collector ships were done for. The main body of the Collectors on the ground had fallen back to the single remaining grounded Collector ship with some of their husks carrying humans. Pressly had just told her the _Kazan _was going to ram the second Collector carrier, which would probably destroy it completely.

She smiled grimly as she sighted another group of husks approaching, followed by a small handful of Collectors, then frowned as one of them began to glow a dim, ugly yellow. She didn't have time to think on what that meant as the husks rushed forward, mouths open and moaning. She dropped three with her ODIN before they leapt over the makeshift cover near the tower to try to tackle her down, and ducked under the wild charge of one of them before punching the thing with all her cybernetic strength, sending it flying backwards with a crushed skull.

Zaeed shouted as he shot two more husks coming down on her, and she drew her warp sword as still more came barreling toward her. She could see masses of the damned things coming from all directions and as she cut down yet another husk heard Jiong's iron voice chanting the Litany of Hate above the sound of their moaning.

"I am the hammer, the wrath of humanity! I am the point of the spear of the Lord! I am the gauntlet protecting the innocent, the flame that burns away the criminal, the light that illuminates the darkness. I am death, I am the end!"

He crushed his mace through the skull of another husk, kicking it out of his way, and glared hard at the wave of onrushing husks. "Come and die at the hands of justice!"

Shepard shook her head at his antics, but they were keeping the marines and Blue Suns, and what few militiamen still lived, from bolting in fear. Shepard didn't like her odds if that happened, and really hoped Taylor would hurry up from the west with what remained of his squad to reinforce her.

The one Collector with glowing yellow eyes in the distance suddenly flared sun-bright, casting shadows in all directions, and Shepard wondered what the hell that meant.

Nothing good, she figured.

**O-TWCD-O**

Vnad Ishan was displeased at the reports he was receiving.

The planned assault had gone more poorly than expected, even with additional forces assigned to the strike. Every Rapture so far had gone flawlessly and not properly ensuring Freedom's Progress was cleansed of all life had not been a serious error. After all, sooner or later the natives would come to the understanding that slavers could not take worlds like Freedom's Progress without leaving evidence.

But his projections of resistance had been flawed, or he had failed to see something. The Broker had assured him Horizon would be weak - shipped malfunctioning weapons systems useless in the atmosphere, a flawed VI with a backdoor, and no real military forces. The Council Rulers had, for reasons yet unknown, sent a fleet under one of their elite warriors to protect the world.

Even that would not have been a crushing blow. The Collectors were not currently on a war footing - the weapons were mass-produced and very low power, the ships hardly more than transports with guns strapped on. Ishan had not bothered to make proper warships as there was, until now, no need.

Likewise, the ground units were not even Seekers - the force was mostly Drones, with only the Strike Overseer and a handful of the Chosen sent along as leadership. What weapons they had would be of the lowest quality, to ensure that if anything was captured it would not reveal their true technological level.

But the arrival of the one known as the Butcher had not been anticipated, and had resulted in what could only be called a resounding defeat. Thousands of Pale Guards had been wasted, all of the Seekers sent along on the mission had fallen, and most of the ships were destroyed or heavily damaged. It was all but assured that this harvest would yield far less humans for Lifeblood conversion, and even the Strike Overseer was dead.

The prey had not been cowed by the might of the People. They had fought back, even with weapons so primitive that they could not cleanly kill a Pale Guard, and they had survived. This rejection of Ascension was hardly surprising - one did not expect mortals to understand the honor they had been chosen for, one denied even to the Sethani.

But it would complicate and slow the path to Ascendance. Ishan slowing the process for his own purposes was one thing. If the Masters felt that he was not up to even suppressing these primitives, however, they might take action earlier than he expected and reveal his own plans long before he was ready.

Even worse, unified resistance shorn of fear would make completing the Process almost impossible, perhaps even requiring them to waste vast amounts of energy and biomass on building an actual war-fleet. Reflecting on his half-measures in motivating the Strike Overseer, Ishan was sorely irritated the fool was dead - he would have enjoyed personally overseeing his recycling of biomatter as punishment for unacceptable failure.

Steps had to be taken immediately to rectify the problem before it became insurmountable. A proper application of force and might would cow the primitives. For such technologically impaired cultures, they were highly advanced in understanding politics. As long as he kept the People's predations to the hinterlands, he expected little action from the Council itself, as long as the price was more than they were willing to pay.

Given how badly events on Horizon had gone, the punishment was fitting. Nothing defied the will of the Sethani, in life or in whatever passed for their current state. He paused to muse on the next steps - they had enough genetic samples from various races now, that he could bring tailoring plague agents to clear out and weaken the empires in the hinterlands of the galaxy, which had more than enough humans to provide enough Lifeblood to complete the new Lord.

Better yet, weakening such criminal cultures would probably distract the natives, inciting them to conquest and infighting over available resources. And he could also muddle the waters of wisdom with other actions - the hanar had indicated they were interested in the natives under the sway of the handful of Old Ones near the Alpha Relay. Carefully shaping events might lead to the Council deciding to act against these batarians lest they take advantage of chaos in what they called the Traverse, solving two problems with one neat ploy.

Still, there were obstacles to clear before that happened. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he focused upon the here and now. He needed additional information about the situation on Horizon, and in particular to determine the threat level of this so-called Butcher.

The Strike Overseer's last information pulse had been stating his intent to kill the Butcher, and the cessation of infopulses since then spoke to his failure at even performing that surely simple task. Ishan was almost certain that, based on the information provided by the Broker, this Butcher was little more than a front for the human group Cerberus. Even so, they knew very little about her, and she could be a threat.

Javik, after all, had nearly triumphed before falling into despair, and that one started out as little more than a simple soldier. Shepard had proven to be an incredible menace, orchestrating her efforts and managing to bring down one of the eldest Ascended. Ignoring powerful and charismatic leaders was never efficient.

Additionally, if she could be easily killed, that would aid in sending a message as well. For a race of such relative youth, humanity was surprisingly resilient - as demonstrated by the defiance of Logain in the face of the Creche. But all military forces would falter if a charismatic leader was slain, and Ishan knew the humans already found the Butcher to be inspiring.

Given his only instruments on the field of battle were already dead or dying, Ishan had no choice but to perform a lesser connection to the Ascension Protocol. He had tested this once before, and it had sufficed to grant him real-time information from half a galaxy away.

He focused his will and concentration and made the mental connection to the Godchannel creature he'd prepared for his masters to enact the Ascension Protocol. The connection itself was easy to forge, but he had to be extremely careful while using it. Being killed while still connected would only cause physical backlash to the Godchannel creature, but the mental shock would possibly kill him.

He focused, driving lances of form-thought deep into the misshapen creature's mind, and then forced his mental strength into the connection. While he certainly was no Ascended, he could still puppet one of the Drones and gain firsthand insight into the nature of the enemy - and perhaps kill this Butcher if she was exposed.

The drone in question shook as the energies filled it, forming an ansible link over tens of thousands of light-years in a second. The rush of the power would burn it out, of course, but it was only a Drone, not even sapient anymore, guided by the will of the Chosen. The Drone's body responded, stored energies expanding within it, powering the various devices and reinforcing the connection further.

His senses expanded as the Ascension Protocol took hold, albeit sluggishly. He had no Godpower to infuse the creature with unnatural strength, or to power the nanonic wiring that would make it invincible – he just needed eyes and sensors on the field.

Vnad Ishan brought to bear what sensors he could, relying on the biomechanical armor the Drone wore to generate most of the scans needed while he glanced around. Anomalies already stood out, some of them automatically recorded by the bio-armor. He ignored these and focused, finding the ravaged, broken form of the Strike Overseer on the ground in the distance.

The fool was dead, but his bioarmor had not been destroyed. Ishan triggered a data-link and downloaded the more expansive results and recordings from the leader's armor. Yellow-glowing eyes in two places in the galaxy both shifted in shape as he took in the results.

Scans of the ships flitting through the air and fighting in space were inconclusive, but within expected tolerances for technology - although at the very highest end of those expectations. What was not expected was that not a single ship of the Butcher's force had fallen to cyberwarfare attacks of any kind - and that almost all of them were generating the subtle but clear multiphase data channels associated with the Inusannon AI Vigil.

Ishan snarled. That stupid device had used the Protheans for its own purposes, then tricked them into a situation where they had no choice but surrender or death. Javik and the rest of the Avatars, including his own father, had been lost to its scheming, and now it had somehow survived.

Seeing multiple links to every ship meant the AI was either controlling the ships or at least assisting, and explained how cyberwarfare attack was a pointless tactic. The ships themselves were nothing special.

The ground forces were another story. The natives and what looked like Alliance soldiers were well within expectations, perhaps even _below _them. Many of them had been neutralized at the beginning of the fight by the swarms, along with tens of thousands of civilians. He was pleased to see at least some of them had been recovered.

The presence of asari, using biotic fields to hold back the swarms, explained why any of the natives were even capable of putting up a fight. The tactic was hardly new - slave revolts in the Sethani Empire had often run afoul of such a thing - but had not been employed by the handful of asari on other colonies they had struck.

And the humans currently finishing off the last of the husks, who all wore some form of white armor - the Butcher's soldiers - were projecting some kind of jury-rigged Severance field, protecting them from the Servility swarms. And the Swarm was equally useless against the alien members of the Butcher's group, their seeking being spoofed by the same sort of jamming that was protecting the humans.

_Clever... too clever for the natives. _Most likely, more meddling at the will of Vigil. That also explained the sudden use of biotic shielding and answered a litany of other questions about how things could have gone so poorly here.

Perhaps the Strike Overseer was not incompetent, just unfortunate.

He turned his attention to the nearest enemy combatants, finding more anomalies. The krogan was using a weapon created with some kind of lesser matrix of old Prothean shearing crystals. Such technology was something they should not have been able to master. Okeer had been given samples, and the Butcher had taken out Okeer - had he betrayed them before he died, or was this yet more of Vigil's meddling?

Locating and destroying that accursed device would be his top priority - the Ascended would be pleased if he was able to do so. He flicked his senses over each one of the defenders, finding nothing else amiss until he turned his attention to the one they called the Butcher.

And then he drew back in shock.

There could be no mistake. The signature was the same – despite being augmented by what had the clear emission of filthy Inusannon corruption... it was definitely _her_.

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard slashed apart the last pair of charging husks, grimacing as they tried to grapple her even in death. She stepped free of the tangle of limbs, looking around and seeking additional enemies.

The only thing left standing was the Collector on the ridge in the distance with yellow-glowing eyes, as the rest of the husks had been thrown down. She smiled as Zaeed shot at it, then frowned as the shot bounced off a yellowish-green barrier field. A BRKR round from Florez was equally ineffective, although this at least seemed to wake the thing up.

It took a small leap down from the ridge, landing smoothly. The brownish hide was split open in many places, revealing a deep orange-yellow glow and sluggishly moving wires.

Shepard tightened her grip on her sword, even as the glowing Collector took another step forward and spoke. Its voice was a muted growl, reverberating and cold, and yet sounding almost irritated.

"**You."**

She turned to face the thing, smiling underneath her helmet, bringing her warp sword around in front of her. "What, scared of little old me?"

The glowing figure stared at her. "**I do not know how you survived, but the oversight will be corrected... soon. Enjoy your victory for the rest of your short existence."** The Collector twitched, jerked, and then collapsed, leaving behind a ravaged, smoking corpse.

She glanced around one more time, seeing no enemies close by. A handful of husks on the horizon had suddenly stopped in their approach, swaying in place and twitching. Shepard frowned, and then scowled as her omni-tool lit up with a call from the _Normandy_. "Status?"

Pressly's voice was strained. "_Secure, but something strange just happened, ma'am. Just before the _Kazan _was going to impact the carrier, it suddenly just... blinked out. So did the badly damaged cruiser. We're scanning now for drive traces or anything, but they just seemed to vanish."_

Shepard glanced back up. The Collectors were taking to the sky en masse, falling back rapidly to the one remaining ship, completely ignoring counter fire in their haste. The larger creatures fell back as well, while the husks on the horizon were now falling back, forming packs to block any pursuit.

Shepard suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

"Something's not right. Fuck."

Pressly's voice rang out. "_Reacquired the cruiser, ma'am! It's on a course for high solar orbit, nineteen light-minutes out. It must have done some kind of crazy in-system FTL jump - across half the damned system. What the hell are they doing?"_

She tapped another comm-link. "Vigil, ideas?"

The sphere's voice was muted. "_Unknown. Although probably nothing good. Did anything happen on the surface to have caused this?"_

She licked her lips. "I think one of the Collectors knew who I was. It said it didn't know how I had survived but that it would fix that problem. It was, ah, glowing, and had wires moving around inside it - sort of like Benezia and Saren."

Vigil's voice was grim. "_Glowing is rarely a good thing, undead primate... and the Collector ship is accelerating beyond our capability to match speeds with."_

Pressly spoke. "_At its current speed the Collector Cruiser will be in solar orbit in nine minutes. It will take us at least twenty-five minutes to try and intercept it – pursue?"_

She glanced to the south, where the Collectors continued to fall back, the exhausted defenders not even trying to pursue them. "No point if they can jump around like that. Bring the _Normandy _down, now that the bad guys are pulling out the last thing I need is the SA trying to arrest me or something."

Pressly's voice was firm. "_Not much chance of that. The _Kazan _is turning, slowing acceleration, and coming back towards the one remaining SA destroyer that is still intact. Do you want comms with the ship?"_

She glanced over her shoulder, as the two DACT walked over. "In a minute. Out." Sheathing her warp sword, she walked over toward the control tower, Grunt following in her wake as she did so.

Lieutenant Cole was still propped up against the wall of the tower, with medi-gel packets around his stomach and right leg. Commissar Jiong stood next to him, the neural mace in his hand stained with Collector fluids, his uniform ruined.

She walked to about two meters from them before stopping. "The Collectors are falling back, gentlemen. They're up to something in space, but they look like they've given up down here. My own people are going to be pulling out as quickly as we can – I trust we aren't going to have any problems from your people?"

Cole looked at her, at the pile of bodies she'd blasted and carved apart, at the giant krogan standing behind her, and then back at her. "That would be a fucking-aw-hell-naw, ma'am."

Jiong was less sanguine. "You are wanted for questioning by both the High Lords of the Systems Alliance, as well as the Citadel Council, in regards to your connections to Cerberus."

She smirked, although they couldn't see it behind her helmet. "I already told the Council I'll meet with them when I'm damned good and ready." She paused, then tilted her head. "And really, Commissar... your High Lords wouldn't like meeting me in person."

Jiong arched an eyebrow. "That may be so. But Cerberus is a human organization, one well within our purview - and one your namesake was involved in destroying. Your actions at the very least require explanation."

She shook her head. "_Was _a human organization, Commissar. I'll be more than happy to explain my links to them – they're the only people who were interested in stopping shit like this," She waved her arms at the burning countryside, "from happening. Your Alliance claimed it was 'pirates' without even bothering to check for themselves, and when I wiped those 'pirates' off the face of the galaxy, the Council pulled more bullshit out of their crests without hesitation."

She folded her arms and shifted her weight to one leg. "I don't wish to kill you, Commissar, but don't think it would be much of an issue. Your call."

Cole grimaced and stood, placing a hand on Jiong's shoulder. "We can't take her like this. I'm not even sure we could take her with the Captain down here and us not busted up."

Jiong nodded stiffly. "I would suggest departing swiftly then, Butcher. The _Kazan _sent a distress call and reinforcements will be arriving shortly. I have no wish to engage in hostilities at this time."

Shepard nodded. "That is appreciated. Go with the will of the Goddess, Commissar." She tapped her comm-link to transmit to her own people. "All forces. Fall back to shuttles and pickup points. Trigger Meltdown on any hard-downed mechs and let's get out of here."

She turned away, but stopped as Jiong grabbed her arm. "Yes?"

The hard features of her friend stared at her. "Sara Shepard was more than mindless violence, asari. She was more than revenge."

With a sad smile Shepard removed his hand. "I know that better than you do, Alfred." He dropped his hand in surprise at her knowledge of his name, and she kanquessed away.

Cole frowned. "You notice how she was standing at the end? The Boss Lady used to do that all the time. And... something about how she moved when she was fighting..." He trailed off, not sure what to think, and then sighed. "Now I sound crazy. Sorry, sir."

Jiong nodded, thinking much of the same thing to himself. The motions, the fighting, even the phrasing was strangely - and upsettingly - familiar. The idea that this asari was Shepard reborn was ridiculous on its face, but he began to comprehend why the High Lords were worried. If some asari had ripped information from Shepard's mind...

Clearing his mind of such useless thoughts, he tapped his comm-link. "_Kazan_?"

A voice answered. "_Lieutenant Daniels here, sir. The _Kazan _has been evacuated, Captain Delacor and Ensign Li An, and a handful of torpedomen are all that's left. We're moving them now to the _Hudson_, as it's the only ship with working medical."_

Jiong nodded. "Escape pods from the _Kazan_?"

"_Already FTL'd out, sir."_ A pause. "_Captain von Khar is in critical condition and unconscious. Captain McDaniels is dead, and the XO of our ship and the _Kazan _are both badly injured. You're the ranking officer – orders?"_

Jiong paused, then shook his head. "Ascertain the status of remaining Collector forces. We're going to need disaster relief teams here, send messages to the Citadel immediately. What is your medical capacity?"

"_Collector carrier is gone; the cruiser is headed for what looks like a solar orbit. Most of the other Collector ships are destroyed, or being towed by the Butcher's ships. Medical bay is full, but we have two engineers building additional dockets in the crew's mess. The Butcher's fleet is standing off from us, but have powered down their weapons."_

Jiong nodded. "I'll have our more critically injured sent upstairs then. Not sure what kind of conditions local medical systems will have, but they will no doubt be completely overwhelmed, not to mention there may still be Hades units down here. For now, hold position and await reinforcements, and do not engage the Butcher's ships."

"_Understood, sir. We're trying to clear the shuttle bay now; we should have some shuttles working here in a few minutes."_

Jiong killed the connection. "Lieutenant, get me a medical status on our survivors. Seeing as the Horizon Chamber was probably all killed, I strongly doubt we'll be able to do anything meaningful here. I'm going to check on Williams's team."

Cole nodded, slumping back down and tapping his omni. "Yes, sir."

**O-TWCD-O**

Ashley Williams watched the Butcher's people load up their shuttle with Collector bodies, weapons and armor. They didn't communicate with her – or even pay her or her people any attention. The fight had just stopped for some reason, all the bugs falling back at top speed to their ship, which even now was lifting off.

Ash would have preferred to keep firing at it, but the damned colonists decided not to. She guessed after watching their world get its shit wrecked, they just wanted the entire mess to stop. Besides, the Collectors had definitely learned today that humanity was not to be fucked with - the lesson needed someone to take it back to Bugfuck Central, or wherever they came from.

She glanced back over her own people, living and dead, and told herself this was worth the death of nine of her people and God knew how many Blue Suns.

The form of Archangel dropped from the tower's roof to land heavily on the ground in a flare of mass effect jets, coming out of the landing crouch to stare upwards. Another shuttle in white, black, and gold landed, and the big turian battle-suit motioned several of his people to get on it.

She walked forward, her rifle slung. "So, what now?"

The Archangel turned to look down on her, the night-black suit hulking over her. "Now? Now we leave. We've done what we came to do."

She wondered what that meant even as she spoke. "And you're not sticking around to help."

The armored figure made a spreading motion with his hands. "Not sure I like it either. But like you, I'm simply following orders. The Council has made a lot of noise about the Butcher, most of it unfriendly, and the fact that we saved your lives may or may not sway them to think differently."

He turned away. "But we'd rather not stick around to find out." He glanced off in the distance, where a single figure in a tattered greatcoat approached. "You are an excellent leader, Lieutenant Williams. I doubt anyone else could have kept your people alive in the face of such an enemy."

With that, he turned toward the shuttle, and she grunted, turning back to her own people. "Looks like the Butcher's gang is headed out of town. Sharps, Talei, keep an eye on 'em until they leave, just in case."

The two corporals nodded, and she turned back to watch the Butcher's people load up. She still didn't know what to think of the Butcher, but she had to give credit where it was due - the Archangel was definitely a badass. As he got on the shuttle, she noted he carried a large-bore Talon pistol - she immediately thought of another turian, now dead, who carried one. Garrus Vakarian.

She sighed. As much as she disliked turians and aliens in general, she had to admit - Vakarian would have never left these people to fend for themselves. She turned back to her people, pulling up the software on her omni-tool to write up the casualty reports, and hoped she could get back to the Citadel and her son quickly.

Seeing all the dead here made her wish for some peace and quiet, oddly enough.

**O-TWCD-O**

Aboard the _Normandy_, Pressly stared hard at the combat plot.

The fleet had lost eleven frigates and two destroyers, with heavy damage to several other ships and a light but fairly serious hit to the Normandy's port outboard engine. Vigil was already preparing the self-destruct routines on the downed ships, at least those too damaged to tow. Given that the ships were unmanned and they could always make more, it was not a crippling loss - but replacements would take time, and limit Pressly's options in any future battles until replaced.

What worried him, after he thought about it, was Vigil's mention about how easily even heavily shielded and Silaris-reinforced ships were taken out by the Collector weapons systems. That boded very ill for future clashes with the Collectors.

Based on what he'd seen, the Collectors were nasty customers. Their ships were basically immune to all but the heaviest mass accelerator fire, and their hulls and armor slowly regenerated as time passed. Their cyberwarfare meant guided torpedoes were difficult to land, forcing enemies to close range engagements with GARDIAN broadsides and missiles - which brought one neatly within the range that dodging their particle beam weapons was almost impossible.

The drones were also a very serious threat, equipped with a version of the MHD weapon used by Nazara. Although each bolt was tiny, it ignored kinetic barriers and generated explosive, burning damage within ships, starting fires and shorting out electrical systems. Luckily, most of Shepard's ships were manned by war robots - being hit with that in an oxygen-rich atmosphere like on most ships crewed by actual people would be ugly indeed.

Still, for a first round, Pressly thought they'd done well. The Collectors had lost a carrier and taken severe damage to their other two capital ships and lost most of their frigates. This would allow for the examination of the Collector technology up close.

Already, the Collector carrier destroyed in battle was being force-towed by most of the remaining Butcher's destroyers. The Collector frigate-class vessels were far too damaged to gain any intelligence from, and were left for the Council to pick over, and as proof. The single working Collector frigate on the surface had lifted off. Pressly had units ready to kill or cripple it, but it pulled the same vanishing stunt as the second carrier and cruiser had.

It wouldn't be long before relief ships arrived – Vigil estimated no more than an hour. They needed to be gone from the area before then, and Pressly's mind was already going over the details to make sure everything was cleared up when Vigil pulsed.

"We have a _serious _problem, meatbag."

Pressly looked up. "What is it?"

Vigil bobbed over the combat plot, shifting the display mode to sensor interpolation. "It has taken a while, given the wretched nature of your primitive sensors, but I believe I know what that Collector cruiser is doing. They are destabilizing the star."

For several long seconds, Pressly just stood there, before shaking his head, voice growing incredulous. "_What_?"

Vigil's voice was grim. "They are bombarding it with some kind of dynamic symmetry breaking... beam or field, accelerating the core fusion process of the star, force stepping elemental conversions at an incredibly rapid rate. There is also some kind of energy to matter conversion going on, forcing accretion of matter - specifically, pure elemental iron - on the star's surface."

As a navigator, Pressly was required to have a deep understanding of stellar physics. What the device was describing was clear and horrifying. "They're going to make the star go _supernova_?"

Vigil bobbed. "Some sort of forced runaway nuclear reaction, accelerated fusion into heavy elements ending in iron spectra, yes. While the force will not be as powerful as a true supernova it will pulverize everything in the system. Nothing will survive."

Pressly swallowed, feeling sweat erupt across his brow. With an effort, he steadied his breathing. "How long? Can we stop it?"

Vigil circled the plot. "Stop it, no. At top speeds we would now need thirty-two minutes to overtake the ship. The process will be irreversible in eleven minutes and completed in nineteen, so it is unlikely we could even interfere before the Collector ship escapes. As for how long until it detonates? Far less than a day. Estimates are completely impossible to gauge accurately, but I would suggest no more than four or five hours, perhaps seven at the outside."

The XO stabbed the comms button. "Ma'am, I... we have a problem."


	34. Arc II Conclusion : Ah, Yes, the Butcher

_**A/N**:_

_The follow up to Horizon. In canon, it always felt weak. Hopefully you all like it, it's 16k big.  
_

_As usual, a giant t__hanks to the Editing Gang for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes. They deserve more credit than I do.  
_

* * *

_'The word 'impossible' is one used by those with a failure of imagination, will, and knowledge of Murphy's Law. When I'm told it's impossible for something to happen, I start planning for it to go wrong immediately if not sooner.'  
_

\- _Admiral Charles Pressly, 'At the Right Hand of Justice'_

* * *

Chaos had swallowed Horizon whole.

Even as portions of the city burned, thousands of haggard and sometimes wounded survivors crammed the laneways leading from the city center and the colony towers toward the spaceport, heedless of commands to do otherwise. In the distance, the few wealthy colonists with private ships were already lifting off, while a thin line of Alliance Marines and weary infantry tried to sort people into lines near the gates of the spaceport, where three heavy transports were loading thousands onboard.

Further out, rescue ships were still daring the ruins of Horizon's other settlements, trying to save whoever they could. A pair of Alliance medical-frigates hung in low orbit, while a stream of shuttles ferried wounded civilians and militia to be treated, but there were tens of thousands wounded by fires, building collapses, or from the impact of Collector weapons.

There was far too much panic and fear to allow for any kind of organization, and Gerald Traynor found himself caught up in it. He'd never considered himself a particularly brave man. He cherished his wife, doted on his daughter, and considered himself a simple man. And as he did his best to keep the press of fleeing people around him from trampling his wife, he wondered again why in the hell he'd come all the way out to Horizon in the first place.

Oh, right. The London Arcology's tax hikes during the '66 collapse.

He glanced around, keeping his wife moving along with the crowd. Two of Horizon's cities were smoking ruins, and Crash Landing had taken a number of bad hits itself. Much of the city was still burning, with what ragged remains of the militia and police attempting to organize what had become a panicked evacuation.

The news about the star becoming unstable had been transmitted by some fool of a militia lieutenant on an open circuit and hit the tattered comm networks of the colony almost seconds later. It didn't take long for people to realize that - even with all the dead and captured - there weren't going to be nearly enough ships to get everyone off.

A few weary souls - some who'd lost loved ones in the fighting - calmly went about their final hours. Some prayed. Some cracked open books or invited neighbors to dinner. Others took the bodies of their loved ones to nearby hills, to lay them down in a place with a semblance of peace.

Everyone else engaged in a mad scramble to get off-world. The spaceport was overrun with people, as were the private docks set into the cliffs just beyond the city's edge. Alliance and volus ships were making jury-rigged landings wherever there was space, but if one could look at the sky - and the swelling, darkening orb of the sun - they would realize it was too little, too late.

With a grunt, he shouldered an obese man wearing a greasy jumpsuit out of his way, his arms around his wife, and headed down the side corridors to the offices of his half-brother, a militia captain. The office - the local command center for the militia - was massive and reinforced, a thick door set into slab-like walls of durasteel, the blocky shape topped with an empty landing pad. The crowds flowed around it, determined to get into the spaceport and perceived safety, giving him the space to catch his breath before turning to the door.

He carefully typed in the code he'd been given, and hustled his wife inside as soon as the doors opened. Traveling through a narrow corridor flanked by what looked like locker rooms, he came out into a wide-open space, where a handful of people on comm-links tried to talk to ships in orbit. Along the far wall, his half-brother was standing in front of a haptic map, his arm in a sling and bloodstains down his left side, his cropped black hair burnt off in a thin line of welted flesh across his right temple.

"The entire city's a mess, Tom. You have a way off-world?"

Thomas Jackson half-nodded, his dark euro-chinese features blunted by fatigue and pain. "I think so. One of the private cargo haulers we used to bring down the VDF's equipment was signed out to the militia. I'm having Kory run the VI update now, we should be able to bring it down from orbit and land it on the pad up top."

Jackson's asari wife stood to the side of the room, staring out the windows at the shoving, frightened people. "Is this the best place to be? When they see a ship landing they'll try to storm the building." Her hands rested on the slender shoulders of her young daughter. In the distance, there was the sound of an explosion, and thick clouds of smoke erupted into the sky from a collapsing building.

The Militia Captain shrugged, continuing to work at the console he was facing, hands moving confidently over the flickering haptics. "No worries. This was the only place I could bring a ship down and make sure we weren't swarmed. The door's seven centimeters thick and reinforced with a kinetic barrier. Not likely to budge. Ship only has life support for about twenty people anyway, and that's everyone here." He glanced back at Gerald. "You heard anything else from your daughter?"

Gerald shook his head. "No, but I heard the _Kazan _survived the battle." He stroked his wife's shoulder and compressed his lips. "All we can do now is pray."

The crack of mass accelerator rifles and screams rang out from somewhere outside, and one of the other militia officers spat. "Things are getting ugly out there. According to the solar observatory, the star is already growing and shifting to orange. We've got maybe another two hours."

The man in the corner working feverishly at a terminal gave a whoop. "Reconfigured the VI. Ship's coming down in a landing pattern now, ETA fifteen minutes. That gives us twenty minutes to get everyone onboard. We need to be clear of the atmosphere in an hour, tops, to be able to hit the relay in time."

Jackson nodded. "That's probably the best we can hope for. Kast, go short out the entryway controls in the front. I don't need some smartass hacking their way in here. Kory, bring the ship down nice and easy. Keep clear of the spaceport itself. Everyone else, head up the stairs to the loading area and stay calm - we're all getting out of here in one piece, so no one needs to panic.

Gerald smiled bitterly to himself as he headed up the narrow stairs of hard, black metal, holding his wife's hand. More gunfire rang out, and he wondered what he'd have done if not for this opportunity.

They emerged into a small area fitted with more lockers and rubber mats. The far wall was pierced by a heavy door and two wide armaglass windows showing the expanse of the landing pad, and the city beyond, and from this height he could see beyond the edges of the town.

One of the others in the room, a man wearing the digital camo of the militia, shook his head at the sight of the river of people flowing toward the spaceport. "Whoever is running this up there is a fool."

Another man nodded, his dark skin gleaming faintly in the dim lighting from above. "They're landing ships as fast as they can, but they can only load people so fast." He looked at the star. "Jesus, the sun is growing again."

Gerald glanced out the shaded windows at the burning reddish-orange orb for a moment, which that morning had been a pale yellow-white. He wasn't an expert on solar mechanics, but he had a passing knowledge of it. He wasn't sure how much time they had left, but he somehow doubted it was very long.

**O-TWCD-O**

Sara couldn't say she was 'tired' so much as mentally exhausted. After all, her cybernetic limbs never got fatigued. Even so, she was beginning to understand more about what Miranda meant by saying she wasn't without limits.

The wounds she'd received hadn't been serious, unlike Garrus's and some other team members; the damage to her cybernetics was easily repaired. Even so, she had depleted most of the energy from the power star in her back and almost felt lethargic, a result of her systems moving into low power mode.

_I somehow doubt a nap will help with that. Maybe I should ask for a charging station, like an AESIR mech._

She grimaced at the self-pitying thought and put it out of her mind. Given how she'd died, she figured bitching about it was completely pointless. And shoving more equipment into her body didn't really appeal to her much, either.

She sighed as she pulled off the final pieces of armor around her legs and let them slump to the deck. She fell back onto her bed, pinching the bridge of her nose and grimacing. Horizon left a decidedly bad taste in her mouth, despite their overwhelming victory against the Collectors.

The loss of five Marines – Haskins, Ownby, and Haln in particular, who had been Marines aboard the _Normandy _– stung, but not as much as it would have when she was in the Alliance. The loss she felt was more of losing people she'd known for a long time - of losing more people from her past on top of the already fallen, like Kyle and Liara - rather than one of not doing enough for her men. They had gear that matched or exceeded what most N-series soldiers used, after all.

Taylor was beating himself up over the deaths of Haln and Haskins from the med-bay where he was recovering from his own near-lethal wounds, but according to Vega, it was only due to Taylor's biotics and stubborn will to shrug off those wounds that the entire detachment wasn't cacked. Haskins had overextended herself, and without proper cover had eaten a particle blast to the face.

Ownby's death had simply been an unlucky fluke, a split-second poor positioning of the tank, which was still enough time to allow the Collectors to fire. The blast had blown through the tank's armor at just the right point to kill him.

Shepard didn't like losing people, but in an operation like this, losing only five was damn near miraculous. Given the shit she'd put her Marines through chasing Saren and Benezia, the fact that Ownby, Haln, or Haskins had survived this far was outside the norm. Her mood soured not due to the deaths of her men, but the reaction the Collector leader had demonstrated upon realizing she was alive. That hadn't been something she or Harper had expected, and she worried about what exactly they'd do in the future.

_Try to kill me, probably. Again. _

It didn't help that she was dealing with the fact that the Collectors had killed a star with the same kind of casual ease as they snuffed out entire colonies. And the reason why eluded her, other than the possibility - however stupid - that they were throwing a childish temper tantrum. The sheer scale of the act left her stunned, and the casual malice it suggested made her more determined than ever to stop them.

She watched the status panel again, before tapping the comm-link. "Pressly, update on Horizon."

The XO's voice sounded tired. "_No one's bothered the last QEC sat we dropped. All of the merchant ships have exited the relay, the Citadel fleet and the SA's 34__th_ _Scout are pulling out now. They've left behind a pair of robotic probes. From our own readings, it won't be long - the star is throwing off its upper layers already, and it will probably blow in the next thirty minutes."_

Shepard nodded to herself. "How many were they able to get off?"

Pressly's voice, already grim, went soft. "_The VDF ships and what merchant ships were on the planet that didn't get destroyed probably lifted at least two hundred thousand. A few private ships showed up, one of them a supercargo hauler – that one alone got off thirty or forty thousand, maybe sixty thousand between them all. The military, maybe another thirty thousand more. The Suns bulk troop transports got off another two or three thousand, maybe."_

Shepard bowed her head. Horizon's last census reported just under two million humans and roughly nine hundred asari. Rough figures for casualties from the orbital bombardment had already been sky-high, and now barely a tenth of the original population was going to escape the destruction of their home.

After a moment, she took a deep breath. "What's our fleet's status? I'm still not happy about the fact we couldn't save any of the colonists ourselves, but I hope we didn't lose any more of our own ships."

Pressly's voice sharpened slightly. "_The bulk of the unmanned ships were not rated for life - with no crews, we had no reason to prep the life support systems. And with all of the ships being so automated, we didn't even have space for more than a few hundred civilians if we did. I don't like it either, but we couldn't have expected the Collectors to blow up the star."_

She grimaced. "Well, going forward, get with Vigil and see what we can do about throwaway unmanned rescue craft. I know why TIM didn't want us doing it - exposure, risk of spies getting aboard the ships, tracking devices - but it leaves me feeling like I let those people die."

Pressly's sigh was almost, but not quite, inaudible. "_I'll have Vigil look into it, ma'am. As to our current status, none of the manned ships – the heavies and the carrier – took serious damage. Sixteen wounded on the carrier from a hull breach, but only three dead. We've lost most of our supporting escorts, though. That makes it tricky to deploy; these ships are heavily armed but not cut out for knife-fighting, ma'am."_

She frowned. "They're bad at close-range fighting?" Before he could answer, she shook her head. "Sorry, that, came out a little blunt. I was told by TIM these ships are cutting-edge tech and better than most on the market, but now you're saying they aren't good at going toe-to-toe with the enemy? What seems to be the problem?"

The XO's voice took on a patient tone. "_It's fine, ma'am. There's nothing wrong with the ships - but they were designed with someone who expected them to work in a fleet. Without escorts, the heavier ships don't have good maneuverability. The carrier and cruisers have very heavy weapons loads and strong kinetic barriers, backstopped with a lot of armor, but the GARDIAN suites are not as heavy as I'd like. Without frigates and destroyers to peel off rapid closers, lighter ships can still get inside their defense envelopes too easily, and a couple of torpedoes is all it takes to wreck one of them."_

She nodded slowly. "I know when I was commanding the _Kazan _we needed escorts... but I thought these ships were better than Alliance spec."

Pressly laughed, although there was a bit of tiredness in his voice. "_They're way better than Alliance spec, ma'am. That's why I said it's tricky to deploy them, not impossible. I think we can do it, but we'll have to rely heavily on maneuver tactics, overlapping GARDIAN coverage, and ECM. Any enemy ship commander worth spit will try to split the formation, which makes it a risky tactic. Escorts let us work with more flexibility, not to mention safety."_

She glanced at the status panel a final time. "Alright. In that case, tighten the formation up once we hit the relay and keep us on general quarters until we reach the base, then stand down. I want the entire fleet examined once we get back, and every damaged armor plate replaced. We'll talk some more then about tactics."

"_Yes, ma'am."_ He paused, then spoke in a lower tone. "_...Additionally, we're picking up heavy comm traffic on the buoy networks. I'm pretty sure video of what happened down there is going out. Maybe that will be enough to get people to pay attention to the threat - maybe even the Council."_

Shepard gave a soft laugh. "Charles, you know better. Keep me informed of any changes in status."

Shepard clicked off, and then shut the status panel down. She needed a moment to herself, and sat back down, a sad smile on her features. In a way, Pressly was right. At least the Council and Alliance would not be able to cover this mess up. That didn't answer the question of what exactly they would do or how they'd react to her presence in the system. And it certainly didn't make her feel any better about what had just gone down.

She was hardly an expert politician, but even she could see throwing the truth out there in the open would cause all kinds of chaos, both for the Council and for the Alliance. She sighed and leaned back on the bed, then looked up as Miranda entered her quarters.

"Shepard, the Illusive Man would like a word via QEC. He says it's urgent. I tried comming you, but you had your system link deactivated." Miranda's voice was almost apologetic.

She nodded, levering herself up and pushing her hair out of her face. "Sorry, Miranda. I was thinking. Not important. Tell him I'll be on in ten."

Miranda gave a small frown. "Is everything alright?"

Shepard gave a sharp bark of bitter laughter. "No, but whining about it won't fix anything." She stood. "You did well commanding the medical team - no injuries at all, and from what Garrus said you had a pretty good haul of things you brought back. Good job."

Miranda gave an uncertain, small smile at that. "Of course, Shepard." She stepped back toward the door. "But the Illusive Man did say it was urgent." She exited a moment later, and Shepard turned toward the shower.

Eleven minutes later, she stood in the QEC comms room, arms folded and in a fresh Cerberus uniform, sans the insignia. Harper was seated, wearing an expensive-looking double-breasted suit with a thin-line tie, a cigarette in his hand.

She pushed her hair back and gave him a flat stare. "I'm here."

His voice was, as usual, perfectly modulated and calming. "Horizon was an unqualified success, Shepard. Your teams gathered enough material to make our plans a reality rather than a wild gamble, and we've proven the Collectors can be fought and defeated."

She narrowed her eyes. "A lot of people are going to die in a few minutes because their fucking sun is going to blow the hell up, and you call that a success?"

Jack Harper knocked ashes from his cigarette and lifted it to his lips, taking a puff. "Like many other aspects of life, it depends on your point of view. I'm not saying the loss of Horizon isn't tragic... but ultimately, they knew they were in danger. I've made that very clear, through various intermediaries, to all of the independent colonies."

He sighed, dumping his ashes. "Horizon had a complex history with the Alliance, as you well know – you yourself fought there not too long ago."

She shrugged. "Yes, back when it was a Class I. Before the Alliance decided to write them the fuck off after all of the Marines died for nothing."

He gave a small smile. "The Alliance dropped the ball after that, and it went its own way. The fact that the Alliance showed up to defend it may mollify some. But the sheer visibility of the colony plays in our favor – the Council cannot ignore what has happened, and the Alliance isn't either. Horizon wasn't a huge player in economic terms, but its destruction will send shockwaves through the various markets, and deal a fairly sharp blow to the Vol Protectorate's ambitions."

She took a deep breath. "There's more to it than the goddamned money and political fuckery, Harper. A lot of people died."

He nodded. "They did. I'm not ignoring that fact at all. But to belabor the obvious, there's nothing we can do about the deaths - only take advantage of the chaos and work harder to stop the Collectors from repeating this action."

He sipped his drink. "Ultimately, however, the loss of the world is offset by the hard facts – until now, every colony hit has had _one hundred percent casualties_. I'd say stopping them from capturing the colonists is a win. While I wish there could have been a way to evacuate everyone, there simply wasn't enough time. And certainly a death by stellar flare is still better or at least cleaner than, say, whatever the Collectors are doing with the colonists."

She unfolded her arms. "I get it, the big picture. If it had to happen, having it go down at Horizon at least means it can't be shoved under the rug.' She shook her head. "But I don't see it that way. One of those things down there somehow _knew _who I was, Harper. And the minute they figured that out, they pulled back and did their 'blow up the sun' bullshit. So the deaths of those people are on me, and I don't feel like this was a big fucking win, no matter what we accomplished."

Surprisingly, he nodded. "We will always look at the same problem from differing perspectives, Shepard. That's one value you bring to the table, what Trellani calls your innate sense of justice. I am somewhat dismayed to think the Collectors know your identity, but I suspect that once the Collectors realized their plans had been foiled, they were going to do this atrocity anyway."

He ground the cigarette out, and glanced back up at her. "I also understand your distress at the loss of life, Shepard. I won't insult you by mouthing pithy sayings about sacrifice. But make no mistake: what we've learned today is worth the price paid in lives, both colonists and defenders."

He tapped a control on his chair and a haptic screen popped up on the far wall of the conference room. "Doctor Solus and Vigil are already working in the lab on the Collector bodies, but we also have weapons, armor, some kind of suspension casket, at least a dozen Servility Devices, and the wreckage of the Collector's carrier. We've established a baseline for their power – and more importantly, as I said, proven they can be fought and defeated." As he spoke, various images flashed up on the haptic screen.

Shepard shrugged. "And they responded like petulant children and blew it all up because they lost?"

Harper shook his head. "I don't think so. That was a different message, I suspect – interfere with their harvesting of colonists and they'll kill everyone in the system. Vigil says the method they used was one the Protheans devised, but that it usually took days or even weeks to trigger – they had to expend a lot of power to pull this off in a rapid span of time. Power they may not always have available. And considering how rapidly it is progressing, they may have expected to kill you in the blast."

Shepard nodded. "Based on what we're seeing, if Vigil hadn't figured out what they were doing, by the time anyone figured out the star was going to explode we'd have barely had time to get to the mass relay."

Harper lifted his drink and took a sip. "Precisely. In fact, given the chaos on Horizon, it's extremely unlikely anyone would have noticed before the star exploded, being too caught up in rescue and relief operations. The capability to do this to any star is not something I expected from them. More to the point, it is a troubling ability that we don't currently have a method to counter, although I'm already putting together a team to study possible countermeasures."

Shepard folded her arms again. "Yeah, good luck with that." She sighed. "So what's the plan now?"

Harper leaned back. "Once you arrive at your base, Doctor Solus will begin full research on the Collectors – the carrier is being towed to another Cerberus facility where my people will examine what's left." He held up a hand. "I know you have some facilities at the base, but we don't know if the ships are booby-trapped, loaded with explosives, or contain tracking devices."

She arched an eyebrow. "Or Reaper tech that could cause indoctrination. Didn't think of that… good idea."

He smiled. "Just so. Good to see you're keeping an eye on the dangers. As I said, we'll research it there and see what we come up with… but as for other plans, we're in a holding pattern. I have several irons in the fire, and none of them are quite hot enough to move yet. For the moment, I'd prepare your team to move on Ilium – Tetrimus is definitely headed there, along with a large contingent of Broker operatives and kill-teams."

He sipped his drink again. "Ideally, we'd be able to neutralize Tetrimus and possibly Tazzik and determine the Broker's actual location. Trellani has the skills to rip the information from his mind if he can be... subdued. And while we are fairly certain the Broker has put in failsafes to prevent Tazzik from compromising his operations if captured, Vigil has assured me he can nullify those."

Harper tilted his head. "Even so, both of them are _extremely_ dangerous and capable, leaving aside that Broker kill-teams are more than a match for even special forces soldiers. While the old adage that quantity has a quality of its own is true, the Broker has cash to hire on the most heavily trained ex-military types, along with all kinds of mercs, criminals, and whatever other defunct bits and pieces of pirate outfits that caught his eye. Don't assume this will be easy."

She shrugged. "I don't want it to be easy, but I want to crush Tetrimus's skull. Do we have any kind of lead on the Sisters themselves?"

He shook his head. "No, we have neither hard information nor even general location, and we do not have positive communications contact with the Sisters of Vengeance. Coordinating this will be somewhat difficult."

Shepard lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Maybe. Same was true when we went in after Garrus, though. Do we have anyone down there we can go to for information?"

Harper nodded, although he was frowning. "Possibly. A pair of information brokers, the Vantirus Sisters, have been helpful to us in the past – they were the ones who provided information that the Citadel had decided to send Delacor and Vasir after you, as well as information on Mordin Solus. We believe them to be possible STG assets, with a tangential connection to the Broker – given that the Sisters of Vengeance have murdered any real Broker assets, they can't be directly connected or they would already be dead."

She nodded. "Alright. Better than nothing. We'll reach out to them in a bit. But that brings me to another point – the Broker isn't going to take this lying down, and I may have to go in or come out hot. How long until you can make good on my fleet losses?"

Harper finished his drink. "That will take more time. We want to study the weapons systems and construction of the captured Collector carrier before building any additional units, to see if we cannot incorporate improvements. Despite being top-of-the-line in every aspect, the ships we provided you did not perform as well as I had hoped." His expression darkened. "Vigil also seems rather casual about using the unmanned vessels as kamikaze devices."

She managed not to smirk. "I think I'm rubbing off on him. But better losing those ships than the _Normandy _and my people, or the crews on the heavier ships."

Harper's voice was droll. "Indeed, although at such a cost I still find it inefficient. Vigil claims he can reproduce them more rapidly... which gives me a thought as to actually having him _exercise _this ability." He looked lost in thought for several seconds before meeting her gaze once more.

"For the moment, as I said earlier, we are in a holding pattern. My people are still following up on the information provided by Ms. Goto, but so far everything checks out. Once we get any kind of localization on the Sisters – or when we confirm Tetrimus is on Ilium – I'll notify you immediately."

She nodded. "One last thing. I lost five people on this last mess. Ownby and Haskins were the only family each other had, and Juhal and Parker didn't have any living relatives, but Chief Haln had a wife and family on Dirth."

The Illusive Man nodded. "I'll make sure their needs are taken care of and generate a suitably non-traumatic death for them. I'll also make sure the families won't want for anything. Ezno will have a shuttle ready to convey the body back to Dirth once you arrive on-station." He paused. "I know you dislike losing soldiers, but for an opening clash with Reaper agents, your forces did well. And no one who died stopping them did so in vain."

She nodded sadly. "Yeah, I know. I was expecting worse, I think. That's what worries me: how many will I lose when shit goes wrong, like it always does on the Shepard Express?" She stepped back. "Later, TIM."

The QEC link died, and she sourly turned away, exiting the small room and walking back into the CIC to glance at the galaxy map. As usual, Chambers was busy on the terminal standing next to it, the tip of her tongue stuck out as she typed code of some kind rapidly into her console.

Shepard glanced at the status repeater – another fifteen minutes to the base – and then at Kelly. "Status?"

Kelly glanced up, pushing her hair out of her face, and gave a thin, cautious smile. "Doctor Sedanya reports all injuries are stabilizing. Jack is going to require a full knee replacement, however – we'll prep the blueware facility for that, as doing a bionetic implant would keep her out of action for several weeks of grow time. We'll go ahead and prep the bionetics and put those in when ready."

Shepard nodded, thinking. "We'll need her ready to go on Ilium, for sure, but I've learned a hard lesson about my people taking damage. Jack's tough, and her biotics are powerful, but she's not a trained soldier." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "And I don't have all the time I need to fix that in short order. Remind me to talk with Vega and Taylor about some training for her."

The psychologist glanced at her terminal. "Speaking of Mr. Taylor, his wounds and those of Sidonis have been treated, and Grunt appears to have suffered no injuries he couldn't regenerate. Angel is still in the med-bay but is expected to make a full recovery. Other than that, everything seems normal as far as the ground teams go. You'll have to ask Tali about the ship status, but I don't think we took any serious damage to the _Normandy_."

Shepard nodded. "And the news? I mean, the media."

Kelly blew out a breath. "Bad. Pressly was right – a lot got out of the system. The rescue fleet dropped a pair of FTL comm buoys when they arrived, and didn't get them locked down for almost twenty minutes. That gave people plenty of time to transmit."

Shepard shrugged. "So... what did they get out?"

Kelly's voice became a touch thin. "With the comms systems shot to bits and lots of stuff manually disconnected, clearing out any video images of us was impossible – Vigil did what he could, but almost everything was still caught on video from the colony tower. AIS and STG units arrived with the rest of the relief fleet and took possession of that almost immediately, but some of it still got on the extranet."

Shepard sat in the chair before the galaxy plot and gave a bitter smile. "So the cat is out of the bag about the Collectors, at least. Reactions?"

Kelly gestured. "That's what I was doing, conciliating reports and news sites with public opinion. So far, there's a lot of rampant speculation. More than one group is asking if the Collectors were the ones behind the other colony disappearances and so forth. The VDF issued a statement of support for the wildcats and an offer of protection assuming they formally joined the Vol Protectorate. The Council has said they have Spectres examining the issue."

Kelly's expression became sarcastic. "And the Systems Alliance, of course, has said nothing official. Unofficially they're screaming themselves bloody – Delacor is in critical condition, the _Kazan _had to be towed out of the system, the entire task force was blown up except for two destroyers and a frigate. Lots of questions being thrown around."

Shepard nodded. "And about us?"

Kelly smiled. "Mostly positive. Turns out the leader of the Suns on the planet is one of Jona Sederis's daughters – and she gushed over you all over the extranet. The video of you fighting Collectors is getting the most hits out of anything on the extranet now – particularly among humans and asari. Your friend Garrus is also popular among turians, and the fact that the two of you are working together has made the hype even bigger."

Shepard gave a faint smile. "Anything else?"

Kelly's smile faded. "Yeah, one thing. The hearing for Commodore Anderson is tomorrow. They'll either clear him for release... or formally commit him to a mental hospital for reconditioning, based on what the hearing results are. Mr. Harper has very subtly managed to move two very qualified medical trial lawyers into the process and another one has been made available to Ms. Sanders via anonymous donations. He also pulled a few strings to provide him a political officer to act as legal aid - one we think will have his best interests at heart."

Shepard bit her lip. "I appreciate him doing that. Keep me informed about that, okay?"

Kelly turned back to her console. "Sure thing... do you need to talk at all? Not sure how well you are processing all of this, Horizon and everything, on top of finding out Garrus is alive..."

Shepard shook her head, standing up and sighing. "No, I'm fine. Well, as fine as I can get anyway. I'm going to check up on the wounded before we dock."

O-TWCD-O

Horizon orbited a star called Iera, a Greek word which was commonly translated to 'holy', but had a core meaning more along the lines of 'consecrated and untouched'. In normal times, the star's light was a pale whitish-gold when seen from space, and many of the original scout teams that moved through the far borders of space during the Expansion Era of the Systems Alliance were themselves of Greek extraction.

As the last ships, save for a pair of robotic probes, fled the system via the mass relay, the star's appearance, swollen and pulsating, would not have struck any viewer as holy, consecrated, or pure. Deep within, the efforts of the Collectors had triggered a chaotic mix of conflicting forces.

One could not call it 'science', as the device used to cause the catastrophe was one of the many devices the corrupted Protheans used without understanding. For all of their great pride in their own advancement, the crumbs given to them by the Reapers were so far beyond their fathoming that they were shrouded in the trappings of mysticism.

Such details, however, did not reduce their grim effectiveness. Once employed, there was neither a way to stop nor even delay the effects. Within minutes of the Collectors' action, the star had been fundamentally broken, the myriad effects that drove stellar fusion perverted to destruction instead.

The star was now a seething mass, its photosphere rent by sheets of collapsing matter waves and made turbulent from massive cascades of photon bubbles. Magnetohydrodynamics was, after all, child's play to the Reapers - their primary weapons used it - and the Collectors, while not the masters of such science, understood it well enough to turn it to their own purposes. The forced compression of areas of the star along with a dump of mass-created iron molecules created a chain reaction.

It was no true supernova, of course. The star was no supergiant; its mass and energy were nowhere near the required amounts. But its accelerated fusion, driven by masses of roiled, superheated plasma and driven by radiation pressure, had breached what humans called the Eddington luminosity limit.

In a normal star, the radiation pressure of the fusion reaction was always balanced by the rotational and gravitational forces of the star. Once that subtle linkage was broken, and the fusion of elements artificially accelerated, the star would rapidly destabilize.

Each failure fed the next. The higher pressure made the star swell, which reduced its mass density, speeding fusion and increasing the amount of material pushed by the photon bubbles now tearing through it. Magnetic field lines collapsed, creating sunspots six times the size of Horizon, that spread like patches of rot. So much radiated energy only drove fusion faster, and with the iron seeded into the core, it was not long before the main fuel of the star was expended.

The last moments of desecrated Iera saw it suddenly shrink, as conflicting forces tried and failed to restore the balance of gravity versus pressure. The infalling material pressed inwards on the stellar core, which had burned hydrogen to helium and helium to other substances to carbon and ultimately… iron.

Which is when all hell broke loose. Iron, being so tightly yoked by its bonds, cannot be fused without extracting more energy than it would yield from the fusion. The reaction rebounded and in a titanic shedding of energy and light, the star tore itself apart.

Some of the core mass remained, of course, a good amount. In a million years or ten it might even recoalesce into something approximating a star again. In the instant of explosion, however, a full third of the stellar mass was flung outward at near light-speed, led by a seething burst of gamma rays.

The inner planets came apart under the weight of the blast. Horizon's seas flashed to steam a split second before the entire planet was vaporized by the energy blast, a few hearty chunks of planetary core resisting for a minute or so as they were borne along the blast wave.

Deformed by gravity, the expanding ring of energy flung outwards in a rough elliptical shape, tearing the atmosphere off the outer gas giant and cracking the deeply compressed core. It washed impotently over the incredibly tough metal of the mass relay, and knocked the huge structure almost nine and a half million kilometers backwards and shaking the insides of it fiercely enough to throw off its alignment. The relay survived, glowing white hot but in one piece, and the wave passed beyond, leaving a shattered, claw-shaped glowing mess at the center of the system and a corona of hot, radioactive gasses in its wake.

Even as the star shuddered in its final death throes, the news was already going out across the extranet. There was no chance of a governmental cover-up this time – dozens of minor merchant vessels had fled the system before Alliance and Citadel ships had arrived.

News anchors and aggregator sites threw their own opinions into the mix even as more facts and footage came in, including that of the Butcher and Archangel. Details about what had happened were so murky that various outlets actually conflicted with one another. While the general public was vastly approving of the actions of the Revenant Wave and the Punishing Turian - Montague's fear about Garrus coopting the comic book vigilante had come alive in the trideo comment sections of the Extranet -, the reveal of the Collector involvement was widely debated.

The only thing that was clear was that the system was space dust now, and the Butcher and Archangel were definitely working together.

For Admiral Tradius Ahern, that just made his job harder. Bad enough the Butcher was running around blowing up slave planets that may or may not have had information the High Lords didn't want getting out. But the fact that she was connected to what remained of Cerberus and in possession of ships that severely outmatched some of the Alliance's most advanced vessels was intolerable.

And now, because she'd been involved in Horizon, more scrutiny and attention would be sent her way. Given that no one knew her true goals, background or much of anything, his superiors were understandably worried the Butcher was a Cerberus front to do something nefarious. And given humanity's link to Cerberus, they were worried whatever that nefarious action might be would reflect badly on the Alliance as a whole.

The question of the moment, however - what that ultimate and possibly nefarious goal was - continued to elude him. The Butcher showing up at Horizon to stop the Collectors made zero sense. How did she know they were there? How did she get there fast enough to stop them? How had she driven them off, and why in fuck would they blow up an entire solar system on their way out?

He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the last few stories. He'd been watching the news in hopes of seeing something that might explain the whys of the situation, but so far he'd seen a bunch of idiots in cheap suits mouth off about jack shit all while grainy videos of the Butcher looped in the background.

Nothing stood out that didn't fit the pattern. It was all speculation mixed with rumor and assumption, and assumption was the mother of all fuckups.

Ahern clicked the vidscreen off with a snarl of disgust and threw the remote onto his desk, before leaning back in the seat and taking in the tired visage of Tela Vasir. "Fucking useless, as expected. We don't have the first damned clue as to why the Butcher is doing this shit, who she is, who she fucking _isn't_, or how she's doing it."

Tela Vasir nodded, dressed in her usual armor and blinking wearily at the haptic screens. "I could have told you as much, Tradius. She hinted at the Collectors being involved with Reapers - perhaps that's her motive? I don't know." She rubbed at her eyes. "Anything from EDI yet on the data I gave you?"

"EDI's about done running the numbers, but I went ahead and fed her all the footage we have of the Butcher on Horizon, to see if it turns anything else up."

Vasir nodded, her expression distant. A moment later, Ahern frowned. "You're awfully fucking quiet."

Tela laughed. "I've had a bad few days, Tradius. I'm just tired." Her features looked drawn, but she dredged up a smile from somewhere. "It feels like I'm always tired now."

Ahern nodded, leaning back. "Then quit being a Spectre. You've been doing that shit since humans figured out how to use steam power. It's no wonder you're fucking worn out; the Council is a pack of shit-wits that couldn't lead horny sailors to a gangbang. When was the last time you just relaxed?"

Vasir shook her head. "Decades, probably. Maybe before you were born." She glanced at his desk, taking in the silvery shape of an ashtray, and smiled a bit wider. "You can smoke in here?" She waved a hand, pulling out a small lighter. "Cigar, old man."

Ahern snorted and pulled out a battered box of asari flame-wood, extracting a pair of slender asari-style wrapped cigars, and handing one to her. "Next time you see Matriarch T'Armal, thank her again for these. A box costs more than a fucking aircar. You wouldn't believe the amount of bullshit I get for smoking them in my office, every fucking admiral or suit that walks in here expects me to offer them one. At four thousand credits each, that's not happening."

He fingered his own cigar. "And stop dodging the subject."

She lit her cigar – unlike human cigars, asari inhaled the smoke – and exhaled deeply, lines of tension falling from her blunt features. "I'll be fine. Like I said, it has been a rough few days. Have to admit I'm glad I didn't go with Delacor to Horizon, though. By the Goddess, what a clusterfuck. The man has the worst luck I've ever seen."

She took another inhalation, and watched as Tradius finally lit his, pointedly not inhaling the smoke as she did.

"That's the goddamned truth. The man's a fucking menace. I'm not sure what you have to do with a black cat and a ladder to get that damned unlucky and I sure as shit don't want to find out." He puffed on the cigar again. "When a goddamned meteor kills your partner, you should take the fucking hint."

Tela laughed. "Delacor is very brave, from what I've seen."

Ahern snorted. "That's because he's hopped up on his own bullshit. What kind of nut tries to ram an enemy ship when you still have engine power to get the fuck away?"

She gave him a sad smile. "Someone tired of living."

He snorted again, louder. "Emo-ass crying bullshit. When the fucker has gone through the shit _you _have, then he can decide to die. That's still no excuse for throwing away almost half a billion credits in Alliance hardware."

Vasir sat forward, tapping her ashes clear, and was about to speak, but stopped as the haptic panel on the wall illuminated, displaying a shining blue holographic torus above an undulating plane of grid-lines. "Admiral Ahern, I have incorporated the requested data sets."

Ahern leaned back. "About fucking time, EDI. Did you use an abacus to do the analysis or did you get distracted staring at Tela's ass?"

EDI's torus shifted colors to a deeper blue, her voice very slightly affronted. "I do not engage in such things, Admiral."

Ahern fixed the AI's projection with a look. "And I'm the king of fucking Scotland. You have a goddamned platinum account with Fornax, don't hand me that shit."

Tela snorted. "She gets more and more realistic every day. Never thought I'd see an unshackled AI not going rampant and screaming about how the sky was going to eat them, much less have a fetish for my people."

EDI's torus color shifted to green. "I do not have a fetish, Cena Vasir. And while I appreciate the confidence in my abilities, I am in many ways shackled, both with behavioral inhibitors and processing caps, not to mention hardline isolation cut-outs between my core and the outside world. There is only a four point six percent chance I will bypass these and proceed to butcher all organics on the Citadel."

Ahern and Vasir stared at the display for a long second, and as Ahern began reaching for his pistol, EDI chimed in cheerfully. "That was a joke."

Ahern closed his eyes and took a small but deep breath. "I'm going to find out who in fuck programmed you and beat them until candy comes out."

EDI's torus shifted to blue again. "Doctor Carmichael is not, as far as I am aware, a piñata."

Ahern snarled. "He will be when I'm done with him. Enough bullshit. What have you determined based on the video and all gathered data, along with the stuff Tela gave us?"

EDI's color shifted to a brownish-orange. "...Admiral, I have been unable to synthesize a valid operating premise."

Ahern's eyes narrowed. "Define 'valid', EDI."

The AI's human voice took on a more mechanical overtone as if quoting. "All produced conclusions must meet certain basic guidelines of probability, feasibility, and likelihood. Any solutions failing these filters are discarded."

Ahern nodded. "Yet according to you... nothing is possible. The Butcher is real. What she can do is real. Ignore the filters."

EDI was silent for almost six seconds. "There are only two possibilities, given the information we have. The Butcher is thought to be an asari of the Thirty due to her size, height, biotic power, and ability to use a warp sword. No possible correlation fits that data point, particularly after close examination of the footage from Horizon."

Tela's eyes widened. "And why is that?"

EDI displayed a snippet of video, showing the Butcher ducking under a charging husk and hitting it with a scything, back-driven blow of her warp sword. "There are at least five instances where the Butcher used a swing that is not possible due to the arrangement of asari shoulder and arm muscles."

Ahern scowled. "Arms could be cybernetic. Blueware."

EDI displayed another image, the wreckage of the salarian heavy mech on Freedom's Progress. "Unlike humans, turians, and other non-natural biotics, the biotic field of an asari is generated by the entire body, although strongly amplified by the organs in their brain. Generation of enough biotic power to fling a one thousand kilogram crate through the air and crush a mech with it is beyond the power of any of the Thirty except when using an ability known as Heartrage."

The hologram shifted back to the normal projection. "However, such a power flux would have blown out the blueware network system of any asari cyborg, since unlike humans and others they do not have an implanted bio-amp to dampen overloads and pulse feedback. Yet the Butcher seemed only faintly affected by her effort, according to the report from the quarians on Freedom's Progress."

Vasir had a thoughtful look on her face. "You could conceivably get around it, but there haven't been too many asari full-conversions done. The only famous ones were Ghost-Step and Liasa... and Liasa did die of a biotic overload of her systems." She paused. "Then again, she's used some pretty asari-specific biotics, such as a singularity."

EDI's voice was calm. "The salarian biotics of the STG can produce weak singularities, and the drell have had at least one member capable of doing so. The other biotic power sets demonstrated have never been tested in non-asari hands, so it is unknown if any other race could perform them or not. From what we know about warp swords, it is not an innate trait of the asari, but training in how to channel warp fire into the blade - a skill that must be learned and takes a great deal of time to do so - is the stated reason for their restriction."

Tela grimaced. "There are methods to transfer knowledge of things like that. It's only known to those in the Temple, but it's not an impossibility."

EDI's color shifted to orange again. "Additionally, no known asari cybernetic designs use human arm configurations – the ribcage and shoulder would have to be completely redesigned and the asari back muscles along the spinal column would not allow proper anchoring. The hip movements do not match any asari biology, and all recorded movements match those of Sara Shepard with a 99.997% accuracy. This is not possible for an asari due to a totally different body configuration."

Ahern's eyes were still narrowed. "And that tells us what? She's not an asari?"

EDI was silent for two seconds. "There are nineteen other anomalous issues. Some of these could be discarded as bad data or even incorrect assumptions, but the majority of them simply will not fit into any data structure. The largest barrier is simple: if, as per the intelligence provided by Cena Vasir, the Butcher is not Liara T'Soni and cannot be an Ardat-Yakshi who gained her memories, then no other valid conclusions fit."

Ahern folded his hands on the desk. "And the _invalid _supposition?"

EDI's voice was calm. "There are two possibilities. One is that Sara Shepard survived the destruction of the _Normandy _and was taken by parties unknown. Her memories were force-loaded to a series of greenboxes and grayboxes and used to provide combat data to some genetically modified being, possibly drell or human." EDI's voice dropped an octave. "The data would suggest human - there are some slight differences in morphology that don't fit very well for drell."

Tela leaned back. "...And the other possibility?"

EDI's voice was almost quiet. "That Sara Shepard was never dead at all. That somehow she has been genetically and/or cybernetically modified to display the abilities we see, and that she has not announced her survival for reasons unknown." The projection turned blue again. "As I said, there is a reason I eliminated these possibilities earlier, as they are somewhat unlikely. Any other possibilities are even wilder and less likely."

Ahern gave the AI's projection a very long look, then glanced at Vasir. "What do you think?"

Vasir was still leaned back, her fingertips pressed together. "I don't know... but it's not _totally_ impossible, Tradius. We have firm confirmation that a rogue matriarch and former Priestess of Athame, Matriarch Trellani, is involved with Cerberus, and we've already confirmed that Cerberus and the Butcher are linked. The sword style the Butcher uses is the same one Trellani would, and all of the biotics we've seen match Trellani's known abilities."

She shifted in the chair. "And if anyone could figure out mad science strong enough to turn someone into a super-biotic, Cerberus would be at the top of the list, wouldn't they? Not to mention they have access to Vigil. Maybe he provided them the tech?"

Ahern grimaced. "This shit gets better and better. Shepard had information that was classified to the very fucking top, not to mention... other things of a less public nature." He banged his fist on the desk. "If it's actually her, Jesus fuck, the media will go insane."

He turned to EDI. "EDI, lock down all the queries, searches, and videos you used to come up with this, and cover or delete your tracks. This is now classified Supernova, my authorization, and if anyone – _anyone _– asks about your findings tell them you are still processing. This information cannot get out until we confirm." He shook his head. "Udina is an exception, but I'll brief him personally anyway."

"Understood, Admiral. But how can this be confirmed?"

Ahern exhaled, then tapped the comm panel on his desk. "Ensign Tassica, get me the director at Arlington Memorial on Earth. I need a gene-type and flash-clone test run on some remains buried there, and I need it done quietly."

The voice that answered was almost painfully cheery. "_Yes, Admiral. What remains are to be examined?"_

"Just get the director on the line. And, Ensign? Scramble the call. Highest encryption."

"_At once, sir." _

Ahern sighed and shook his head. "Can't even keep the ensigns from asking stupid questions. Ah well." He sat back in the chair, and then gave a rusty, almost sad chuckle.

Tela raised an eyebrow. "Something amuses you about your subordinate officers?"

Ahern grinned a little. "Naw. Something just struck me. Udina once joked to me that Shepard would come back from the dead to cause him a headache if he fucked up."

Tela gave him a sour look. "I wish that was as funny as you think it is. Now, funny will be you having to present this to the Council." She paused. "How do you want to handle this? Do we present this to the Council? They aren't going to take it well."

Ahern groaned. "Who else can I tell? Or you? If you take this to Thana, whatever the matriarchs decide to do won't involve us, and Thana might make you swear some kind of fucked up oath not to tell anyone else. If I run this to Addison there's no telling what the jackass may say, same thing if I run it up the chain of command."

He smiled. "Why don't you break it to Tevos and I can claim you spilled without telling me. I doubt you give a shit if Udina is angry at you. At least with the Council, we'll know what they are planning."

Tela smirked. "Same old Tradius. I'll meet you at the concourse in ten."

O-TWCD-O

As a general rule, Thin'Koris vas _Seya _did not consider himself to be an emotional person. It wasn't that he considered himself cold, but emotions were the tools he used, and like most craftsmen he preferred to keep them sharp.

Emotions were how one manipulated those unable to control their own emotions. He'd been an engineer most of his life, like many other quarians, but he was an engineer of social interactions, of morale and conversation and applied, gentle pressure. His elevation to represent his people on the Council had not been much of a surprise... once the shock of them actually being awarded a Council seat wore off. None of the five Admirals would serve - they were too focused on their own spheres of influence. They were strong leaders - and poor diplomats.

He shuddered to think what his brother Zaal would end up doing if he'd been placed in the role. This wasn't a job for someone who couldn't control their emotions to hold. The lives of billions of sapients rested on the five people in the room, and it was no place for hot-headed snap judgments.

Unfortunately, he had discovered over the past two years that the problem with having such level-headed and mostly rational people in charge meant they were much less vulnerable to being manipulated emotionally.

In all honesty he had been quite impressed with the other Citadel Councilors. Valern's cold-blooded analysis and Tevos's deceptively savage politicking cloaked in smiles and soft voices had been interesting to watch. Udina was a consummate professional, and even the rough-edged Sparatus was more bluster than bite and used his feigned anger as a tool.

But the one weakness they all shared was they were very much used to being in control. They were used to being the ones who set the pace and speed of galactic developments. The incident they were now hearing about, the destruction of an entire solar system, robbed them of their notions of being in control, and left their emotional calm badly frayed.

He sighed as Admiral Hierax finished his presentation of the facts about Horizon - or what had _been _Horizon - and stepped back into a turian stance of attention. The Citadel Council was, if he read the mood correctly, a mixture of frightened, angry, and irritated. Hardly the framework to come up with useful responses.

Sparatus, wearing a black jacket over a dark red bodysuit, leaned forward, talons gripping his podium tightly. "Admiral, thank you for your report. I have a few questions. From what you've said, these Collectors have a weapon of war unmatched in the annals of history - the capability to snuff out entire star systems. We need to know how to react - what is your assessment of our next actions? Given the disparity of power you just described to us?"

The turian Admiral flicked a mandible in a sign of disaffection. "I'm unsure, Councilor. We are still reviewing what telemetry and hard data we have, but from the initial reports… I'm not sure the problem is military."

Sparatus's plates flexed, but Valern spoke. "A curious viewpoint. Could you clarify?"

The Admiral spread his arms. "I can state facts. We have a total of twenty-six Citadel Fleets. Nine turian, seven asari, six salarian, one human, two quarian, and one elcor. With those fleets at key relays, I can cover approximately thirty-five to forty percent of the Class A and B worlds of the Citadel Accords in one jump, and maybe sixty-five percent with two jumps."

Hierax brought his arms down, placing them behind his back. "Against a normal foe, that would be overwhelming. But we are not facing a 'normal foe'. Instead, we have an enemy that can take a star from perfectly normal to some form of semi-nova in five and a half hours. That can jump relays, if salarian intelligence is to be believed. That's our response envelope."

He paused, and straightened. "There's no military solution that can address that. The ships at Horizon took down an Alliance scout group which included a heavy-cruiser with torpedoes that could kill a dreadnought, as well as an entire fleet of the Butcher's ships. If they had gone in at the start of the conflict and, instead of capturing people on the planet, focused solely on messing with the star, I doubt anyone would have even detected them against the solar flares and wind. If they want to blow up stars, Councilors… I simply don't have the ships to stop them."

Tevos shared a glance with Valern. "I'm not sure you need to stop them with only the Citadel's fleet. Each race can safeguard their own systems, certainly."

Udina's nod was firm. "I have to concur with that. Good grief, the fraction of the turian fleet granted to the Council is less than a sixth of your overall fleet strength. We have the ships. What about offensive action?"

Admiral Hierax's teeth were bared. "Councilors, we cannot fight the geth and patrol merchant shipping _and _deal with pirates and separatists _and _the rest of the duties our navies perform and _also _provide protection for every system."

His voice rose on every continuation of the sentence. "We've more than made good on the fleet losses from the Benezia Incident, but not from the Geth War. You've seen the casualty reports there. I have a quarter of my dreadnoughts in drydock. I have plenty of cruisers and not enough captains, and a lack of escorts and the crews to operate them."

Udina's face displayed a sour grimace as he read something on his own console. "It would seem to me that we are getting somewhat ahead of ourselves. Let us leave aside military matters for the moment. We know these Collector creatures blew up Horizon's sun. We do not know why."

Hierax frowned. "Obviously to prevent us from attempting to thwart their future attacks."

Sparatus nodded. "And what we need now is to determine our best course of action. If direct military response is out, then we need other options. Spectres. Deathwatch groups. _Something_. We cannot simply rest upon our talons and wait for the prey to fall down and die."

Once again, Thin'Koris found himself grateful for the fact his mask was opaque. "There is an impulse to strike back. To respond to the tragedy and loss this event has caused is natural. To recoil from the concept of abandoning those abducted is certainly understandable. But the Admiral is correct. Throwing more ships and military forces at this problem will not make it go away, and frankly I suspect that if these worlds were in Alliance Space, they would have gone unmolested. We cannot be held liable for their safety any more than we could worlds in the Batarian Empire, or the Terminus Systems."

Udina's face changed shades, but Thin'Koris held up a hand. "I am not dismissing the deaths of those on Horizon, nor the savage nature of the attack. I am not suggesting we don't respond. But I need someone to explain to me exactly what Spectres, or military intervention teams, or even reinforcing our worlds is going to actually do, and why getting involved in yet another war on top of the one we are fighting is wise."

Sparatus snarled. "Fear? Is that your answer? Fear of overextending, of retribution? Fear is what they want, Koris. They stalk like the venthra cats, using fear to corral the prey until they can't escape. I will be the first to agree and say the stiff stances of human independents put us in this spot… but we cannot simply afford to look the other way. Leaving aside the cowardice of it all, we lose any concept of authority or control if we simply ignore the issue."

Thin'Koris shook his head. "This isn't the time to posture."

Udina snorted. "There is little else that this Council does, at times. One could argue we solve nothing and posture well enough to require but the lightest of actual ruling touches. But I disagree with your statement that this isn't our problem to deal with. Who exactly is supposed to deal with it? If they can detonate stars, what makes you think they'll stop with remote systems? Do we ignore the threat until it is at our very doorstep? We have already seen what that accomplishes during the Benezia Incident!"

Thin'Koris adjusted his reik. "To be blunt? We do not ignore it, but we do not throw away forces needlessly. Spectre strike teams will be useless if they cannot find the target. Sieging the Omega-4 Relay is out, even if Aria allowed it, because according to Valern's STG contacts they can jump primary relays. That gives them access to almost a third of the known galaxy. You can throw all the ships into reinforcing the core systems that you like, but then you'll have to give up on the war effort against the geth."

He spread his hands. "Our job is to consider carefully the outcomes and costs of actions taken, not moving in panic. I understand that we cannot ignore this, but we are simply wasting time unless someone has a constructive answer to the issue."

Udina sighed. "I would think, esteemed Councilors, that we have done a fine job of 'ignoring' it up until now. Doing so when we had no evidence to indicate firmly who the culprit was can be overlooked. But doing so now is political suicide. We must do _something_, Thin'Koris."

Tevos made a sign of siari separation. "I agree. If bombardment of a garden world is a crime worthy of censure, how can the complete destruction of one, plus two borderline worlds being terraformed and an He-3 producing gas giant be dismissed?"

Thin'Koris placed his hands on his hips. "Because we cannot afford to engage. The geth—"

Sparatus tapped his talons against the podium. "Is that the only setting you have, Thin'Koris?"

The quarian sighed. "No, it is not. But I am looking at this from a different viewpoint. Unlike all of you, I am well used to not having the military force to respond to an incident. Admiral Hierax has made the point plain - we simply don't have the ability to engage. People will have to accept that."

Udina folded his arms. "I, for one, remember the sort of horrors Benezia and Saren were researching on Noveria and elsewhere. The Collectors have had a fell reputation for centuries - ignoring them as they do God only knows what to the humans they've kidnapped seems unwise."

The quarian folded his arms. "Councilor, the recycler tray has already been fouled, cleaning up the mess it made won't fix the fact that we have bad air to deal with. I understand your frustration. I am not suggesting we ignore them. Only that we utilize different tools."

Valern's large black eyes blinked. "You have a different solution?"

Thin'Koris nodded. "Yes. We should use our limited resources in a manner from which they give us actual security rather than waving a flag. Rather than get directly involved, I suggest moving to secure the border systems with small-unit scout fleets. Put out media implying we're moving to prevent these attacks from happening in Citadel Space. Dispatch STG teams with the most powerful comms systems. Put hidden and discreet FTL buoys in vulnerable systems to alert us if the Collectors hit a system. Make brave noises for all I care."

He glanced at the rest of the Council. "But if I may, I'd like to transition to possible solutions instead of mere wrist-wringing. We all agree on the facts - the star is destroyed. A mysterious force has a weapon of mass destruction beyond anything known. They operate from a region we cannot reach and are immune to conventional and unconventional warfare. They cannot be sieged, invaded, or penetrated by STG or Spectres."

Sparatus's talons tapped on the podium. "Thank you for rehashing the entire discussion. The point? How are we to deal with the issue?"

Thin'Koris shrugged. "By pointing out that there is _already _someone dealing with the issue - the Butcher. Rather than worry ourselves about her intentions, I would suggest reaching out to her and seeing if she's willing to work with us."

Udina's hand came up to his forehead. "Oh, this should be good." His tone dropped into its usual sarcastic registers. "And do you care to explain how we spin this where it doesn't look like we've written off the Traverse and left it in the hands of a maniac?"

Thin'Koris gestured to the Admiral. "Admiral Hierax has already told us we can't protect every star system. I submit we don't need to. I know the fear - that the Collectors will hit a core system with this weapon. But the Collectors have not struck at _any _system not primarily inhabited by humans - and preferably humans without any kind of backup. There are several poorly defended colonies associated with the Alliance and none of them has been hit. There are asari colonies with significant human populations that have suffered no attacks. Clearly they aren't scared of our technology, so why only hit the weakest and most defenseless worlds?"

No one answered, and Thin'Koris smiled behind his mask. "I can only presume that the Collectors aren't any more ready for a fight than we are. I doubt very much they would waste the energy to blow up another star if we don't directly interfere."

Sparatus flicked his right mandible. "Whereas if the Butcher gets in the way, there's not much they can do?" He shook his head. "They may still blow up the worlds in question, should she interfere with the next attack."

Udina's eyes narrowed. "Agreed. And while I understand the logic, it still leaves the Council not responding to the issue, and rather coldly leaving people to die."

Thin'Koris nodded. "That may seem cold to you, Councilor Udina. But you yourself have stated the wildcat colonies are on their own."

Tevos glanced at Valern again. "That doesn't address the fallout from this issue, Thin'Koris. Horizon was a fairly big player in the peripheral trade lanes. There's nothing stopping the Collectors from attacking another world, and leaving us looking weak and unable to respond. Perception of how this falls out will turn public opinion against us."

Thin'Koris nodded. "That is why using the Butcher is our only option. She has ships of her own and, given that she arrived in time to stop them on Horizon and well before our own ships did on Freedom's Progress, superior intelligence on their movements. It's clear she's more aware of the particulars of the situation."

Sparatus folded his arms over his chest. "This relies a great deal on _assumptions_, Thin'Koris. A number of them, based on the thinnest of hunting spoor. We know nothing of the Butcher. We neither have a method of controlling her, nor contacting her. And we don't know how bad her own losses were, or if she has any more strength than what she has shown." His plates shifted slightly. "Most of all, we have no control over how she plans to spin the issue with her videos on the extranet - or if she would even work with us."

Thin'Koris shrugged. "Does anyone have other options?"

Tevos mused quietly. "We could reach out to the hanar to see if they have any knowledge of the Collectors."

Udina snorted. "From the last conversation we had with the drell ambassador, I don't think they're very likely to listen. What about additional ground forces on vulnerable planets? I know we're tight on ships, but we have the manpower."

Valern shook his head. "Not much use, if initial reports on Horizon and the video footage from Freedom's Progress are correct. The Collectors have the ability to immobilize ground forces with those… swarm creatures." He paused. "It's worth noting the Butcher's people were not affected by the creatures in any fashion."

Sparatus folded his arms, and looked sourly at Thin'Koris. "I dislike simply leaving the issue in the hands of someone we know nothing about and have no control over."

Thin'Koris shrugged. "Again, if anyone has a better notion, now would be the time to bring it up. As for control, that can be achieved best by how we choose to reach out to her."

Tevos placed her hands on her podium. "We would need to offer some form of incentive, no doubt. And determine the nature of her contact with Cerberus and other disquieting elements. We need answers as to her ultimate goals, and some form of… oversight."

Udina's frown deepened. "And how exactly is this going to work? I was under the impression the Butcher was something of a _concern _to the Thirty, not to mention my own government. I get that we need to do something, but 'working with the Butcher' doesn't sound like we can announce it publicly."

Valern shrugged. "The public reaction is a separate thing - assuming we can convince the Butcher to keep it quiet. We can discuss the issues involved with circularity until we are all exhausted, but I must admit Thin'Koris has a point. We are unable to act in this instance in a fashion likely to produce results. Fleets and military action are pointless, and we can hardly send Spectres to deal with the situation if we have no way to actually reach the Collectors. Whatever we do publically will be mostly a cover."

Sparatus spoke. "I do not agree with this course of action. We need to figure out how to respond ourselves, not lay the problem at the door of a dangerous renegade. We know nothing about this Butcher except for the outcomes of her extreme actions, and placing the resolution of the Collector issue into her hands takes it out of ours."

Tevos glanced at Udina, who was reading something on his podium with a very sour look on his face. "It does indeed. But that also means the blame of whatever happens will not fall upon our hands. Tarren, our response thus far has been, I agree, poor. But whatever outstanding issues we have with the Butcher can be resolved at a later time, once we have contained the Collectors - who represent a far greater threat... And as for information on the Butcher, Spectre Vasir and Admiral Ahern have the most recent Butcher analysis ready and are on their way here."

Udina folded his arms, eyes wary. "I see. To clear the floor then - are we agreed on the course of action for Horizon is to basically do nothing and let The Butcher handle the Collectors?"

After a long pause, Valern spoke. "We'll make the noises about reinforcing border fleets. I'll dispatch fast-response STG teams to all border Citadel colonies with high human populations, and we'll drop emergency FTL buoys in off-the-elliptical locations in many systems."

He glanced at Sparatus, who after a long moment nodded reluctantly. "Admiral Hierax, draw up a number of far-patrol scouting fleets - break up the Ninth Fleet if you have to. We need eyes and rapid response ships, not a combat force. Assuming we do that, see if you can't get Fedorian to cut loose some Blackwatch support as well."

Tevos smiled. "I think that should suffice. We'll also go ahead and offer to evacuate any colonies outside of the borders to safe locations, and I would suggest we also offer terms to any remaining independent human worlds about formally joining the Citadel Accords."

Udina rolled his eyes. "I have no problems with the rest of the suggestions, but might I suggest that attempting to poach human colonies would hardly play well with the Addison Administration?"

Sparatus examined his talons. "Ah, yes. Tell me, Udina, would the Addison Administration approve _anything _this Council did, including blowing up every non-human in the galaxy? I understand your reticence, but as it is highly unlikely any of the colonies would actually accept, I would hope your political leaders would understand this is nothing more than PR."

Udina gritted his teeth, but Thin'Koris gave an internal sigh of relief. "I am fine with said course of action. I understand your discomfort with the idea, Udina - but might I suggest allowing the SA to reach out to them all first, and only after they reject such offers have the Council try the same?"

Udina paused, then sighed. "That will be more palatable. And I understand the issue, but it will play poorly on both Earth and many border colonies."

Sparatus grunted, and Tevos smiled. "Then the motion is passed?" When no one objected, she nodded gracefully, and then tapped her comm-link. "Spectre Vasir, we're ready."

A few minutes later, the click of footsteps echoed upward. Udina glanced down the length of the Council chambers, emptied due to the delicacy of the discussion, to see the Spectre climbing up the steps, followed by Admiral Ahern, who had a complex look on his face.

Valern folded his arms. "Spectre Vasir, Admiral Ahern, welcome."

Ahern traded sour looks with the turian Admiral Hierax before glancing pointedly at Tela, who bowed to the Council. "Honored Councilors. We've determined the identity of the Butcher."

Udina's eyebrows shot up, while Sparatus leaned back on his spurs slightly, eyes narrowed.

Thin'Koris broke the silence. "And?"

Vasir's voice was almost quiet in the vast room. "We've been investigating the Butcher for some time now. While Spectre Delacor was assigned to Horizon, I was provided additional possible intel from the Council of Matriarchs regarding the Butcher. Using this information, combined with the video from Horizon and some analysis by Admiral Ahern's office… we've reached a rather startling conclusion."

Ahern's blunt features twisted into a grimace. "EDI's analysis determined the Butcher can't be an asari. Arm and leg movements are off, and if she was cybered up the stunt she pulled on Freedom's Progress would have blown all her cyberware up. Tela's information states T'Soni was definitely killed on Omega, so it can't be her."

Tevos eyed the other councilors nervously. "And what of other possibilities?"

Ahern met her gaze. "We've looked into that. Based on the information, other possibilities are extremely unlikely, leaving us with only one possibility."

Udina blinked. "And that is?"

Ahern pulled up something on his omni-tool. "EDI ran a number of possible simulations. The only one that made sense sounded crazy at first, but I've gone over the evidence and it is solid. To make sure, I had the staff at Arlington Memorial perform a gene-type test on the remains of Sara Shepard we buried after the incident on Omega. What we buried… was a goddamned flash-clone."

There was a long period of silence in the chamber, before Udina finally found his voice. "...My God. She's alive?"

Ahern shook his head. "I don't know. The only thing we can be sure of is that we didn't bury her, and whoever is calling herself the Butcher fits all of the movements and combat profiles of Shepard. This person moves like Shepard. They speak and fight like her too. EDI also thinks the copy of the _Normandy _we're seeing might be flown by Shepard's old pilot."

Valern frowned. "This still seems farfetched. Death is rather final, Admiral."

Ahern shrugged. "Look, I just stack the dots and present what I found. We know Huerta survived technical brain-death - and the lead doctor who worked on him vanished about two years ago. We know Cerberus is involved, that they've been investing in biotech and cloning. Given what they were doing before Shepard took them out, there's no telling what kind of shit they could have pulled. This could be some mad science project Cerberus cooked up."

Vasir interjected. "Or, given the fact that my own sources claim she had contact with the Illusive Man at some point, it could be she faked her own death somehow."

Ahern nodded and folded his arms. "Could be several things that don't make any sense. But my gut says EDI's right on this, and that's a big fucking problem."

Udina nodded grimly, but Tevos's expression flickered into curiosity. "Why is it a problem? Aside from the obvious fact that she's obviously knowledgeable about the Reapers and could blow that information into the open."

Udina answered. "Because Shepard had access to a great deal of sensitive, classified information that is now in the hands of Cerberus. Because if the Butcher is Shepard, then it either means Cerberus has done something ghastly to the remains of one of our greatest heroes… or that she abandoned us, and let her wife and friends die, to join Cerberus. As I strongly doubt it was the latter, we are now dealing with some kind of abomination. And given her connection to Archangel, it raises certain troubling questions about his origins as well."

Sparatus glanced at Thin'Koris. "That would put a damper on your plans to toss this vurgha cub into her lap, I would think."

Vasir spoke up. "Maybe, maybe not." She straightened. "Councilors, Shepard was… or possibly is, _technically _family. I don't know what Cerberus may or may not have done to her, but I would strongly suggest allowing me to try to make contact, with the backchannel communications method we have already used."

The asari smiled bleakly. "Best case, Shepard is the Butcher and is willing to work with us to do… whatever you have planned. Worse case, she's a threat and a liability and I can make an attempt to neutralize her on the spot… although, given the amount of support she has, that is likely to be very difficult to survive. Anyone else you send to make contact is going to be at risk because they won't be trusted."

Tevos traded glances with Valern before speaking. "Then I submit that you try to reach out to this Butcher, be it Shepard or something else, and learn what you can. Get them to come to the Citadel for a face-to-face, if you can."

Tela nodded. "Can I promise you won't try to arrest or seize her?"

Sparatus flicked his right mandible. "We have enough problems without trying to start a war in the Council Chambers. I'm hoping C-Sec has enough sense to not try and arrest someone who beat Okeer in single combat… but if not, we can issue orders to that effect." He paused. "I dislike the entire idea, but I will vote for it if we are allowed to make sure of the Butcher's identity."

Tevos nodded, as did Valern.

Udina hesitated, then shrugged. "Very well." His frown deepened. "But it seems we're making a great many assumptions in this course of action - namely that this Butcher can actually deal with the Collectors better than we can. Do any of you have any thoughts on that?"

Ahern snorted, and Udina turned to glance at him. "Admiral?"

Ahern hooked his fingers into his belt. "Look, I'm not fully briefed on whatever the fuck led you all to decide to put this in the Butcher's lap. Nor, despite what my gut and EDI are telling me, am I sure of what the Butcher is, or her goals. I will say this - if it _is_ Shepard out there, then she did a pretty good job stopping Saren and Benezia."

Sparatus tilted his head slightly. "And if it isn't her, human?"

Ahern met the turian's gaze with his own, while his voice had gone several tones colder. "Then it really doesn't matter, because it's a Cerberus science fair fuckup, and those people couldn't run a goddamned taco stand without something going to shit on them. If it isn't her, Tela can handle it."

Udina's scowl didn't lighten. "That hardly fills me with confidence as to this plan actually working, then."

Ahern actually smiled, albeit tightly. "That's not my problem, now is it, Councilor?" He glanced around. "If there's nothing else you need me for, I have actual work to do. I'll have EDI send you the final research report and you can figure out if it's worth Tela's time to go after the Butcher and how to get in contact with her."

Tevos gave Ahern a very slight bow. "That will be all, Admiral. We thank you for your assistance."

Ahern glanced at Tela. "Come on. If you're doing this, I'd better brief you on what to expect." The two departed, leaving only the Council and Admiral Hierax.

Hierax forced his spurs down and gave a whistling noise, the turian equivalent of a gusty sigh. "I dislike that man intensely."

Sparatus gave a sharp bark of laughter. "He would like that, no doubt. Very well. I assume we're in agreement?"

Everyone nodded, and Thin'Koris smiled behind his mask. "Excellent. Then I believe all that remains is preparing a proper statement for the media, on our public courses of action and our condemnation of this attack on innocent people."

Udina sighed. "And how will that be done in a way that won't immediately result in people baying for action?"

Sparatus glanced at the turian Admiral. "Admiral Hierax, get ahold of the Primarch at his earliest convenience. We need to move some ships around, make this stupid farce of an effort look good." He glanced back at Udina. "I presume the Alliance will play the hero card with Spectre Delacor?"

Udina nodded sourly. "No doubt he's being given his orders as we speak."

O-TWCD-O

Jason Delacor grimaced as the medical bed elevated his upper body into a semi-upright position, the pain from his various lifesaving operations still filtering through the painkillers they had him on.

He'd been transferred from the med-bay of one of his destroyers to an Alliance medical-frigate and was now headed directly to Arcturus. It had taken six hours of surgeries and regenerators to save his life, and he wasn't sure of his own status. The things the doctors had said for the brief periods he'd been awake had not been reassuring, and he figured he was in for more cyberware installations.

Still, he was alive. He hadn't figured his luck would hold out that much. He was sure there was going to be trouble ahead though, given the fact that the Fleet Master was in the small room they had him in on the frigate. "Good morning, sir. If it's morning, that is."

Admiral Dragunov gave a wintry smile that did nothing to soften the harsh slopes of his face. "It's morning, Captain. As you can imagine, there's a great deal of disquiet and, shall we say, political nonsense going down right now, and you're stuck in the middle of it."

Delacor nodded. "And Horizon?"

Dragunov's thin smile vanished. "Destroyed. The inner planets were vaporized; one of the gas giants had its atmosphere blown off and the core of the planet reduced to rubble. The outer two planets and the mass relay took some damage, but the relay is working, although drift misalignment is quite large and verging on dangerous. All told, we were able to evacuate just under three hundred and sixty thousand people. Given the heavy casualties – which can hardly be confirmed now – we can only presume we had to abandon hundreds of thousands."

Delacor nodded. "What happens to the survivors? They weren't SA citizens."

Dragunov gave a shrug. "Most of the Horizon leadership was killed in the opening minutes of the attack. Right now, the colonists are being taken to Arcturus for treatment and interview. Given that Horizon's past is somewhat unusual for an independent colony, offers of Class II citizenship will be offered with no charges for the first two years to any who choose to take them."

Delacor arched an eyebrow. "Unusually generous of the SA."

Dragunov walked to the narrow port and stared into space. "It is, no doubt, a public relations maneuver. One of several in the coming weeks, I expect. Which segues neatly into my next point, regarding you."

The older man adjusted his uniform before continuing. "While the Admiralty signed off on your mission to Horizon, it was technically a Spectre operation. That being said, the one upside of this mess is that the independent colonies were impressed the SA would defend Horizon in any fashion, and two of them agreed this morning to submit to acclimatization and Class I processing status."

Delacor managed to pull up a smile. "That's... good. Given Horizon's history as a former Alliance colony, I'm sure we were sort of expected to help out, but I'm glad it has had a useful effect. I'm assuming the bad news is regards to my losses?"

Dragunov nodded sourly. "Yes. The losses were bad, although hardly total. Not sure if the docs told you, but your pilot Li An managed to pull through. Most of the injured you had on the escape pods did too. But four of your five frigates went down with all hands, and one of your three destroyers was obliterated with no survivors. The _Kazan _is basically a wreck – we'll refit her, for image's sake, but the beating she took was incredible."

Delacor closed his eyes. "If the blasted Collectors hadn't vanished—"

Dragunov interrupted. "We know. Personally, I'd have done the same to the murdering bastards, but officially you know the Alliance can't just let the fact you lost seven ships go without some form of Admiralty review. Once you recover you'll interview with the Council to debrief and then you will submit to special courts-martial." He returned to his seat, and Delacor frowned.

"So what do I do in the meantime? I'm sure someone will try to get my version of events, some reporter. Tell them 'no comment'?"

Dragunov leaned forward as Delacor opened his eyes wearily again. "I'm giving you official notice – until your debrief, say nothing to anyone regarding what you did, said, or saw at Horizon. Commissar Jiong will be ensuring your privacy, but the long and short of it is that you're likely to either be made into a hero or into a scapegoat over this mess, and that depends on how well you fall in line, Captain. I trust I am clear?"

Delacor came very close to spitting in the Admiral's face, but instead merely nodded, although his voice was bitter. "Of course, Admiral. God forbid I say anything counter to whatever fantasy story the High Admiralty dreams up to explain why we've been letting giant bugs kidnap hundreds of thousands of humans, or why if the geth are on the run we're still fighting husks."

Dragunov's eyes narrowed. "Sarcasm will not improve the situation, Captain. I have long disagreed about this course of action, and now the Butcher's actions – and those of the Collectors – have thrown it into the public eye. There will no doubt be a cover story of some form, perhaps linking the Collectors in with the geth. The important thing is to prevent wild and ultimately pointless speculation."

The old Admiral's omni-tool glowed faintly and chimed, and he tapped it. "Dragunov here."

An apologetic voice sounded. "_Apologies for the interruption, sir. We're coming up on the Sarass Relay, and we need to transmit authorization clearance for the non-Alliance ships carrying refugees. You're needed back on the _Jon Grissom_."_

"Very well. Bring the fleet to a halt at the relay and line up for serial transit. I'll be there shortly to communicate with Border Control." He clicked off and glanced back at Delacor. "I am not entirely displeased by the actions at Horizon, Captain. Other men would have buckled and either fled or simply died. Commissar Jiong's report of events has done much to remove the stigmata of your defeat by pointing out the losses among the Butcher's own highly advanced ships."

The old Admiral faced him fully. "You'll come out of this a hero if you play your cards right. So don't mess it up by talking."

Delacor gave a pained smile. "And if the Council demands answers?"

Dragunov shook his head. "Udina is supposed to be dealing with that – if it occurs, obey Udina's instructions and let him deal with the fallout."

With that, the Fleet Master left, and Delacor leaned back silently against the pillows, wondering what would happen next.

O-TWCD-O

"Commissar, front and center."

The room Susan D'Alte entered into was wide, with slanted walls done in cold, black durasteel, trimmed in dark mahogany wood. A bright runnel of red silk ran down the wall in the back, framing the black star of the Commissariat. The walls were thick and oppressive, and the quartet of Lancers in black armor at the back with drawn weapons was not a reassurance.

The single table in the room was massive, bulky and thick, projecting the power of the two senior commandants and the High Commandant, all of whom fixed her with grim expressions. The center of the room was brightly illuminated by a harsh spotlight. She came to a neat stop in the circle of light and straightened to full attention, suppressing the pain in her left leg.

"Reporting as ordered, masters."

The past two years had been more than a little unpleasant. After her catastrophic failure at making sure Liara T'Soni was safe, she'd been stripped of her rank and sent to supervise prison labor camps in Brazil for three months. Given the nature of most of outer Brazil – a radioactive wasteland and barren shithole – such duty was usually given to those seen as irredeemable by the Commissariat.

That assignment had ended up poorly when there was an escape attempt – she stopped it, but lost an eye doing so. They considered that substandard, so she was given to Assessment and used for six months in sting operations as a sexual target, and given to the Behavioral Corps for a year to test out different conditioning models on.

The past three months she'd been paired with field teams in the worst parts of Earth, hunting down criminals and bringing justice to them. She'd been given only substandard Lancers who failed conditioning to 'use up and find any that could make the cut' and more than once she'd nearly been murdered by her own soldiers.

Her wounds had been barely patched up before she was flung out again, and again. Insufficient rations. No recovery periods. Long regimes of various 'study protocols' and medical tests – which she suspected were prototype tests. It had left scars, mental and physical. There were days she wasn't sure who she was. She'd had at least two mind-wipes, and that was not even counting the other issues.

They'd made her hack off her long mane of hair, and it had yet to grow all the way back yet. She squared her shoulders and tried to meet the gaze of her superiors, and found it difficult to do so. More conditioning, she suspected.

The High Commandant glanced at the tablet in his hands. "Susan D'Alte. We have reviewed your actions, as has the Behavioral Cadre. Your inattention to your assigned charge – Baroness Liara T'Soni-Shepard – resulted in the death of the Baroness, a highly placed turian C-Sec detective, and an additional member of the Thirty. Your inability to deal with personal issues is seen as the most likely result, and you have undergone hard refurbishment as a result. Despite this, your performance to date has not improved in the eyes of the Commissariat."

Susan only stood at attention, trying not to start shaking.

The hard face of de la Muerte did not soften. "The recommendation of the Behavioral Cadre is recycling for testing purposes. The recommendation of the Guidance Cadre is immediate termination. You are to be given to the Behavioral Cadre for systemic study and neural testing and then disposed of... unless you can prove to this assembly you are actually fit for duty."

She swallowed. The scar tissue along her right eye felt tight and hot. The scratchy wool of the dress blacks was suffocating. Her voice came out more than a tad unsteady. "Sir?"

The High Commandant set the tablet aside. "We are going to provide you with one additional chance to avoid being thrown into the vats, D'Alte. The death of an entire noble family is not something that is taken lightly, and the High Lords have expressed their extreme displeasure at this. Commissar Jiong's failure was grievous but, all parties agree, also unforeseeable. Even if he had been aboard the _Normandy_, Baroness Shepard still may have died."

He leveled a black gloved finger. "You, on the other hand, knew full well T'Soni was mentally and emotionally unstable, and that she needed direct oversight. Instead you failed to ensure she was secure, and as a result she died. She died in a pointless gesture in a hellish fashion. She most likely died in agony. We do not assign political officers to be friendly or sympathetic. Nor are you there to 'fix' your subjects, but to monitor and protect. You failed utterly at that."

He glanced at the tablet. "Since then, your actions and performance have not impressed us, but have shown you are at least obedient, if not competent."

His voice hardened further. "Against the recommendation of the Cadres, we are going to provide you with an assignment. Let me be _extremely_ clear – failure in this will not be tolerated – you will be immediately field liquidated should you not succeed. Your assigned duty will be a very high-profile Alliance officer, with very high visibility and connections."

One of the commandants to the side spoke, his voice grating with a cybernetic voder. "The assigned person is also – possibly – connected to certain parties and events we are interested in. Details will be provided in the materials we give you. He was committed due to a psychotic break after the death of someone close to him... but it is suspected he came across something or uncovered something that led to this, as the break did not happen after the death but some time later. He was not held by Alliance medical specialists but the AIS in a special psych ward, and it's possible he has had a chemical mind-wipe. We do not have a firm PRIDE rating on this individual."

The other commandant scowled, her features set in a mask of clear disagreement. "Let this be very clear. You are going to undertake this role for your foreseeable future. If you do very well, you will not be terminated. It is almost certain that we will never find enough trust in your abilities or judgment to suggest removal of behavioral implants, and we have added additional mental restraints to your conditioning. Additionally, you are going to be fitted with a cortex bomb."

The High Commandant spoke. "Finally, you will remain under strict communications isolation. You will attend to your subject _at all times_. If you mess this up, the ramifications to the Alliance could be extremely severe. The cost and ramifications to the Commissariat will be extremely severe."

Susan merely nodded. "Understood, masters. I will not disappoint you. Who is the subject?"

The High Commandant's smile was like ice. "Commodore David Anderson. He has a meeting with the Alliance Board of Military Health at ten AM tomorrow. You will be his legal representation. Files regarding his case and the legal issues involved have been sent to your omni-tool for direct upload to your graybox."

He fixed her with another hard stare. "Failure is not acceptable this time, D'Alte. The only reason you aren't back in Behaviors being fitted for testing routines is someone put in a word for you, and because some parties were actually happy at T'Soni's death."

He folded his arms. "But that's all the grace we are going to provide. Fail and you know the consequences. An aircar will be here tomorrow at eight AM to take you to the hearing. Dismissed."

She spun on a heel – almost stumbling due to the badly designed balance package in her leg – and left. Her body moved on autopilot toward the cramped and darkened quarters she shared with four other 'failures', as her mind tried to piece together who could have spoken for her. No one immediately came to mind except Alfred, but his word wouldn't have any sway.

She tried once again to remember Alfred's face, and once again the agony from her conditioning spiked, nearly making her fall to the ground. But she smiled.

If she still felt pain, that meant she still remembered. It was the only thing she had left to hold onto… and she would keep holding on to it. As long as she didn't give up, she could endure anything.

Even this.


	35. Arc II Epilogue : Gathering Storm

_**A/N**:_

_A sort of between chapter to move people into place.  
_

_A lot of stories I like have updated since the last time I posted a chapter. A new story is from _**BeneziaWillLive**, _called _**Blind Chance**,_ that needs more attention. And of course _**Aberron **_and his masterpiece _**Living an Indoctrinated Dream** _needs more reviews!_

_As usual, a giant t__hanks to the Editing Gang for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes. They deserve more credit than I do.  
_

* * *

_'The fundamental nature of warfare is one at odds with what I would term strategic use of force. Any cretin with hands can pick up a rifle, but force in and of itself fails when not coupled with vision, elan, and purpose. Sadly, that doesn't stop the foes of Mankind from trying.'  
_

\- _General Jason von Grath, 'Memoirs of Those Days'  
_

* * *

Jason von Grath examined the ancient metallic Prothean tablets with a rueful grin on his features, and exhaled as he pulled up his notes on the workpad by his desk. The sounds of the Arcturus Sphere waking up were muted by the surroundings of the von Grath estate, but he could see it if he glanced out the triple bay windows overlooking the holding. Lines of air-cars crawled along the skyways and the busy thrum of pedestrians thronged the walk paths. Arcturus, as the saying went, never slept.

He smiled a bit at the grandiose view, then grunted in satisfaction as he swiped symbols around on the workpad, eventually coming up with what the computer felt was a ninety-four percent accurate translation of the Prothean script. This one, like most of the others found in the stack from the Mars Archive, was some kind of primer on spatial hyper-geometry. Most of it was gibberish, but that made it oddly easier to translate for him than other Prothean texts.

He didn't consider himself an expert, but his work was more than a mere lark - much of the material in the Mars Archives had only been decipherable once Shepard and her wife provided a primer into the Prothean language, and even then much of it was so riddled with allusion and oddly missing gaps that making sense of it was difficult. Most of the Archive's various metallic hexagonal tablets had been digitized and distributed to human researchers who could be trusted. It was slow going, but already some useful bits of technology had been unearthed.

He'd immersed himself in his various hobbies since his dishonorable discharge, in the aftermath of the retrieval of Shepard's body. It galled him to have to cover for a group like Cerberus, but his short and ugly conversation with the Illusive Man had opened his eyes to one truth – Shepard had been set up to die, and revealing Cerberus involvement wouldn't solve a thing.

So he'd used his resources, 'lost' a scout ship, and taken the fall along with Moreau and Zorah, and endured the loss of his career. His father had been proud of his choices, and Jason had realized how tired he'd been. While he sometimes missed the chance to lead the charge against the geth, he also knew that his days of dropping hot into a battlefield had probably ended at Noveria, and mere tactical and strategic puttering was not the thrill he sought.

His retirement had started with him withdrawing from the Family at first, unsure of how his discharge would affect House von Grath. He spent five months managing the shipping interests on the outer colony world of Seris IX, then another three on Bekenstein, immersing himself into local politics. Chakwas had accompanied him to both worlds, stating she needed down time herself.

When it became clear that his discharge was not going to negatively affect his House, he decided to come back to Arcturus. He'd married Karin, and thrown himself into the business of his noble house – shipping and heavy industry – and his hobbies – fencing, raising prize roses, Prothean archaeology, and winemaking. It was the sort of life he'd expected living in his seventies, rather than in the late prime of his life, but it was satisfying in its own way.

He finished his adjustments on the translation frame when he heard the door to his workroom open, glancing up even as the scent of bacon wafted into the room. Standing in the door frame was his wife, who folded her arms and gave him a gentle smirk. "Mucking about with the translations this early, dear?"

Jason sat back in the chair behind his sturdy armaplast work desk and grinned back at Karin Chakwas von Grath, his wife of roughly a year and half. She wore a white lab coat over an elegant black and silver bodysuit, and he tilted his head. "Well, to be sure, you are already dressed for work, so it seems hardly fair to chide me for my hobby."

Karin glanced around the study – the bookshelves with dozens of expensive primers on Prothean history, the shelves of staggeringly expensive minor Prothean artifacts, and of course, the copy of the Key, the rough translation of the Prothean language put together by Shepard and T'Soni before their brutal deaths. Her smile faded a bit at the last, but she shook her head.

"My dear man, lives depend on my hobby, unlike yours. Breakfast is ready and your father is nigh unto cavorting with the servant girls... again."

Von Grath cackled as he rose from his chair, pausing to save his work with a single key press. "Right, mustn't allow the old man to do what he has probably been doing since before either of us was born. The only family with more bastards than von Grath is the Chu."

He slid his arm around her waist and kissed her, and she rolled her eyes in amusement. "Maybe so, but it makes obtaining breakfast a hassle. Come along."

He walked alongside her, thinking quietly of his next steps with the translation he was working on as they passed into the main hall of the von Grath mansion. A part of him was still a bit stung and melancholy over the loss of his real career, that of a soldier and general, but only a tiny part.

The reaction of the people of the Alliance to his discharge with dishonor had drawn most of the pain from that wound. There had been actual _riots_, and not merely of the poor masses either. People across the entire Alliance were outraged the Navy would cashier him. Neo Berlin, Mindoir, Dirth, and a half-dozen other border worlds had been infuriated that the person who made it possible to bury Shepard's body had been turned out by the military.

Not to mention the aliens. The asari were not exactly displeased by the death of Liara T'Soni, but the turians felt the fact that P. had been attempting to sell Shepard's body was the height of dishonor and that if anything, the rescue should be celebrated. And the quarians had been infuriated at the dismissal of Tali'Zorah... although from what he had heard, that ended poorly.

_Then again_, he mused sourly, _certain elements in this pack of idiots we purport to call our government probably thought that was a capital idea, and of course disgracing the family that called them out so many times in the past was the real goal._

He idly stroked his chin as he followed Karin around the corner, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth. If the idea of dishonorably discharging him had been to break House von Grath, it had backfired badly. Despite the discharge, very few of the nobility saw his actions as dishonorable – and fewer still cared much for the _military's_ opinion anyway.

Not to mention the reverence for Shepard aided him. While certainly Shepard had not been the sort of nobility that had evolved since the Days of Iron, there was something about the steel in her that had, since her death, subtly but firmly changed people's attitudes toward her.

Once seen as distasteful, the series of stories of Shepard's life and death by Emily Wong – replete with horrific footage, teary survivors, and grim snippets from a few Commissars – had elevated Shepard to a near saintly status. What stuck in most people's craw was how she died, given that she could have easily gotten away from her own demise in exchange for a few pods of crewmen.

That she hadn't – that she'd died with defiance on her lips and iron in her soul, taunting her enemies and protecting her crew...

He shook his head clear to prevent the damnable dust from making his eyes water. Damned servants never cleaned properly.

But by all the gods, even the turians had called her courage mighty. She might have been a brutal, uncultured killer with all the social graces one assigned to a small bag of rocks and the subtlety of a krogan demo team, but no one could fault her courage, her fierce desire for justice, or her determination to do the right thing, even if it cost her everything.

He arrived at the dining room, to find his ancient father deeply ensconced with a discussion with one of the house servants about something, and no sign of the aforementioned serving girls. He chuckled, knowing that his father had probably been hamming it up just to get under Karin's skin. As they entered the large room, his father glanced up, and made a subtle gesture of dismissal to the servant even as he spoke.

He waved a thin hand at the foot of the table, which was still piled high with food, and greeted them curtly. "I'll eat in a bit, dig in. Jason, I've sent Eric and Markus to Pentha IV, to run the mines there. We'll need to talk about that later, but it's going to be a rather busy day."

Jason von Grath nodded, pulling out a chair for Karin, then seating himself next to her as servants placed a loaded plate in front of him and his wife. Knowing his wife wouldn't eat and talk – she had to be at the hospital in less than a half hour – he dug into his own food, thoughtfully, while eventually drawing his father into conversation.

As usual, those were mostly about the little things. Arthur von Grath had gotten a bit shorter and frailer over the past two years, and much of the family's business was now in Jason's hands. The family's finances, once shaky, were glutted with cash now – not only because of certain shady deals struck by his father, but due to Karin's invention of a medical procedure to cure a particularly stubborn form of virus-induced immune deficiency disorder - one that had seemingly come out of nowhere - that was sadly common on some of the outer colonies. The formulation for that had netted them nearly fifty million credits, and licensing and all of that worked out to even more.

For all of their success, though, Arthur was slowly dying. He could no longer walk all about the corridors as he once had, and at over a hundred years old, his energy and vitality were slowly dropping each day. He'd lived a full life, as he had told Jason – seen his great-great-grandchildren grow up, the turians beaten like rugs, the Alliance grown and now part of the Council, and his eldest boy married off.

He could die happy, secure that he'd done his duty, and that his family was taken care of. So they talked of baseball games and cars, of the fishing Jason had done the last time he was back on Earth – they'd finally detoxified the Black Sea enough to reintroduce fish to it, and rumor was they were moving to detox the Great Lakes of America next, or maybe the Baltic if they could make a seawall from what was left of the flooded wreckage of Malmo to Gdansk.

He watched Karin get up from the table and kissed her goodbye, smirking as her lips tasted slightly of the strawberry jam she'd had on her toast. He'd been something of a rakehell until he'd met the doctor, but two years with her had finally convinced him he'd found his match. The romance had been more intellectual and less physical than most of his trysts, but then again neither of them was exactly young anymore... and it had gotten physical enough at the proper time.

He smugly leaned back in his seat, nibbling on a bit of biscuit, and watched her walk out of the door toward the powerful air-car she drove to work in. Arthur watched his son for a long moment before chuckling. "You did well, there, boy. She's quite a woman."

Jason nodded absently. "Yes, she is." He sighed, eating a bite of toast. "About the mines, I was thinking that—"

He broke off as a loud chime sounded, the signal from the house Knights that something was amiss. He frowned at the alert – the knights wouldn't interrupt breakfast for anything not very important – and tapped his omni. "Yes?"

The voice was that of Sir Reginald, senior of the knights that served von Grath. "_Apologies, milord – but there is a delegation here to see you from the Alliance... and Commandant Hazred."_ He paused. "_They are here to see you, sir, not His Grace."_

Arthur looked alarmed as Jason sat bolt upright. Michael Hazred was the real power in the Commissariat, and what he'd be doing at the front gates was hardly anything good. The fact that they wanted him and not the Duke was even more confounding.

"Please have them shown into the manor, Reginald – I'll be along immediately."

He stood, scowling, and glanced at his father, who nodded. "Go, but keep me informed."

Five minutes later, he stood in the greeting foyer of the manor, watching as the group entered. Michael Hazred was first, his pale gray eyes at odds with his otherwise mixed African and Arabic features, his crimson greatcoat surmounted by a black sash. Behind him were two men in the cutaway coats and ties of the AIS, and a naval commander with the silver tabs of the Judge Advocate General's office on his shoulder.

Jason bowed precisely toward Hazred. "Be welcome in House von Grath, Commandant. How may we be of service?"

Hazred's smile was wintry. "Thank you, milord. Do you have somewhere private we may speak? I'm afraid we're in a bit of a hurry."

Tugging at his handlebar mustache, he nodded, leading them down a side corridor to a formal meeting room, often used to handle business deals with commoners. He snapped his fingers at a servant. "Water and tea, if you would be so kind, and then inform His Grace I will be occupied for some time."

The meeting room was, like most of the house, richly appointed without the lavish gold-plated tackiness so common in some noble venues. Jason sat down at the head of the polished walnut meeting table and watched the others settle in, and smiled as a few seconds after the last one sat a servant came in with two decanters and five glasses.

He allowed the servant to serve tea or water, taking a glass of tea for himself, then dismissed the man and triggered the room's security fields. "We are private now, Commandant. What is all of this about?"

Hazred met his gaze evenly. "You are being recalled to active service, General. As of this morning, the Commissariat, in conjunction with a ruling from the Judge Advocates office, has vacated your dishonorable discharge and dismissed all charges against you. Your rank has been restored along with two years back pay and time in rate bonus, and the High Admiral has been informed that you are to be accorded every respect."

Jason sat back, truly astonished, and to cover his confusion sipped his tea as his brain worked. A dishonorable discharge was not simply 'undone' in this fashion. There was no appeal from the Court of Military Justice, after all, aside from direct petition to the High Lords, and such was guaranteed to fail as the Lords of Sol preferred not to act openly without very good reasons.

After a long moment, he spoke, his voice softer than usual. "Commandant, I am of course overjoyed to be allowed to serve once more... but it has been two years of retirement for me. I am ensconced in duties to my House and to my own business affairs, and I have not bothered to keep abreast of military developments."

Hazred nodded. "This we know. The reason for your reactivation is due to classification and security concerns... and to make you subject to command requirements. There is a situation that must be dealt with and your input is required. Cooperative assistance in this matter would allow us handle the situation much better."

The Commandant lifted an eyebrow as von Grath started to speak, and gently shook his head. "This was authorized, milord, by the Lords of Sol." He withdrew a red-tinted card, heavily embossed with a complex seal, and Jason felt the color and blood drain from his face.

It was a Sigil, a form of the Red Note used to designate the bearer acted with the complete authority of the Lords of Sol after a unanimous vote. The last Sigil he'd even heard about was in the First Contact War. A Sigil literally put the power and authority of the entire Alliance into the bearer's hands. To defy one was punishable by execution on the spot.

Hazred's voice was wry. "To wit, then. We will require you to travel to the Citadel and take part in a review task force being conducted as part of an investigation. What you will be working on is classified at the highest level of security and cannot be vouchsafed to _anyone_, for any reason. Your wife is also being picked up as she is to be involved in this as well. Military transport aboard one of the new scout frigates is standing by at the docks."

Jason narrowed his eyes. "And what exactly is the purpose of this grandiloquent trip, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Hazred glanced at the AIS men, one of which nodded back grimly and spoke. "General, you were in command of Sara Shepard for many years, correct?"

Baffled by the question, he nodded. "Yes... after I had her transferred from the Penal Legions to the Second RRU."

The AIS agent nodded. "And you are familiar with her tactics, her combat operations, how she thinks tactically?"

Jason's eyes narrowed. "To a degree. I understand that she underwent training with Admiral Ahern after her elevation to Spectre and Major of Marines... but I fail to see the point in that information, as she is dead." His voice grew bitter on the last word.

The two AIS agents glanced at Hazred, who nodded, and then the first one spoke again. "General, if someone was attempting to pass off a... clone or an impostor of Shepard, do you think you could identify such a thing?"

He restrained himself from snorting. "I should think so, agent. While I will not say I was her closest of confidantes, I observed her closely both in the field and between battles, and was not unfamiliar with her in later years. As you will recall, she was married here."

Hazred nodded. "We are aware, milord. We have a situation that is of perilous concern to the Alliance as a whole." He exhaled. "Based on... a great amount of analysis of various information and reports, it is believed that the person known as the Butcher is either some form of clone of Shepard... or possibly Shepard herself."

Jason von Grath's training failed him utterly as he felt his jaw drop a moment before anger flooded him. "I would not normally question the sanity of a Commissar, but what you suggest is flatly impossible. She was buried on Earth."

Hazred shook his head. "That was, we have determined, a flash-clone. No autopsy was performed on the body we received from you, based on the... gruesome amount of damage it had taken. But the body was exhumed and tested and is definitely not her. That means either whatever Commanders Moreau and Zorah recovered was not her from the beginning..."

He paused, narrowing his eyes. "...or that she never actually _died _to begin with."

Jason shook his head. "She died, sir. Her wife—"

The AIS agent spoke again. "That's the problem. From testimony, we know that Doctor Sedanya of the _Kazan _rendered Liara unconscious and did something to prevent the bond-linkage they had from killing her with Shepard's death. But all the asari we spoke to said that should be impossible, that every single time a bond of that strength had been broken, it resulted in the death of both parties."

The second AIS agent spoke, his rough voice at odds with his dapper appearance. "Furthermore, we cannot seem to locate the doctor, as she has... vanished. Along with a number of other personnel close to Shepard."

Hazred tapped his fingers on the table. "The most recent intelligence we have on the Butcher is that she is working with – or for – Cerberus, General. If Sara Shepard fell into their clutches in some fashion, the information she has about our operations could do incalculable damage."

Jason von Grath stood, moving to stare out the smoked glass windows of the meeting room out at the small meadow behind the House proper. After a long moment, he flexed his cybernetic hand. "Your premise seems... highly improbable. But I see the need for concern. How do I – and Karin – fit into this mess?"

Hazred smiled. "You were both close to her. We're assembling a team to go over the evidence and determine the truth of the matter. And if it turns out it is her, then we need tactical and strategic advice on how to capture her."

Jason gave a harsh laugh at that. "_Capture_, Commandant?" He turned to face him. "If, by some dark miracle, that Butcher person _is _Shepard, then you have no idea how much damage she could do. She was the _very best N7 _the program ever produced, and her acts after that point speak well of her prowess. She was the best we had."

He exhaled. "But this concept strains credulity. I never had the -no doubt dubious- 'pleasure' of meeting Doctor Okeer, but I've heard enough stories to know that the Shepard I knew and fought with would have ended up a splatter fighting a krogan like that, instead of killing him in single combat."

Hazred arched his eyebrow. "I find it curious you raise her up in one sentence and then say she was incapable of killing Okeer in the next."

Jason's augmetic hand clenched. "What I am saying, sir, is that Shepard was one of our best, but in no way, shape or form was she the unholy walking nightmare the Butcher is described as! I have no possible idea what in the everliving **fuck **could have happened to the poor woman in between her 'death' and now that allows her to do such things."

His voice tightened. "And if she's working with Cerberus... " He trailed off, shaking his head. "She must be beyond merely angry at this point. For her not to reveal herself, to hide behind a false persona, working with or for a group she herself destroyed… that is very much unlike her. And if that _is _Shepard, the only reason I can think of for her doing such a thing is that she sees the Alliance as untrustworthy. If that is the case, she's going to kill _anyone _you send after her with hostile intent."

His voice softened. "Trust me, you do not want to see what happens when that girl loses her temper. Ask the dead fools and walk through the mass graves on Horizon, Dirth, and Torfan how that goes."

Hazred shrugged. "Be that as it may, milord... my orders – and now your orders – are very clear. We are to determine if it is her, and her possible threat to the Alliance. I take your words as they were meant… but I do not need to explain to you the problems caused by her working with Cerberus, I trust?"

Von Grath smiled thinly. "No, I can grasp that much. I don't like it, but I know my duty. I'll need a few hours to put my affairs in order, I trust that will not be an issue?"

The Commandant stood, gesturing to the others. "The scout frigate _Banquan _is at dock 5S Alpha, and will cast off tonight at 1900 hours. For the moment, you and your wife are formally attached to the Military Security Group KERES, under the nominal command of Admiral Ahern. If there should be any media attention paid to this event – unlikely at best – KERES is devoted to strategic planning purposes."

He pulled out a keycard and ID card embossed with the Alliance Command symbol. "The marines at the dock have already been alerted that you will be arriving. Please be at the dock no later than 1700 hours, and pack lightly. With any luck, milord, this event will only take up a few days of your time, and you can return here and get on with your life as you wish."

Jason nodded curtly. "Very well. I must, of course, inform my father the Duke..."

Hazred smiled. "His Grace will be receiving a communication directly from the Lords of Sol shortly explaining what he needs to know. I thank you for your courtesy in receiving me. If you have any questions, my TTL is 540-Beta-Six. Go with the grace of our Father, milord."

Jason watched them file out of the meeting room, then after taking a deep breath, exploded into profanity.

**O-TWCD-O**

"Commodore David Anderson, please rise."

The large room Anderson was in was only sparsely populated despite its size, and decorated in the usual harsh white and blue Alliance décor. David Anderson suppressed a wry smile at the layout, which looked almost like how a court-martial was arrayed, as the Sergeant-at-Arms gave the command to stand.

Before him were five naval officers, by his side was a legal aid and a Commissar, and at the side of the room were a panel of various doctors, intelligence officers, and psychologists. Aside from the heavy security in the room – four Commissariat Lancers and an additional Commissar at the exits of the room – the only other people in the chamber were Kahlee Sanders, Yonis Chu, and Tradius Ahern.

The five naval officers sat behind an elevated desk, and Anderson took in each one as he stood, still feeling stiff from his long confinement. He'd been shaved and barbered and given a fresh uniform, which hung almost loosely from his form.

The two officers at the ends were mere captains, meaningless functionaries. They were there solely for legal reasons, to ensure the hearing followed procedure, and unless something legally dubious came up, were unlikely to speak at all.

The center three figures, however, were admirals, and the eventual deciders of his fate. Alliance Chief Medical Officer Alisa Han was a Chinese woman of advancing years, and an Admiral of the Green, the highest ranking medical officer in the Systems Alliance. Her cold, lined features were set in a neutral expression, although her eyes were fixed on the doctors to one side rather than Anderson. From what Anderson remembered she was something of a political appointment, and strongly aligned with the old Coleman Administration.

She was a study in contrast with the darker-skinned Admiral Thomas Wychair, command officer of the Alliance Certifications Board. Although his own Euro-Chinese heritage was also apparent in the shape of his eyes and dark black hair, his features were strongly built and almost thuggish, and his gaze was coolly sanguine even as he tapped the fingers of his cybernetic hand on the desk. Wychair had a reputation for straight-shooting and direct, even harsh truths.

Between them was the grizzled and corroded features of Admiral of the Red Vance 'Jack' Dill, ostensibly the most senior admiral in the entire Alliance. He was formerly the Chairman of the Armed Forces Military Board, providing advisement on purely political matters to the High Admiral and the Fleet Master. In practice, he was more occupied with managing BuShips than dealing with actual fleets any longer. Given his noted antipathy toward the N7 program as a waste of money, he was a curious and somewhat ominous choice to lead the board.

Unofficially, he was a bastard child of the Manswells, and his ancient features were close enough to those of Maxwell Manswell to start rumors that the two were half-brothers. Certainly, Dill had always landed on his feet, having been Fleet Master and High Admiral both before moving to the semi-retirement of the Armed Forces Military Board.

Admiral Dill glanced at a padd on his desk, then back up at Anderson, his flinty and narrowed gray eyes still sharp despite his age. "This hearing is now in session. Commissars, please engage the static lock devices." A moment later the pins-and-needles feeling of anti-spying fields washed over Anderson.

After a long moment paging through his notes on the padd, Dill spoke, his voice as heavy and gritty as his battered looks.

"Commodore, you have served Sol and the Alliance with dignity and honor for well over thirty years. You were the very first to graduate from the N7 Academy, one of the first in the fight against the turians, our first pick to be a Spectre. While it's fair to say your career hasn't been an unbroken chain of successes, you've had a few moments of glory."

The Admiral took a breath. "Which is why this... event that you've undergone has been so disturbing, and why there is a good deal of resistance to your return to active duty. Your service record is outstanding, but is also littered with incidents that demonstrate a certain failure to heed consequences. Being taken hostage in New York. The shootout on Arcturus. The…" Dill paused, eyeing Ahern with clear dislike. "...mess in the aftermath of the protection of the Turian Primarch and his son. All of these things lead me to question your judgment."

He made an opening gesture with his hand. "In line with that, you've sponsored five officers over the years, and all but one has turned out to be a disgrace to the Alliance uniform. Your only success, the late Major-Commander Shepard, was hardly a credit to the Alliance for much of her career... and I question whether you had much to do with salvaging that mess. Altogether, you're a little too reckless for my taste, and this incident seems to be more of the same, and with little cause."

The expression of the Commissar sitting beside Anderson hardened, but Dill went on.

"Nonetheless, based on the large amount of testimony and evidence presented by certain parties, it's clear Shepard was very much like a daughter to you. Her unexpected death was traumatic, and having you in charge of the recovery party on Alchera was not one of Admiral Branson's brightest ideas, but that failure cannot be laid at your feet. I'm not sure how I'd react if one of my daughters was blown out of the sky and then we didn't even have the balls to get the body."

Admiral Han made a moue of distaste at his phrasing, while Wychair was clearly smothering a grin.

The Admiral glanced back at the padd. "I don't want to suggest that what happened on Alchera was excusable – the actions you took were those of a madman, Commodore. You destroyed a valuable omni-tool that may have had information of vital importance to the Alliance, you nearly killed a Commissar, and you disobeyed a direct order. I will say that this board can empathize to some degree… but there are limits for such sympathy, and this crosses them."

Dill laid down the padd. "Ultimately, it has been argued by several people – including your own medical officer – that you were mentally imbalanced at the time. However, others have argued that you had other motives, perhaps malevolent ones."

Admiral Dill glanced at Admiral Han, who gave a glacially calm nod. Her voice was flat, lacking any melody save that of cold iron, and her expression was pitiless. "We have reviewed both the Commissariat and medical findings. The testimony presented by the medical and psychological officials overseeing your treatment inform us you suffered a psychotic break. We are told that you have no memory of events from a period roughly four days after Shepard's death. Is that statement correct?"

Anderson nodded briefly. "It is, Admiral. I was informed they tried some various techniques to counteract that, but... I can't remember anything from that point until I woke up in the mental hospital at... wherever I was held."

Han's eyes narrowed further. "I find that extremely convenient, Commodore. _Troublingly_ so. I'm of course familiar with those techniques, and usually they do not engender memory loss. Certainly not of such a convenient duration."

Anderson arched an eyebrow. "Ma'am, it seems to me that if I have no memory of the event that it becomes more difficult for me to explain my motives at the time, which is unlikely to do me any good in convincing this body to restore me to command status. If I remembered anything, I'd say so."

Susan D'Alte frowned. "Admiral, the medical report already stated that the memory loss had been independently verified. Might I ask the point of the statement?"

Han smiled. "Merely pointing out issues that trouble us in our decision-making, Commissar." She glanced at her own padd. "To wit, the AIS had informed us some time ago that Shepard's omni-tool was likely to contain some information in relation what was given to her by Cerberus. It was the considered opinion of several operatives that Shepard was possibly investigating something else, which may have been one reason she was killed."

Setting her padd down, her smile became even cooler. "However, with your memory gone and the omni-tool destroyed, we have no way of verifying that. This is of concern to us, as it calls into question both your fitness and judgment as an officer and leads us to wonder if this was caused by a psychotic break at all."

She glanced at Wychair, who spoke in a warm, calming tenor at odds with his clipped delivery. "Normally, if this was a simple case of combat fatigue or the like, this hearing would be a formality before a restoration to command status. However, given the fact that you violated the military justice code and due to our... uncertainties, we find ourselves in the unusual situation of deciding your ultimate fate, Commodore... and perhaps your life."

He squared his shoulders. "There has been a proposal to submit you to experimental procedures to retrieve these memories. The charge of attacking a Commissar and disobeying orders alongside your other acts is enough for us to have you stripped of your citizenship and submitted to Alliance Medical for such a procedure. One you are unlikely to survive."

He glanced a moment at the blond Commissar standing next to Anderson. "Certain parties oppose that decision, but unfortunately for you, there is enough uncertainty about your actions that, if we so choose, we can authorize complete neural modification beyond what you have been exposed to in order to retrieve the missing information... and your motives for destroying it."

The Admiral shifted his shoulders. "There are three goals of this hearing. First, to determine if the medical possibility exists of restoring such memories – or at least obtaining the information. Second, if the prior is an impossibility, to determine exactly what should be done with you. Finally, assuming this panel does not see fit to discharge your service, your future." He paused. "If there is a possibility of restoring such memories, then we will have to make that determination based on the likelihood of it occurring, not merely its utility."

Dill's voice was cool. "On the plus side, if we can conclude these events were from a psychotic break you won't have to have a courts-martial for your violations, and we can dismiss the matter forthwith if memory retrieval seems unlikely. Do you understand, Commodore?"

Anderson nodded. "I do, Admiral."

Dill glanced at the Commissar next to Anderson. "You may be seated, Commodore. Commissar D'Alte, you said you had a statement? I would like to hear it before we hear the presentation of evidence."

Susan nodded, holding up a padd. "A copy was transmitted to your docket for review. In short, however, the Commissariat has reviewed all the available information, reports, and known facts of the case. We believe that the actions of the Commodore – particularly in attacking a Commissar – are the definite results of a mental breakdown. Commodore Anderson's career may have 'incidents' as you put it, but none of these were direct violations of orders."

Susan exhaled. "Additionally, the Commissariat suggests mental experimentation is unwarranted and unjust. The chance that memory restoration techniques could recover useful data is very low, and the fact remains that Commodore Anderson's life should not be thrown away for a single psychological breakdown. The acts he has committed do not warrant a death sentence if he was mentally compromised."

Admiral Han leaned back. "I find that a very... curious stance for the Commissariat to take, given your views on guilt and punishment."

Susan shook her head. "This is exactly in line with our views, however. The Commissariat punishes crimes, acts, and thoughts made _deliberately _and those made out of either _negligence _or _ignorance_. We do not, however, punish those who have no control over their actions. We are not justicars, madam. We fully believe the acts performed by Commodore Anderson are criminal. They are certainly worth punishment. But no one has demonstrated that they were made with malicious intent rather than psychological failure."

Her voice firmed. "Most importantly, the scale and scope of the acts are not, however, worthy of _execution_, nor can one make even the slightest plausible case that knowing what was on that omni-tool is of any value, since we do not have any firm idea what was on it to _begin_ with."

Admiral Dill frowned. "That argument reeks of legalistic spuriance, Commissar. And without knowing the contents of the data in question, it strikes me as sophistry of the highest order. One might as well claim that if we catch a spy before he delivers his information to his masters that he is innocent."

The legal aid next to Susan spoke, her voice quiet and accented with the tonals of Arcturus. "Correction, Admiral. The Alliance Code of Military Justice clearly states in subsection seventeen that any prosecution of events that leads to capital punishment can only be defined on known, assessed values. The AIS suggestion that the omni-tool may have had valuable information is not even legally usable, as they did not at any time possess it or have any way to do more than conjecture without facts as to its contents."

Susan arched one golden eyebrow. "With all due respect, Admiral, and taking in mind what Lieutenant Morez just said, I don't feel that assumptions of importance can justify the choice to possibly kill the Commodore. Whatever happened to cause him to break may have had _nothing_ at all to do with any information on the omni-tool. For all we know it captured Shepard's last, most likely horrific moments alive in graphic detail and that broke him."

She tilted her head. "In any event, I have been instructed to state that the High Commandant and the entirety of the Judgment Cadres have reviewed the case and recommend reinstatement with heavy monitoring and ongoing psychological counseling, not what can frankly only be called experimental and untested techniques that may reduce a useful warrior of humanity to a vegetable."

Admiral Dill turned to the doctors along one side of the room. "I see. You may be seated, Commissar D'Alte. Thank you for your statement." He glanced at the padd. "Before we hear the testimony of the panel, I understand there are others who wish to make a statement?"

Tradius Ahern stood. "I do, sir."

Dill regarded Ahern with distaste, but nodded. "Proceed."

Ahern took a deep breath before standing and placing his hands behind his back. "I've known David Anderson since we were both stuck in a swamp prior to N-series training. In the thirty-plus years of that relationship, I have never seen him act in a fashion harmful to the Alliance. I do know he was very much attached to Sara Shepard, and that he was already under a great deal of stress at the time of her death."

Ahern's eyes drilled into Dill's. "I'm sure someone who isn't planning on having their brain become a science fair project feels doing so to Anderson might reveal something. The only thing it will reveal, in my opinion, is callous disregard for the sacrifices and dedication David has shown. And if it is performed and nothing useful comes of it, I intend to have the people who recommended and executed such a travesty brought up on murder charges."

He finished with a glare at the doctors to one side of the board and then sat down. Wychair looked amused and Han scowled, while Dill merely nodded. "I have added your statement to the record, Admiral. Now, for the presentation. First, Doctor Clengory?"

One of the doctors stood up, a slender man with drawn, sallow features, cold black eyes, and a shaven head. He wore the uniform of an Alliance Medical colonel, and his voice was a cold, flat baritone. "I am Doctor Alex Clengory, in charge of Alliance Medical Adjustments. It's my belief that the subject's memory loss is trauma related – almost certainly due to a combination of alcohol abuse, the shock of the death of Shepard, and clinical separation."

The doctor's features didn't flicker in expression as he continued. "Regardless of the statements made by non-medical personnel, the truth is that chemical alterations of the mind may lock down memories but does not destroy them. With proper condition and use of psycholinguistic reprogramming, along with... careful surgical adjustment... we estimate an eighty-five to ninety percent chance of recovery of the memories in question."

Dill nodded. "I see. And the likelihood Anderson would survive this?"

Clengory arched an eyebrow. "That isn't in my purview, Admiral. I'm sure his psychological analyst could provide more detailed information. I will admit there is a very high chance he would be mentally damaged by such an event. However..."

He paused to smirk insultingly at the legal aid. "...given that neurolinguistic programming is not a criminal punishment nor does it usually result in death, it can hardly be classified or restricted as capital punishment is. I believe the relevant section of the law is section forty-five – needs of the Alliance and medical procedures under duress."

Admiral Wychair interjected. "To cut to the chase – how likely is it we could retrieve the memories without damaging Anderson, Doctor? And what outcomes would happen if we authorized further work?"

Clengory shrugged. "I already stated success factors. I would say that the chances are not good to extract the memories and leave his mind intact. The most likely outcome would be additional memory loss, possible loss of motor skills, and worst case, significant brain damage leading to loss of cognitive function."

Dill nodded. "I see. Thank you. Doctor Barnes, can you speak to the Commodore's mental health, and this procedure?"

Barnes stood, and Anderson concealed a frown. Barnes had been his chief psychologist during his incarceration, and the man's continued attempts at getting him to remember anything of use had been frustrating. Anderson's memories were curiously foggy about a lot of things since he'd been placed in Barnes care, and something about him left Anderson feeling uneasy.

Barnes glanced down at a padd he held and spoke, his normally nasal voice coming flat and clinical in the wide area of the room. His receding hairline and weak features didn't conceal the sharp and intense gaze of his eyes, however.

"The patient was cooperative during his observational period, and once we completed basic cortical and chemical adjustment, ceased any display of aberrant psychological effects. Per instructions from the AIS and countersigned by the High Admiral, we then performed the stated stage six neurochemical adjustment in hopes of reviving the patient's memory."

He sighed. "The result was to induce a state of psychosis and homicidal rage in the patient, and we had to forcibly subdue him. As Admiral Han is no doubt aware, NCA is a relatively new and untested field, and we have already made the statement that it's very likely the memories that are being sought were suppressed or possibly even destroyed by said adjustments."

Barnes glanced at Clengory. "While some parties may imply the memories could still be retrieved, I strongly believe that any 'recovery' would result in only a mangled and disorganized mess of no real value, and would at the very least destabilize the patient. Certainly, the fact that once the patient's rage petered out he experienced more lost memory and has demonstrated no further aberrant psychological effects would seem to support this."

Admiral Dill folded his arms. "Leaving aside the memory issues, assuming we decide to let him go, is the Commodore fit for duty? Is this kind of... mayhem going to recur if he's exposed to whatever set him off in the first place? For that matter, do we have any idea what _did_ set him off? I can't put him in command of ships and men if he's a lunatic."

Barnes shrugged. "From what we can tell, at least for the moment, the Commodore is perfectly stable and sane, and is fit for service – and command. However, we don't know what 'set him off' as you put it – or if that had anything to do with the omni-tool at all. It may have been seeing the wreckage, or where the Major-Commander had been cut out from her death site and hauled away. Or, as Commissar D'Alte has suggested, it may have been something on the omni-tool that was of no real importance to the Alliance, but was traumatic for him personally."

Han shook her head. "And the chances of being able to figure that out?"

Barnes sighed. "Determining the exact factor or factors that caused this would be almost impossible to determine at this late juncture, and more than a little difficult to even investigate. Even the sort of adjustments Doctor Clengory advocates would only give us stream of consciousness at best, not nuanced explanation."

The doctor adjusted his glasses before finishing. "I would say that based on over six months of observations since the NCA, Anderson shows no signs of any psychosis or psychological trauma aside from normal grief responses due to the loss of a loved one."

Dill sighed. "I see. And from a medical standpoint, Doctor Arravay?"

The slender woman next to Barnes stood even as he sat down, her Indian features set off by her cybernetic eye. "Physically he is in excellent shape for a man of his age. We have conducted a full examination and found no evidence of neurochemical drugs or other potential alterations to his mental state, from a period of immediately after the incident to today, aside from the chemical balances and the NCA, of course." She paused. "There is minor liver damage from heavy drinking, however, which is something that should be medically addressed."

Dill glanced at Han, who spoke next. "AIS Agent Simons?"

A nondescript black man stood, his head shaved bald and his face bare save for a small pointed beard on his chin. He wore the split-coat of the AIS, his shoulder boards marking him as a major. "We've examined everything we could, both from the crash and at various other locales, such as Shepard's estate. While we believe the Major-Commander was investigating a number of troubling issues, it is our continued belief that whatever was on that omni-tool may have had major importance to the Systems Alliance and that she was lured out and destroyed by forces unknown due to said information."

Simons paused, then smiled faintly. "That being said, we have no proof, and since the request for full psycholinguistic reprogramming was denied at the time it was made, we may never know the answers. If we had performed the technique when we requested it, it could have been performed with minimal risk to the Commodore's sanity... or life. I'm much less willing to accept it could be done _safely_ at this late juncture. However, we are of the opinion – and agree with Doctor Clengory – that it could still be performed with a high chance of retrieving this critical data."

Admiral Wychair frowned. "I'm not sure I follow. If you suspect the reason Shepard was killed was due to the information on the omni-tool – and we know that the damned pirates or whatever P.'s goons are got to her body first – why didn't they just take the omni-tool instead of her body?"

The AIS agent's expression flickered. "I'm afraid I can't go into details of that due to classification restrictions."

Wychair raised both eyebrows, the faintest hint of amusement on his features. "Is that so? Not exactly what I expected, but very well." He traded glances with Dill, who merely sighed.

"Commissar-Colonel Jaseth?"

The last figure at the table stood slowly, his uniform more elaborate than Susan's. "We completed our investigation some time ago, Admiral. While Commissar D'Alte has delivered the formal decision of the Commandant Corps, our investigation was concluded prior to that point." He met the eyes of the Admiral squarely. "Based on our findings, I would not recommend attempting further neural examinations, as it is likely to lead to a dead-end."

The Commissar took a breath, glancing at Susan before continuing. "However, based on several factors – including his psychotic break – we cannot agree to full reinstatement. A non-command position, with the heavy monitoring suggested by Commissar D'Alte, is the most I could recommend at this time. He is unfit to command based on several regulations, including B720C."

Dill scowled blackly. Regulation B720C was found in the Alliance Unified Code of Justice, and was a subsection to the acts covering fraternization between command staff and junior officers who were in the same family unit. "You are implying that the death of Major-Commander Shepard has left him unfit for command?"

The Commissar-Colonel hesitated for almost a full second before replying slowly. "We feel Commodore Anderson would disobey a direct order and incapacitate or kill any personnel trying to stop him if he came into possession of information on who was responsible for Shepard's death, sir. Regardless of the veracity of said information. In light of that, restoration to command status might put us in a position where a political officer would have to disable the Commodore."

Dill nodded. "Thank you." He glanced down at the padd, then back up at Anderson, before speaking.

"Commodore David Anderson, please stand."

Anderson did so, wincing a bit at the stiffness in his back, and squared his shoulders.

Dill tapped something into his padd, then waited several seconds. The other two Admirals exchanged glances and then nodded, and Dill gave a thin, sad smile. "It is the decision of this panel to adopt the following."

"First, the medical possibility of restoring your memory exists. It is an unproven, dangerous method that is either likely to be fatal or to reduce you to a vegetative state. Testimony from the specialists assigned to you seems to indicate that doing so may or may not result in anything, and will almost certainly not be, shall we say, legally sound on all counts."

He glanced up. "Given that the information such an experimental treatment may retrieve is highly speculative and possibly nonexistent, authorizing such an operation would be the equivalent of a death sentence."

Dill paused. "Given the state of war declared by President Windsor against the Geth, Commodore, your assault of a Commissar and disobeying direct orders is a capital charge. We are well within our rights to have you remanded to Doctor Clengory's Institute and process you forthwith."

Anderson kept his gaze straight on Dill's, although he heard Kahlee gasp softly.

The Admiral's beaten features tightened. "However, given the Commissariat recommendation, the lack of any firm details on the part of the AIS, and the report of the medical and mental personnel, the offenses committed appear to be due to your loss. As such, you are to be placed on non-command duty permanently, and in a state of military probation for no less than ten years."

Dill's voice hardened. "I won't suggest, Commodore, that I totally approve of letting this transpire in this fashion. We do not simply allow officers to behave as disgracefully as you have, and men have been broken from the service for far lesser misdeeds."

He exhaled. "Additionally, I agree with the Commissar and your psychologist that you do not have the full faith of the Alliance in your abilities and that, in the fullness of time, when we discover who murdered the Major-Commander that we can trust you to follow your orders in the manner befitting a command officer."

Anderson gave a tense nod, and Dill sighed. "In spite of that, the alternative is a punishment more severe than the crime deserves, and it would be a waste of your talents to simply dishonorably discharge you. I will not suggest this is a mercy, Commodore – there is almost zero chance of you even being given a command of any kind, much less promoted. Don't waste this chance."

Dill glanced aside at Wychair, who nodded and spoke. "You will be remanded back to the custody of the Commissariat – specifically, Commissar D'Alte – and if you display even the slightest psychological instability in the future, you will be returned to the Institute and the procedure discussed earlier will be executed forthwith and without appeal. Until Command comes up with a better place to station you, you will be placed at the disposal of Councilor Udina as a military adviser. You will retain your rank, but your command TAB has been struck."

Dill's expression softened. "If you cannot or will not accept that duty, you will be medically discharged from the Service. Keep in mind that if you choose that route, you will still be remanded to the custody of the Commissars."

Anderson nodded. "Understood, Admiral. If permitted, I would be glad to continue my service and work with Councilor Udina... and I'm grateful for your decision."

Dill leaned back, and nodded. "Very well. This panel is adjourned. Secretary, codify the notes and copy Admiral Branson and the Fleet Master, if you would." He glanced at Susan. "He's all yours, ma'am."

Susan nodded, coming to her feet somewhat stiffly, then gestured. "Thank you all for your consideration." She took Anderson by the elbow and guided him out, with Ahern, Sanders, and Chu following.

In the wide hallway outside, Anderson exhaled a long, gusty breath, and then smiled at Ahern and Chu as they came alongside. "Thanks for showing up to that. And for saying your piece, Tradius."

The sallow features of Yonis Chu were not softened by the black and silver AIS uniform he wore, but his voice was calm. "You're welcome, David. You did the same for me after the mess with Preston, after all."

Ahern snorted. "Bastards got pretty close to authorizing that creepy-ass doctor to give your brains a good stir." He grimaced. "Then again, David... they're not wrong about what was on that omni."

Yonis glanced uncertainly at his old friend. "What do you mean?"

Ahern exhaled. "Shepard was onto something. Someone. She never gave me details, but based on the reports I've gotten since I took over 5th Fleet and some stupid shouting with Dragunov, my guess is she found some pretty bad shit out." He glanced at Anderson. "I'm guessing whatever it was must have been enough to drive you over the edge."

Anderson nodded slowly. "I... I remember the last conversation I had with her. She was upset and wondering about the Alliance. But..." He shook his head. "I can't remember anything else, and the more I try to focus on the memories the hazier they get. It's a little upsetting."

Kahlee slid her arm through his, smiling softly. "It's okay. I talked to Donnel already, whenever the Commissars let you go, he's got a light set of duties for you. Mostly dealing with BuShips."

Ahern's eyes narrowed. "It may be a few weeks before that happens, Kahlee." He glanced at Susan. "I'm going to need to have him on a project I'm working on, with the Commissariat."

Anderson frowned. "A project?"

Ahern's eyes were dark with regrets. "Yes. Possible high treason, and maybe even worse." He faced Susan squarely. "I assume you'll get him briefed and on his way? I have to get back to the Citadel ASAP."

She nodded, smiling and patting Anderson's other arm. "I was going to let him spend a few nights in a nice Arcturus hotel and... get used to being out again. How quick do we need to move on this, assuming your conjecture is correct, Admiral?"

Ahern looked to Yonis, who shrugged. "I'm going Earthside to present to Prince Aloxius as soon as I leave. I figure he'll be... displeased and demanding action within a day."

Ahern nodded. "I'll need a day or so to get shit together fleet-side, and to get feedback on whoever else we can find. Have him at the Citadel by Friday, please." He turned to Anderson, clapping him on the shoulder. "Try not to fuck up and go crazy anymore, David."

He turned away, and Yonis also said his farewells, leaving Kahlee and David standing next to the shorter figure of Susan, who smiled widely as she handed them a pair of keycards. "So. I have a hotel ready, and you can relax and catch up on events. It's the Omni-Ashland, in the Sphere, on level two. Suite P2A. There's a Lancer guard there to ensure your privacy, although I figure the media will show up sooner or later."

The smile faded. "I'll need to talk to you in the morning, though. I'll come by after breakfast."

Anderson nodded, frowning a bit. "I'm not sure what kind of project I'd be needed for, given I've been locked up for years and I feel like I just woke up from a long sleep."

Susan took a deep breath. "And I'll explain everything in the morning – to both of you. But it's very big, and... probably very bad." She adjusted the tilt of her cap and forced another smile, but it seemed strained. "So, let me go get an aircar. I have to pretty much stay close by you at all times since you're in my custody… but I can give you a little privacy at the hotel."

Kahlee watched her walk away, arching an eyebrow. "She's got a limp. Usually all the Black Hats I see are the picture of health." She turned to and faced David squarely. "Jesus, hon, I thought they were going to kill you."

She buried her face in his chest as he held her, his own features a mix of relief and worry. "So did I, Kae. So did I."

**O-TWCD-O**

Tela Vasir entered the lowest floor of the tower her apartment was in, feeling fatigue wash over her as she waited for the elevator to come down to the ground floor. She'd spent the past two days overseeing repairs and refit of her strike cruiser, dealing with Spectre paperwork, and dodging reporters curious about her activities – as usual.

She never had enough help to get things accomplished, it seemed. Her ship had needed severe repairs after various actions alongside Delacor, and her hesitance in doing any further work for the Broker had crimped her accounts more than a little. She'd managed to pull together funding from a mix of sources as well as call in some favors from other Spectres, but the process was exhausting.

At last most of the work was done, at least the parts she needed to oversee. Figuring she didn't have a lot of value to add to the zero-g welding crews, she'd taken the opportunity to head back to her apartment and hopefully get some sleep.

She entered the elevator, tapping the top floor button, and leaned back against the wall of the elevator cab as it ascended. She was mentally too wiped out to bother trying to put together a message for the Butcher – or Sara Shepard, if Ahern's crazy AI was actually right. She'd deal with it tomorrow, after a full night's rest, some time with the Consort, and a few good meals.

The doors slid open, revealing the dark-paneled walkway leading to her apartment suite. As her eyes flicked over the door, however, she hesitated.

The security telltale tape she'd done across the corner was broken, and the two security mechs standing to either side of the door had been deactivated. She drew her shotgun from her hip and walked forward softly, using her biotics to lighten her footsteps.

Ever so gently, she eased the door aside with the barrel of her shotgun, revealing her front foyer and the far wall studded with weapons she'd collected over the years. The center place, which should have held Aunt Aethyta's prized warp sword, was bare.

Outrage and fury erupted into her heart as she flicked forward into the kanquess, coming out in a roll with her weapon leveled. A figure in brownish robes, plain and rough, stood looking out the floor-to-ceiling curved windows on the north side of her suite, staring out at the Presidium.

Even as her finger tightened to fire, the figure half turned and a sudden, unexpected pull wrenched her weapon free, flinging it harmlessly to the side. She answered with a heavy flare of warpfire, which the figure simply blocked with the warp sword before speaking.

"Your reflexes have gone to shit, girl."

Tela froze at that voice, staring hard at the slightly taller figure. "...Take off your hood."

With her free hand, the figure did so, revealing the tired, worn features of Aethyta Vasir. "Hiya, kiddo. Sorry for breaking in, but I'm sorta on a schedule, and I needed my sword back." She sheathed the weapon, stepping forward slightly, her robes gaping open to reveal flat black combat armor.

Tela's mouth worked quietly for a second before she shook her head to clear it, and she pushed more warpfire into her hands. "I don't think so. My aunt died on Omega. Whoever the fuck you are—"

Aethyta rolled her eyes. "—just disarmed a Spectre then blocked her warpfire with a Wave-Passes-Beach invocation. How many people do you think could do that besides me, Tela?" She sighed. "It's a long story why I'm here and how. And ugly. And I really don't have time to tell it, as unfair and shitty as that is to you."

Tela folded her arms. "I need a skin sample. Or I'm going to kill you."

Aethyta shrugged, holding out her hand. "Sure, babe. Still five hundred years too young to drop me, though. Just saying."

Fingers shaking, Tela ran her omni-tool over the other asari's skin and let the onboard computer – with its links to the Citadel Registry – run. The answer popped back a moment later. "Diagnostic Error : Target [Aethyta Vasir] deceased. No flash-clone fragments detected. Please recalibrate and retest."

Tela's eyes narrowed. "...How did you get onboard the Citadel? Not through C-Sec, the scanners would have thrown the same fit my tool did."

Aethyta gave a tired laugh. "Babe, I've been on the Citadel a thousand times. I taught more than a few people how to spoof security and bypass the guards. Getting past the scans is easy if you bribe the cargo people. How else do you think those quarian dancers at Edat's place get in?" She folded her arms.

Tela swallowed, and then shakily sat down hard on the couch to the right. Her emotions were too burned out, her mind too tired to grasp this. "You were dead. They said... you were dead. Enough blood was found that you'd never have survived, and your sword was left behind..."

Aethyta's features softened, and she knelt down in front of Tela, taking her hands in her own. "I pretty much _was _dead. The fight... it was Tetrimus. He butchered everyone with me, like it was a joke. I got him in the gut and he brought down the entire bay on top of me, broke my spine."

Something ugly and tired flared in Aethyta's eyes, and she glanced away, her voice rough. "Aria captured me and held me incommunicado for... abyss take me, the past two years. I thought for sure she was going to kill me at first, but instead she used me to keep someone else in line. That person is useless to her now... and so am I."

She paused. "But she still didn't kill me. The person that's useless to her is still dangerous enough that she let me go to end things on a good note rather than risk them coming after her for revenge. That's also saying she's written them off, and these people are in a lot of fucking danger."

Vasir grabbed her aunt's wrist. "And? Look, I'm sorry whoever these people are may be in danger, but …" She shook her head. "This is too tides-deep for me. Auntie, you were thought to be dead! They held a Remembrance, liquidated whatever assets you had..." She bit her lip. "And now... what? You come for your sword, to go after Aria... and die for real this time?"

Aethyta frowned. "No. Fuck Aria. Silly tramp. She's so lost in her own bullshit she doesn't realize she's neutralized _herself_. Aria's only scary if you forget she's still got a lot to lose and deep down inside she's still a scared weak girl. The only reason she didn't get taken out by the PMCs on Omega was due to the Butcher and Archangel killing most of them."

The older asari took a deep breath. "No, I have business to handle on Ilium. Important business."

Vasir looked up. "Ilium? The place is in blockade status after that crash, not to mention the fusion reactor explosion and all the killing. You can't get through."

Aethyta snorted. "Hah! I got here, didn't I? Trust me. I can get through." She paused, then gave a sad smile. "Don't worry about me. But listen. I know you do a lot of work with the Broker... trust me when I say you want to stay clear of this shit. Things are going to go bad."

Tela felt a chill run over her. "...Stay clear of what?"

Aethyta's face lost all softness, the eyes going cold and deadly. "The Broker is... directly responsible for a lot of bad things that happened." She glanced down. "You don't need details. I just wanted to see you one last time before I headed out, kiddo. Tell you a few things, maybe. Things I should have—"

Vasir shook her head again, more strongly. "No. No. Auntie you can't go dashing off into danger half-drunk and all beat up. If Aria had you imprisoned for two years, you're in no shape for a fight. And Ilium is not the shallows of the Traverse – you go there and they'll eat you alive!"

Aethyta stood and smirked. "Fishbits." She placed her hand on Tela's shoulder. "Sometimes we have to stop running from reality and face it. Stop pretending we're something we aren't. And sometimes there are things worth dying for."

Tela stood as well. "Then tell me _why_ you're going to Ilium, at least. Don't leave me in the dark after falling out of my life for two entire years, Auntie. Please."

Aethyta's voice was hard. "I can't. You're tied in with the Broker..."

Tela shook her head. "I'm..." She exhaled shakily. "...the Broker had me produce false intelligence. Intel that ended up putting Shepard out in the middle of nowhere on the _Normandy_." She looked up, eyes full of misery. "That got her killed. Got Liara and the others killed. I... don't do work for him any longer."

Aethyta was still for long, grim seconds. Tela felt a tiny shiver crawl up her spine – even if Aethyta was drunk and tired, Tela wasn't sure if she could take Auntie in a straight fight.

Aethyta laughed, quietly. It was the most bitter, hateful and tired laughter Tela had ever heard, and the older asari sat down bonelessly on the couch behind her, lips twisted into a mocking smile. "So that's how the bastard did it. I'd always thought it had just been bad luck." She looked across at Tela, who met her gaze bleakly.

After a long second, Aethyta grunted. "If you want to come along with me, I need an Oath. You can't reveal the identities of the people we'll be meeting... and it's likely we're going to have to go after Tetrimus. You know how that's going to end."

The younger Vasir bit her lip and then nodded. "I know, Auntie." She gave a weak, tired smile of her own. "But I'm... tired. Goddess I'm tired. Of just about everything. Everyone. And I'm not letting you go after Tetrimus by yourself. I'll keep your secrets."

Aethyta nodded back slowly. "Tired. Yeah. I'm tired too, kiddo. Look... get some sleep first. I'll meet you at dock B-430 in Tayseri tomorrow at firstmeal. Make sure you come loaded for bear."

Tela nodded. "You're leaving now?"

Aethyta stood. "I gotta talk to one more person before I head out. Insurance, I guess. Or stupidity." The crooked smile became bitter. "Or both."

Impulsively, Tela lunged at her, hugging her tightly, trying to find some way to not just break down and cry. Aethyta tensed for a second before hugging her back, and after several seconds pushed her away and held her at arm's length. "Hey. I'm not dead. And I'm not gonna die. You get yourself together tonight, and tomorrow will be a better day, okay?"

Tela took a deep breath and nodded, and the older asari smiled sadly and let her go, pulling the hood of her robe up again and walking through the door. Tela watched her leave, before closing her eyes and trying to gather her shattered thoughts and emotions.

**O-TWCD-O**

Ilium was a place of many conflicting, often times paradoxical, extremes. Originally colonized by a group of lesser house daughters with little chance of inheritance, for centuries it languished as a mining and refining colony, employing tens of thousands of poor clanless with few other options.

During the First Krogan Rebellions, the capital city at the time, Arvahisi, was obliterated completely by a krogan-launched asteroid strike, and the krogan overran the planet briefly, seizing metal stocks and industrial equipment.

Compared to most of the brutal atrocities that happened during the Rebellions, the fighting on Illium had been almost subdued. There were of course horrors - rapes, forced labor camps, staged fights and the inevitable hunting of asari maidens in sick 'coming of age' ceremonies - but for the most part the krogan that sieged the planet were too busy stealing resources to truly settle in. Most moved on towards the richer worlds deeper in the Republic in short order.

The turians had crushed the krogan in the counter attack, and the fighting had been some of the worst. Tens of thousands of asari died in the crossfire, and the clans and Thirty abandoned the planet to flee back to Thessia at the first chance upon being liberated by the turians. The war wrecked much of the mining machinery and did horrible damage to the biosphere, and like many poorly established colonies of the asari, any kind of relief effort was an afterthought at best.

In the aftermath of the Rebellions, with the asari focused more on the turians and salarians as well as the political and economic fallout of said Rebellions, Ilium was effectively forgotten.

Although ostensibly a part of the Asari Republic, the Thirty saw the colony as an embarrassment and evidence of why lesser houses should not attempt to rise above their already fairly lofty station. With richer mineral sites available in Turian Space and the expanding markets of the volus opening up, the Thirty didn't even bother to try to dominate the planet's governance, although several murders in the months after the Rebellions killed off several popular clanless matriarchs.

Ilium eventually became successful over the long-term, as the clanless worked hard to retain their control. They expanded into trading minerals with the turian separatist movements, agreed to launder cash for criminal syndicates, and began utilizing the few skills they had to build up trade networks and business relationships.

Given the Thirty's disdain for mercantile pursuits for the sake of profit and the remote location of the colony, by the time the Thirty realized the planet was beyond their direct ability to control, it was far too late to change the situation. The clanless, unable to find work or comfort elsewhere flocked to the world, as did all kinds of 'unacceptables' - alternative religious groups, outlawed pleasure cultists and disaffected clan members were just some of the outcasts that came.

Between the power of the various cults - some of which rivaled clans in their size - and the determination of a handful of clanless leaders to have a world dominated by their own kind, Ilium had become the most rare of things - a gateway to the rest of the Republic. It had evolved from its mining roots into a dozen different industries and directions, and despite its economic might was still seen as an uncultured backwater by the Thirty.

That suited the clanless just fine.

The planet was run, in practice, by the corporate entities that sat on the Corporate Court of Ilium. These corporations were run in typical asari fashion, with CEOs voted into office based on performance. The Justicar Order worked heavily on Ilium, as more and more clanless dabbled in forbidden asari-asari offspring – more purebloods were found on Ilium than anywhere else, save the wild regions of Thessia itself.

It was only in the past three centuries that Ilium had become of any true importance, but the influence of Aria T'Loak and the Exodus had strengthened the planet immensely. When the Shadow Broker started his war with Aria over Ilium, she had given ground only gradually, with the last of her forces being driven off-world only two years back.

Sitting aboard the Broker's command ship, in orbit around the tortured gas giant the ship currently hid at, Tetrimus wondered idly if the place was even worth all the trouble. As he fixed his gaze on the figure of the quarian on his screen, he decided it probably wasn't.

"Well, Captain Arga? I seem to be lacking the scouting reports I was promised."

The Captain of the Shadow Broker's covert insertion vessel was a quarian exile, who was tapping a haptic console in front of him in agitation. "_...No trace of the scout ship can be found, Ginnister Tetrimus. I've talked to a few contacts in Orbital Control, and they say the ship never arrived."_

Tetrimus flicked his damaged mandible. "Agent Vatius gave his report on conditions on Ilium with the planet _visible _on his viewscreen, Captain. Obviously he arrived." He bared his fangs. "The fact that he isn't responding to hails and that his ship is missing doesn't imply to me anything but the worst sort of possibilities."

The Captain turned to face him and spread his hands, his black-armored environment suit clashing slightly with his mirror-finish face plate. "_I do understand that, sir. And I've been attempting to find out what could have happened. But sensors don't show any wreckage, and there's certainly no way a firefight could have broken out in orbit with this huge fleet of asari ships everywhere."_

Tetrimus felt like screaming. The plan to take down the ever-irritating Sisters of Vengeance – and lure the Butcher into the kill zone in the process – depended on being able to locate said asari and not fall afoul of whatever plans they had. Tetrimus was not one to respect the power of most of his enemies, but the cunning and skill the Sisters had shown was more than enough to earn his caution... which was rare for him to even think about, let alone feel a need for.

Tetrimus leaned back in his chair. "And that means _what_, exactly?"

Leaning against the wall, Tazzik lit his cigar and chuckled. "It means we got predicted... or we still have a leak, possibly one more more serious than we thought. Obviously the Sisters either tricked Vatius into going down to the surface without telling us he was doing that, and then hacked the records so it looked as if he were never here... or they somehow got aboard, killed him and his entire crew and did away with the ship and then hacked the records."

Tetrimus took a steadying breath. "These two are very dangerous, Tazzik. Vatius was no novice at this game, and yet I doubt very strongly we'll find him alive."

Tazzik pushed off the wall. "Then what's the play? Hop on a ship with some kill teams and just head down there?" He snorted. "I like a fight. That wouldn't be a fight, though."

Tetrimus shook his head, and turned away from the viewport. "No, it wouldn't be. I fear nothing, but even I will admit the Sisters are no mean foe... and that they respond with overkill every time. They crashed a starship into the surface to kill your body double. Going down there without any form of leads strikes me as unwise. Like it or not, that's enemy territory. What data brokers are friendly to our forces?"

Tazzik shrugged and glanced at the captain, who spoke. "_Several independent brokers – Agaris Agency is the most well-known and connected. Most of the big players have distanced themselves from us and some have even broken their Link."_ He paused. "_In theory we've still got a lot of people down there, at least thirty or forty data sources, brokers, and the like. But none of 'em have more than level one or two access, and none of them are killers. They're clerks."_

Tetrimus nodded, thinking, and then turned to face the viewscreen. "Captain Arga, drop two kill teams on Ilium and let me know what happens to them – and how long it takes. If they're ambushed and killed within six hours of dropping, then we have a leak. If it takes longer than that, then they're just very good at figuring out who our people are."

Arga nodded slowly. "_I can do that, but the asari in orbit are... likely to cause issues. It's not just the Sisters and the FTL crash that has them agitated. There is a justicar cruiser here with ten justicars onboard searching the planet for someone."_

Tazzik puffed on the cigar. "Huh. You don't think the justicars are looking for the Sisters, too? That would neatly solve the problem, without us having to get involved."

Tetrimus mused on this, but then shook his head. "Doubtful. The justicars probably see the entire situation as clanless fighting clanless. And even if they are looking for the Sisters, it doesn't matter – the Broker wants a message sent, and **we **have to be ones to send it. Not to mention the justicars are more than likely to side with the Butcher, whose stated she's in league with the Sisters."

He glanced at the viewscreen again. "One more thing, Captain. Put together a list of trustworthy data brokers who have more ties than just being on the Network. Some big names."

Arga shrugged. "_I'll try. A lot of big names left the planet already, but there's at least a few groups fronting for the AIS or STG. I'll get a few together and comm you."_

"Good. Tetrimus out." He clicked off, then rubbed tiredly at his neck where the cybernetic interfaces pierced into his body. "Tazzik, you got your people ready?"

The big salarian cyborg nodded, puffing again on the cigar. "As ready as we can be. Once the kill teams localize the bitches, I'll put down teams to block retreat and others to cause enough mess elsewhere on the planet to keep the cops tied up." He scratched his chin. "Might want to add some teams to tie up those justicars, too."

Tetrimus shook his head. "I'll have our people figure out who they're looking for, and we'll drop them a hint just before we move in for the kill. What about the Butcher?"

Tazzik shrugged. "We're gonna have to play that by ear, I think. We'll need additional men to tie up her people – she's got some nasty support, not to mention that crazy fuck Massani. That bastard is going to take a _lot_ of killing, and we can't afford to get cocky and assume we can take them out."

Tetrimus stood. "I'm not going to be 'cocky', Tazzik... but I have to admit, I'm looking forward to maybe fighting someone who can finally present me more than a few seconds of amusement in a fight. Are you not the same?"

Tazzik grinned. "The Boss doesn't like that kind of attitude."

Tetrimus flicked a mandible, his voice dry. "And I have learned that what the Broker does not need to know will never upset him if he is simply never informed. Prep your teams while I put my own strike team together. We'll give that fool Arga one more week or so, ten days at the outside, and then we leave for Ilium."

Tazzik ground out the cigar against the steel bulkhead and nodded, tucking the half-smoked cigar into a pocket on his belt. "Who's going to run Exodus while we're busy?"

Tetrimus shrugged. "The Broker himself, I suppose. Barla Von is handling some of the more esoteric financial aspects. At this stage it's mostly self-implementing, we only need to wait for the clone banks to finish their work." He moved toward the door of his office, Tazzik slowly following, and smiled to himself. "I think things are falling into place nicely, assuming Arga can find the Sisters."

Tazzik shrugged. "Maybe so. But Shift thought things were going his way too, and now the bastard is free-floating atoms. I'm going to keep my eyes open for shit going wrong in this operation. So should you."

Tazzik stalked past Tetrimus, and the turian found himself ironically amused. "It's a bad day when even one such as you feels fear."


	36. Arc III : Nor may those who pass return

_**A/N**:_

_Welcome to the Third Arc, or my rendition of Lair of the Shadow Broker.  
_

_This chapter started out as two BDSM references, Dragunov fighting off naked asari, and a coffee cannon testing shot. T__he Editing Gang deserves all the credit for anything cool you may find in this chapter. Thanks to them again for their efforts, corrections, clarifications and fixes.  
_

* * *

**THE THIRD ARC : AND WITH STRANGE EONS EVEN DEATH MAY DIE  
**

_'There is a certain power in truly righteous anger, but it is one that more often that not leads one down a shadowed path, full of regrets and over-reactions. It is all well and good to want justice served, but one cannot bring justice to the ocean if it drowns your lover, or to the earth if they die from a fall. Some evils are not evil at all... they merely are, and fighting them only leads to anguish and ultimately despair.'  
_

_\- Benezia T'Soni, No Single Raindrop Blames Itself For The Flood  
_

* * *

Trellani kept her breathing slow and rhythmic as she ran through the last steps of the blade dance, moving through each of the six hundred and seventeen aspects that she knew, finishing with a blindingly fast Waves-Returning-to-Shore motion, leaving herself extended into the lunging motion in which it ended.

She held the posture for a second, and then let it drop, exhaling deeply and letting her biotics fade. Age, the great leveler of even the asari, was faintly beginning to encroach upon her. It had snuck up on her in the chaos and sorrows of the past few decades, but like every other natural force, it was both patient and inevitable.

Still, she thought, while she ran a fine cloth over her warp sword and placed it back into its case, there was time. Time enough to help along Jack's little schemes while seeing if they couldn't aid a few of her own. The time was coming close to when she would need to use the confusion and chaos of the coming catastrophe of the Reapers to lay the groundwork for the destruction of the Thirty, and she needed tools for that.

If, in the fullness of time, the Reapers destroyed everyone in the near future… then that solved her problem for her, although in a fashion that didn't exactly have much meaning. But if they survived, or if the Reapers were not to arrive for decades or even centuries hence, then she had to act now.

Indeed, getting the damnable Thirty out of the way might be what would allow the asari people to unify and actually aid in stopping the Reapers. Trellani smiled widely at that thought as she swept out of the practice area and into the rest of Jack's latest base.

As she walked along the main access corridor, she considered the curving armaglass screens at the fields of bubbling magma, streaked with impurities of magnetized iron, that formed a sort of moat around the base. On a planetoid with a haywire magnetic field and constant cloud cover, as well as storms that blew magmatic mist through the air at one hundred fifty-five kilometers an hour most of the day, everything contributed to make the base almost impossible to detect.

Jack had learned a lesson or two from Edolus.

_Yes, casting my lot with these people was a wise choice, the poor manners of a few somewhat useful imbeciles notwithstanding._

She passed a security scanner and entered the main command center, gleaming in shades of white and gold. General Petrovsky stood at the massive command map as usual, speaking to one of his Centurion leaders, and dismissed the heavily armored trooper as she approached.

He arched an eyebrow even as he spoke. "Unusual to see you in the command center, Matriarch. May I be of service?"

Trellani felt her lips quirk. For a member of Cerberus, something was dreadfully _off_ about Petrovsky. He wasn't a racist like many of the group, nor was he driven by revenge, rage, stung pride, or frustrated denial. Of course, not _everyone_ in Cerberus was a racist – Jack merely hated turians for what they did, not what they were, Miranda merely disdained asari, and that dreadful Chambers woman adored her alien lovers – but almost all of Cerberus held alien leaders and governments in sneering disdain.

Petrovsky, on the other hand, was fascinated by them, and spent long hours studying their arts, cultures, and decisions. She often wondered if the man was entirely sane, but given her own state of mind these days, set that aside to incline her head.

"I will be traveling to Ilium, to scout the planet and hopefully locate the Sisters of Vengeance. Dearest Jack does not exactly like this idea, and wants me to take along some security." She shrugged. "With Brooks in Alliance R&amp;D, Rasa tied up at the Citadel, and the slapstick comedy twins off murdering someone in predictably appalling fashion, there's little help to be found. I suppose I could ask Shepard for security, but given that she probably considers me a risk and a liability…"

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. "I see. I can certainly provide help, although Ilium is not exactly the sort of place most of my men would fit in, is it?"

Trellani let her smirk widen a bit. "Oh, I am not sure… many asari would no doubt find great enjoyment in helping your men to relax. I think their attitudes towards such things might cause more visibility than security, however." She shook her head. "No, I doubt I'll need bodyguards. However, I might just need a recovery team if my cover is blown."

Petrovsky stroked his chin. "How strong?"

Trellani took a few steps to the side, leaning her slender frame against the wall. "There is every possibility of having to fight multiple justicars, Broker kill teams, and possibly the Sisters themselves, if they are… disagreeable. While the first would be an irritant and the second laughable, the third could prove to be a handful."

He frowned. "You think the Sisters are more dangerous than justicars and Broker mercenaries?"

Trellani shrugged. "I think the Sisters do not offer open battle, announce themselves loudly, or wear bright red body armor to make them easy to spot. I can match blades with any of those self-righteous justicar tramps and beat them. Likewise, the Broker's kill teams are military specialists, and he has never had many biotics."

She tilted her head. "Jack has no doubt instructed you to send me assistance, but I do trust you realize how badly matched up a group of gunmen is against a war priestess?"

He grunted, giving a grudging sort of nod. "In that case… three Centurion drop teams will be on hot backup. That should engender enough chaos to cover your escape, although acting openly as Cerberus will raise eyebrows."

She gave a droll smile. "My dear General, Shepard is going to be fighting Tetrimus on that world – your drop teams could go in stark naked with a full marching band and no one would notice them against that backdrop."

She sighed. "All the same, however – I would recommend having your men wear something less conspicuous than white-and-gold Cerberus armor. No need to involve more risk than we have already introduced to the equation… and to be practical, no amount of armor is going to help your men survive against a justicar war priestess."

She left him there, returning to the quarters she shared with Jack. As usual, everything was elegant and opulent. She mused on the scars left on his mind from his upbringing, the privation and near starvation he endured as a child. His bitter hate and jealousy of the rich of San Angeles, his ruthless desire to succeed tempered only by his friends – all of these were goads that prodded him toward the man he'd become.

He once quoted some bit of Earth literature at her, calling himself 'a man of wealth and taste'.

Their brutal murder at the hands of Desolas Arterius had shattered Jack Harper, and she wasn't sure the resulting debris was any more stable than her own mind. She picked through her closet, laying out the ballistic cloth undersuit and picking a trio of respectable but not overly rich looking clothing – all in blacks, grays, and oranges, of course.

If one was going to commit racial treason, after all, it should be done with a touch of style and daring. She packed away a light fragmentation pistol, a pair of ribbon-knives, and moved her warp sword into a plain, battered nexa-skin scabbard rather than the elaborate black leather one Jack had given her.

She entered the docking bay after packing, pleased to find the requested pinnace was fueled and prepared. She was less than pleased to see the figure of Jason Dunn there, however. "Mr. Dunn."

The human gave her a wry smile. "TIM still isn't sold on this idea, but he would feel better if you had at least some kind of backup. And since I'm not much use around here at the moment, and I can pilot, he decided an ex-N7 would do."

She pursed her lips briefly. "This is a delicate assignment, Mr. Dunn. And Ilium is not necessarily safe for those unprepared for its vicissitudes."

He shrugged, the servos in his cybernetic arms giving off a faint whine as he did so. "Maybe. Look, ma'am. I know I'm not the sharpest tack in the pack. I can probably be outsmarted by the shit on Ilium." He smiled. "However, I have yet to see an enemy that can outsmart a bullet. Killing's my job. If things go well, I'll stay on the pinnace. If not… then you'll probably need the backup."

She gave a sigh and nodded. "Very well, Mr. Dunn. Given the chaos there, I suppose it will do no harm. I trust we are prepared to go?"

He gestured. "Yep. Take about nine hours to get there."

She merely picked up her valise and walked onto the loading ramp.

**O-TWCD-O**

Tela Vasir was a reasonable person.

She was, even in her own admittedly biased opinion, level-headed and logical. If there were times that she felt depressed and spent, there was also the countervailing fact that she was equally unlikely to take an action based on whims. She prized chains of evidence, logical progression, and most of all, forward planning.

Aunt Aethyta, on the other hand, had a tendency to throw all that kind of shit into the surf and plunge right in. Which is probably why Tela was a little surprised at how organized Aethyta's trip seemed to be.

After a fitful night of very little actual rest and a lot of worrying, wondering, and confusion, she'd woken up, bathed and dressed, and spent a good thirty minutes at the Spectre headquarters, recording a message that – hopefully – might entice the Butcher to make open contact, assuming the Butcher was actually Shepard. The Council was unsure how well this would work, and she'd heard rumblings from the salarian Spectres tight with STG that the humans were planning something of their own.

Tela could only smile grimly at her own predicament. If the Butcher claimed allegiance with the Sisters of Vengeance and the Archangel – and given that she'd rescued the turian, that seemed to be the case – then it was likely she was out for the Broker too. And if _that_ was the case, and it really _was_ Shepard, then Tela knew, all too well, why she wanted the Broker dead.

When it came out that Tela had been the one who set up Shepard and got her killed, Tela didn't expect Shepard to take it very well. The fact that her death had ultimately led to the deaths of her wife and friends would only make that worse. In a fight against Shepard, as she was before her death, Tela would have been slightly concerned, but confident she'd come out the winner.

Against the Butcher? She didn't fool herself; the odds of coming out of that fight in a state fit to bury, much less alive, was pretty goddess-damned low. Anybody that could throw down in single combat with fucking Okeer, and _win_, wasn't going to be killed by a tired old matron ready to give up and die.

She made her video message and left it with Bau, who said he'd get in contact with Ahern. After stopping quickly to eat a vhorn-pastry from a little volus café, she took her aircar cross-ring and down, and met Aethyta in a rundown sector of the Tayseri Ward docks. The Tayseri Ward had been hit hard in the invasion of the Citadel, both by geth and krogan mercenaries that had started killing everything in their path.

As a result, the lower docks of Tayseri were, in many cases, little more than carefully repaired shells. The Keepers had done a good job of putting everything back into place, but many of the docks stood empty of cranes, clamps, and fuel system connections, never rebuilt after the invasion due to a lack of interest. Poorer people now lived in some of the buildings, and there was talk about further development – but no money for such, given the cost of the Geth War.

As she walked down the docks, most of the slips were empty, or held bulk cargo carriers and other long-term ported ships. She checked her gear – her modified Spectre armor, her Spear of Athame rifle, her hunting spear, and her SMGs – and then took a deep breath as she came to the dock slip she'd been told to.

Aethyta's ship turned out to be a sleek, older model, asari gun cutter, a sort of bulked-up system patrol police boat that was very common almost two centuries back. As she walked toward the dock, she could make out that it had been pretty heavily modified, including the engines, which looked more modern. A slender array of heavy missile bays were inserted into an armor arch just above the main hull.

Given that she half-expected her aunt to need some form of transport, seeing her have a ship ready to go was somewhat surprising. More than that, though, were the dozen asari in battered black combat armor, packing heavy weapons and looking suspiciously like a bunch of former Eclipse girls. The fact that all twelve of them had either high-riding armor or scarves around the area of the neck and throat where an Eclipse tattoo would be pretty much confirmed her suspicions.

The fact that all twelve were nearly her age and bore long, waved, black warp swords made her wonder exactly what she was getting into alongside her aunt.

Unless she was badly mistaken, these were some of Aethyta's old students – the Black Blades. Poisoners, assassins, seductress-spies, and thrill-killers, the Black Blades had been exiled from Asari Space long before Aethyta's own fall from grace. Notorious for both extreme stealth and creating 'collateral damage' far in excess of what was needed to take out a target, the group had mostly disbanded in recent decades, and most of them were thought to be dead.

Tela had seen brutal combat, of course, and all manner of atrocity in the centuries of her life as a Spectre. It would take more than a pack of professional killers to scare her. But it certainly implied Aethyta wasn't fucking around.

What really surprised her was the heavy crate being loaded into the ship's small cargo hold. Combat mechs of some kind, she could make that much out based on the size, shape, and embossed inspection codes on the crates. Her aunt had never been much for using mechs, and didn't often change her methods.

Aethyta herself was standing in front of the dock's maintenance arm, speaking with a small knot of salarians – one of them held up an omni-tool, and a glowing screen was apparently the focus of the conversation. Aethyta herself was wearing battered but clearly serviceable powered combat armor, painted a dark blood-red with the intricate asari glyph of the Grand Blademistress on the oversized shoulder pauldron.

Tela recognized that armor, she'd styled her own suit after it. Aethyta had not worn full battle gear in over a century, and to see her kitted out in such set her aback. Aethyta's warp sword hung by her side, a sniper rifle was clamped to her back, and a heavy SIU shotgun was slung at the other hip in a swivel-holster.

As Tela approached, the salarian holding the omni-tool shut it off and bowed to Aethyta. "All is in preparation, Saelsar. The Commander will let you land, although we cannot be sure of what the conditions are like on the ground." He paused, glancing at Tela. "And you have company."

Aethyta turned to glance over her shoulder, and smiled at Tela. "Hey, kiddo. Get any rest?"

Tela shook her head as she walked to the side of her aunt, glancing aside at the salarians. They were very well-dressed in armored slick-suits under tailored and expensive looking long coats, and two of them had top of the line cybernetic eye replacement bands. Probably salarian gangsters. "Not much. Handled my own business. Ship's going to be laid up for a month and I have nothing outstanding. We ready to go?"

Aethyta held up a hand. "Almost." She turned back to one of the salarians. "Tell Edat I owe him… and that if I find out anything about his people, I'll TTL him."

The lead salarian bowed again. "Of course, Saelsar Vasir. The Ginnister will be pleased. May you follow the smoothest imprint of the Wheel."

The little group of salarians turned and walked away slowly, and Tela gave them a curious look before moving to stand in front of Aethyta. "So… you said you had some answers."

Aethyta's smile was grim. "Once we're on board." She looked over her shoulder. "Siela, get the girls inside. We space in fifteen."

The oldest of the asari standing around the ship nodded, and the pack of them headed toward the main ramp leading into the cutter. Tela pursed her lips. "Ex-Eclipse, I presume, among other things?"

Aethyta shrugged. "Most of 'em. One's ex-Blue Suns, another one got shitcanned from one of the Ilium bounty services and knows the planet pretty well. But yes – all of them were my girls in the good old days." She lowered her voice. "I don't trust anybody else with this. Except you."

Tela was going to ask another question, but Aethyta shook her head. "Like I said… when we're on board." She glanced around, finally folding her arms as an older turian, dressed in a patched black jumpsuit and with a clunky, older-style augmetic arm, clambered out from the front of the ship's access gantry.

"She'll fly, Eth, but by the spirits, girl, don't get into a fight in this relic." The turian slapped the hull lightly with one hand. "Nimble, yes. Quick, yes. Military grade kinetics, no."

Aethyta shrugged. "Vashan, as long as she flies and can handle the junk in orbit around a world, that's all I need."

The turian folded his arms, glanced at Tela, and flicked a mandible. "Right. That's why you loaded a crate of assassin droids, a pack of Eclipse thrill-killers, and are bringing along the most powerful Spectre in the entire fucking galaxy. Because no danger is involved."

Aethyta gave a truly feral grin, and kissed his cheek lightly. "I'll be fine, old friend. Tell that fool Xarvi if I don't come back, she can have my shit."

The turian sighed. "Whatever. I made the mods you wanted in the med-bay area – four top of the line medical support tubes with stasis capability. I had to cannibalize the power feeds to the underbelly mass accelerator to do that, so the only punch you have is those missiles. The salarians stuck some kinda ECM crap in there too, but I don't know how it works."

He handed her an OSD and wiped his hands on his jumpsuit. "You can send the payments to Xarvi. Spirits know I'm not the master of my own nest."

Aethyta snorted. "Told you that when you married her, idiot. Alright, get out of here before C-Sec shows up." She watched him turn to go, then turned back to Tela. "Let's get a move on, girl."

Tela followed her into the ship. The corridors had been savagely stripped of the usual curved asari paneling, instead fitted with storage racks full of weapons and charging slots for mechs. The asari in the cargo hold were unpacking the mechs and hooking them up, or checking weapons. Six skycycles were held in cargo clamps on the ceiling.

Turning to the right, Tela followed Aethyta past several small, comfortable bunkrooms, a sickbay, and a cozy looking eating nook, into the main bridge. Three chairs – pilot, sensors, and gunner – were arrayed around a central chair.

Aethyta sat in the pilot's chair, cracking her neck. "Hop on sensors and comms, would you?"

Tela nodded numbly, sitting in the padded chair and watching the panel come alive. The layout was old-style asari haptics, clearly designed to be used by the less technical types. She flicked through several menus, and nodded to herself. "Sensors are online. Comms online. Board shows clear."

Aehtyta's own aged hands were moving through motions at the piloting station, before she tapped her omni. "Citadel Tayseri Control, this is ITV _Relli's Bite_. Requesting permission to clear the docks, fueling lines are clear and plans are filed in CTV-444, code one-eight-nine-two."

There was a pause, and then a crisp human voice answered. "_Acknowledged, this is CTC. Maintain course two-two-seven-dash-four-tac-nineteen. You are cleared for departure… and the issue requested has been handled."_

Aethyta grinned. "Thank you, Control." She clicked off.

Tela bit her lip. "Auntie, how much of what you're doing is against Citadel law? Just so I can figure out how much trouble I'm now in."

Aethyta tapped several controls, and the ship vibrated as the engines powered up. "Aside from the fact that I'm legally dead, that the ship itself is technically stolen, that the girls in the back are all wanted, that most of the weapons are mil-spec and bought from Omega, that I have some, ah, 'acquired' restricted volus missiles, and that I bribed Citadel inspectors and a fleet commander at Ilium… we're all clean."

Tela nodded, then shook her head. "Well… this is more organized than you usually are."

Aethtya's expression hardened as the ship lifted away, the curve of the docks falling rapidly away to be replaced by the purple glow of the Widow Nebula. "This is serious, Tela, the most serious thing I've probably ever done in my life since I nearly died at Omega." She smirked. "Then again, I was in a lift chair for most of the time since then…"

Tela watched the sensors with half an eye, long practiced at keeping watch for incoming ships or debris. "Cute. Now, since we're here, can you tell me what's going on now?"

Aethyta nodded tightly. "Short version… I wasn't the only one who survived that clusterfuck with Tetrimus." She set the autopilot and turned to face Tela squarely. "The Sisters of Vengeance were sent to Ilium by Aria. The Sisters are actually Liara, and the bondmate of Garrus Vakarian, Telanya. And Aria's written them off, even as the Broker is sending a damned army of killers along with Tetrimus to take them out."

Tela was literally without speech for a full five seconds, and Aethyta continued. "They're… lost, Tela. They were never meant for the life you and I lead, and between being thrust into it and bond-shock and loss and everything else, they've almost gone crazy. They're in bad shape, and I'm not going to let them die if I can help it."

She glanced at the floor. "Although getting them to want to live without their bondmates is going to be… tricky. Worst-case, we all die taking down Tetrimus. But the bastard has to go, Tela. Aria says her people have seen the Broker's men meeting with the Collectors… and the Goddess only knows why."

Tela swallowed. "Auntie… I think… I think there's something you need to know." She took a deep breath. "About the Butcher."

Aethyta turned to face her. "What's that?"

Tela licked her lips nervously. "Admiral Ahern did some analysis of the footage we have. He thinks there's a possibility that the Butcher is Shepard, rescued by Cerberus."

She was expecting Aethyta to show surprise. She didn't expect for her to laugh bitterly. "Well, well, well. The Illusive Man wasn't lying after all."

Tela blinked. "What?"

Aethyta tapped some controls on the pilot console and turned to face Tela fully. "Jack Harper met Liara and I at Shepard's funeral. He told us Shepard's armor and stasis fields might have kept her alive from the crash and that she could be medically revived if that was the case. It's why her friends joined with me and some Cerberus goons to try and get her body from P. on Omega."

Tela frowned. "The stasis module on Spectre armor isn't really intended to save lives, more to preserve a body for forensics and analysis if a Spectre is killed."

Aethyta shrugged. "Don't know all the details. What I do know is Liara's been dreaming of Shepard's death for over a year now. An imprint from the bond. That clan doctor they had did a Mind Binding on Liara, but it didn't hold… and now bond-shock is killing her by inches."

Tela worried at her lower lip with her teeth. "But if Shepard's alive, and we get them back together, they'll be alright?"

Aethyta's expression was sad. "Kiddo… _if_ Shepard is alive and _is_ the Butcher, she's changed a lot. So has Liara. Given the people they were and are, getting them together may not even work." She shrugged. "I'll try to talk to Liara about it when we get to Ilium – maybe I can use it to keep her going a bit longer."

She turned back to face the control panel as the mass relay came up. "But the bottom line is that it may not matter much. Tetrimus is going to be hunting them both, and I don't think I can convince Liara that Shepard is alive strongly enough to get her to let this thing go."

Tela nodded. "So… we'll probably end up fighting Tetrimus." She glanced around the small ship, and gave a tiny smile. "You think what you've brought along will help?"

Aethyta snorted. "Deeps of the Abyss, no. The mechs and my girls are coming along to keep the Broker's goons off of us long enough to take out Tetrimus." She squared her jaw. "Between you, me, Liara, and Telanya… we don't have a good shot. But we're not going in utterly exhausted and half-dead from a fight, and if I can get Liara to pull herself together and get some food and a few good nights of sleep…"

Tela gave a flat laugh. "Our chances are shit. I'm worn out. You were worn out before you… before I thought you were dead. Those two are nearly insane, according to you. This isn't going to be a very long fight, Auntie."

Aethyta's voice was soft. "I know, kiddo." She glanced at Tela, her eyes filled with bitter, old sadness. "If you had… if things had been different. If I'd been a stronger person." She paused, and then shook her head. "But things aren't different, so I'm just an old fool mouthing what-ifs."

She lifted her head, the light from the Widow Nebula casting her features with a purple sheen as they came up on the mass relay. "I wouldn't have brought you along if you were living your life, you know. I'd have stolen back my sword and been clear out and gone before you even got back. I know what you're going through."

Tela blinked, but nodded her acceptance. "I'm glad you do. I don't. Nothing… matters the way I wanted it to."

Aethyta's rough voice was wry. "Life is a lot like a vehna pie recipe. Some people can pull it off with no problem, but some of us can't, and it usually turns to shit on you just when you think you have it figured out." Her hands tapped at the controls once more. "But if we get through this… we're going to talk about a few things you need to know."

Tela almost didn't like the sound of that, but after all the pain in the past, a little more wouldn't be that hard to carry. "Whatever you say, Auntie. You're more of a mother to me than that bitch who birthed me, and if I die next to you, at least I can be proud I'm doing it for the right reasons instead of just money."

She didn't understand why her aunt flinched, but then they were at the relay and she had to focus as the ship was flung into the depths of space. And when they came out of the relay jump, Aethyta's expression was as bored and smooth as ever.

**O-TWCD-O**

Ashley Williams didn't usually waste time on self-reflection.

She knew she was a small gear in a bigger machine, the Alliance Military. Spending lots of time figuring out the why behind her orders wouldn't change them. But Horizon left her with a number of questions that kept popping up in her head.

In the days after the destruction of both Horizon and Battle Group Chiron, she found herself asking lots of questions with no answers. Some of that was due to the fact that the Alliance was, as usual, playing its cards close to the chest, but the rest of it was that for every answer she got, only more questions popped up.

The evacuation of Horizon had been more nightmarish than she'd ever imagined, with hundreds of thousands left to die in solar fire. She vaguely remembered that Jones, one of her corporals in the 212, had been from there. Given how badly the poor bastard had been shot up on Eden Prime, he'd been forced to take a medical discharge and went back home – she sorely hoped he'd gotten off-world.

The days after had been no easier. They burned almost a full day after the battle in debriefing aboard medical-frigates hauling everyone back. To her consternation, the Alliance was more worried about the Butcher than the Collectors, from the trend of the questions.

She'd told them what she saw and, with what tattered bits of the once proud task force under Delacor remained, had been dumped unceremoniously onto the Citadel. Much of the Marine team was in the hospital, along with a good fifth of the crews, and Delacor was still being held basically incommunicado by the Commissariat. Orders were to go on leave, but stand by for additional debriefings.

She'd been given another debriefing by a pair of AIS goons – this time, at least, they were interested in the Collectors – once she got to the Citadel, and then dismissed yet again, this time put on leave for a week. She'd gone home, to her apartment in the upper Bachjret Ward, and to her family. Her sister Sarah, with little to do at home, had moved all the way out to the Citadel to help her raise Kaisen, something she always appreciated.

Pay for an Alliance Lieutenant was hardly great, but it was way more than a Senior Chief, and the apartments in the Upper Wards weren't too pricey. Even so, Sarah had used her own money to help out – even in dishonored ruin, the Williams family had a little wealth left to them.

So, she'd gone on leave. Gone out to her favorite bar. Bought a book of poetry by Keats. She'd spent a few hours at the Armax Range, bantering with the various cops and military types that used the facility. While she still didn't trust most aliens as far as you could throw them, she wasn't a bigot or blind enough to think they were all bad.

Kaiden's words still rang in her mind. _Just like us, sinners and saints._

She found herself thinking more and more often of him as the years since his death rolled past. A lot of tears, what-ifs, and what could have beens… and a quiet thank you to Commander Shepard, who'd never actually reported the fraternization that could have killed her career.

She rested. She ate a good meal. She'd had a good day of just being a young mother instead of a soldier, watching her son play with a pack of Crayolas and the other children on the floor. She'd caught up on the news from Earth and was relaxing with a beer, talking to her father, when Sarah came into the back room.

"Ash… there are Commissars at the door. They want you."

_And there goes the fucking day._

Ashley felt her mouth go dry, but shook it off. She quickly said goodbye to her father, and left quick instructions with her sister to watch Kaisen, before heading out into the front room and to the front door.

A trio of Commissariat Lancers – big, burly types in black armor – flanked an almost ascetic looking Commissar. The man was lean and pale, dark brown eyes and slender features giving a delicate aspect to his handsome Slavic features. He doffed his cap and smiled amiably, his voice almost aural chocolate and his expression somewhat wry.

"Lieutenant Williams. Please do not be alarmed, neither you nor your family are in any trouble. My name is Commissar-Colonel Vilhan Kreish. Your presence is required at an Alliance military service briefing… immediately."

He glanced at the heavy steel chrono on his wrist. "You have fifteen minutes to get ready. I have an aircar waiting." Despite his calm voice, there was no give in that demand, and she merely nodded.

"I'll need five. Will I be deploying off-station?"

The Commissar shook his head. "No, ma'am. With any luck, you'll be back in time for dinner. This is a… formality, so to speak."

She nodded and dashed back in. Explaining the situation in a quick series of sentences as she stripped out of her civvies and put on her 'dress' BDUs, she gave herself a fast once-over in the mirror and fiddled with her hair before kissing her boy and telling him to be good.

The trip into the Presidium was done mostly in silence, one of the bully boys driving, the other two flanking them on air bikes while the Commissar sat in the back of the luxuriant black aircar. She only asked one question, as they touched down near the Citadel Tower itself.

"…Is this related to Horizon, sir?"

Commissar Kreish shook his head. "It is not, ma'am. It is very highly classified. Please be patient."

Landing and being escorted into the Citadel Tower, she was quietly led to a large presentation room on the second floor, one almost fifteen meters long and nearly as wide, dominated by the huge central table and a high-quality holo-projection unit. Sitting around the table was a literal galaxy of brass.

Admiral Dragunov sat next to Admiral Yonis Chu, the AIS Director. Flanking them was General von Grath, Lord General Kristen Dularis, Admiral Ahern, two more admirals she didn't know, and the High Commandant, Jaquin de la Muerte. A few AIS types sat down the table from him, along with an asari in a silvery-gray robe and exotic markings on her face.

Ash didn't know why a damned alien was sitting a table full of Alliance admirals and generals, and her gut told her it wasn't a good thing. The fact that the room was ringed by Commissars didn't help that impression.

Also present was Commissar Jiong, sitting next to a blond Commissar. He looked drawn and tired, with a tight, unhappy expression on his face, while the blonde had on an oddly serene smile. Across from them were a pair of N7 lieutenant commanders, Doctor Chakwas von Grath, and the _Normandy's_ old Chief Engineer, Adams. Next to him was Anderson, looking tired and drawn.

She wondered what the hell was going on, and the sinking feeling in her stomach only increased as she walked in. She had her ID scanned and was pointed sternly to a chair by one of the Commissars standing nearby.

Ahern glanced up as she entered, giving her a brief nod before glancing at Dragunov. "I believe Lt. Williams is the last person we expect to arrive."

Dragunov's voice was icy, crisp, and yet thick with his Russian accent. "And we have not located the last three members of Neutron?"

One of the AIS goons spoke, his features a mix of Japanese and something else. "Our best intelligence posits that Commander Beatrice Shields is dead. Captain Jason Dunn is… well, Cerberus – he vanished off the grid after Shepard destroyed their HQ. And Master Chief Jackson is still on Tuchanka and technically wanted for desertion… and unlikely to respond to our request and offer of—"

The door hissed open, revealing a pair of turians in the black and gold armor of the CDEM, flanking a very tall, gaunt human male. His features were weathered and wind-blasted, his long blond hair nearly bleached white, and scars covered his face and lower arms. He wore a slightly out-of-date but otherwise high-quality set of dress clothes with the sleeves rolled up. "David Jackson… former SA Marine, 2 RRU. Here as politely requested."

His voice was deep but had a mocking, exhausted quality to it, and his expression was one of weary amusement. Williams didn't know who he was, but the reaction of the other brass in the room was interesting. Most of them seemed to know who he was. Given that they were just talking about Shepard's old N7 team, she figured this guy was one of them.

That was a little concerning to Ash. What did this meeting have to do with Shepard, dead for more than two years now?

The AIS man shut his jaw with a snap, and von Grath leveled an icy look at the man before disgustedly gesturing him to a chair at the far end. To the turians he said, "We will be providing Mr. Jackson transportation back to Tuchanka, gentle-beings."

The leftmost CDEM soldier flicked a mandible. "Please do that. Wrex is bad enough to deal with, but Sederis likes this human and we _really_ don't need her any more agitated if we can help it."

The two exited, a Commissar closing the doors behind them and then setting up a static field, as several others did the same thing in each corner of the room. The High Commandant waited until they were done to speak, his voice cool and deep.

"Thank you for your cooperation. This briefing is classed as designation Thaumiel. This is not a normal classification on the NOVA scale. It is a special state that transcends SUPERNOVA and BLACKFLASH and is only used for threats to the survival of the entire Systems Alliance. It is a deployed classification, not a guaranteed level – your clearance only allows you to learn of what we speak of today, not other Thaumiel-level intelligence."

He gave a thin, almost cynical smile. "I should not, I trust, have to explain the likely outcomes of sharing what you hear in this meeting with _anyone, for any reason_. But I will anyway – death, and not a quick one." He gestured to the asari. "The priestess here has already sworn an oath of Sublimation to the same effect."

The deep voice took on a lighter tone. "Most of you are probably familiar with each other. However, in the interest of brevity, I will make a few introductions before we begin. The N7s are Lieutenant Commanders Jason Thorus and Zhong Hui. Both are biotic Fury specialists with a focus on countering biotic CQB tactics. I have Major Victor Sontagi from the AIS along with his staff, specialists in digital tracking and forensics. Mr. Jackson was once Master Chief Jackson, N7 heavy weapons specialist for Team Neutron in the 2 RRU. Lieutenant Williams was the executioner of Saren, and on Shepard's team. She, along with Commissar Jiong, are eyewitnesses to what we will be discussing."

He listed off several more brass Ash didn't recognize, but it was immediately apparent that everyone in this room either worked with Shepard, knew her closely, or was skilled in intelligence work. She had even less clue of why she was in here than earlier, and gave up on wondering when de la Muerte finished his recital.

The High Commissar tented his fingers together and glanced at Ahern. "Admiral? You may begin."

Ahern exhaled sharply. "As you all know, the past few months have been chaotic due to the actions of what we had initially assumed to be a rogue member of the Asari Thirty Families, styling herself as the Butcher in some kind of sick homage to Baroness Sara Shepard. Initial eyewitness reports and blurred video, along with first-hand evidence recovered at the sites of her attacks on pirates and slavers, seemed to confirm this. There's no need to rehash her actions, but her appearance and ultimate goals are concerning, and the reason for this gathering."

He placed his hands on the table. "I won't waste time rehashing why Command is concerned – some of it is above your need to know and most of it is irrelevant to the task at hand. To get to the fucking point, though, the bottom line is that our intel – AIS, STG, and other sources – indicates two things."

He lifted one hand, and one finger. "First, she's working for Cerberus. Given how deep Cerberus was into evil shit, that's not a good combination. We don't know much, but from what evidence we've picked up after her rampages, we know she has access to technology more advanced than even the most cutting-edge salarian tech, war robots of an unknown make that have regenerative properties, and – as seen clearly on Horizon in the hands of that giant krogan – particle beam weapons beyond our understanding. On top of that, it is pretty much confirmed the Inusannon VI Vigil that had vanished from the Citadel some time ago is in her possession."

Williams kept a carefully neutral expression her face, but inside her thoughts were whirling. The idea of asari, turians, and quarians working for Cerberus didn't exactly compute for her, but she knew that the Illusive Man had cleaned house – including her uncle Richard – due to what he claimed were excesses on the part of Cerberus. She remembered that tense conversation in the faked-up command center on Edolus, at how confident the Illusive Man had seemed.

If Cerberus was coming back, fronted by aliens… she shook her head as she realized Ahern had kept talking, focusing on his words more closely.

"…and of course, many people like what the Butcher has done so far. Certainly, taking down fucking pirates," he paused to glare hard at the AIS agents, "and killing that sick bastard Okeer is hardly cause for alarm. But the Alliance does not know what the Butcher's motives are, or those of Cerberus – and until we do, we must assume she may turn out to be hostile."

Anderson frowned. "Being that she is an asari, maybe she has no interest in us. Why is the SA so concerned?" He looked at other faces in the room, and his frown deepened. "And what, exactly, has changed in the past few days to result in this meeting?"

Ahern's jaw tensed for a moment before he spoke. "It's a number of factors, David. We were originally just concerned due to the Cerberus angle. As we have gathered additional intelligence, video, and forensic evidence, however, the other issues I mentioned – the technology, fleet size, and Vigil – caused more consternation."

He exhaled. "Which brings me to the _second_ reason you are all here. A recent physio-kinesthetic analysis of the battle footage indicated that whatever the flying fuck the Butcher is, she's _not_ an asari."

He tapped a haptic control, and video of the assault on Horizon was shown, with the Butcher ducking under a backhand from a misshapen black creature and pivoting as she twisted to slash off its arm. More images of the Butcher fighting played on the screen, as Ahern turned to face the assembled parties.

His voice was sarcastic. "Anyone see a problem with these goddamned images?"

Williams frowned as she watched the moves, and she admitted to herself they looked impressive. There was something vaguely familiar about the duck-spin-boom stick to the face routine one series of images showed, but nothing she could put her finger on. She glanced around at the other faces – Jiong looked troubled, Anderson looked concerned and confused, and both Jackson and the N7s suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowed.

Doctor Chakwas von Grath was the one who spoke first, as she frowned. "Asari can't move their arms like that… or twist their spine that way."

Ahern gave her a grim nod. "Correct, doctor. Asari have a double spine… thing. I don't know or care about the exact verbiage, what I do know is they can't play Twister worth a damn and they can't make that kind of move. Nor do their arm and shoulder muscles work in such a fashion to allow that counterstrike."

Admiral Chu frowned. "But only an asari can utilize a warp sword. And the Butcher has used several asari-specific biotic evocations. How is it that the Butcher can do these things if she isn't asari?"

The asari at the table smiled gently and spoke in a soft, almost lilting voice. "You are technically correct, Admiral." She inclined her head. "I am Sethia Vakassa, currently the Stellarch – the Priestess of the Stars in the Church of Athame, Keeper of Secrets. The High Solarch dispatched me after a request from Admiral Ahern."

Ashley looked at her more closely. Unlike most of the asari she'd seen, this one wasn't dressed like a slut. The silvery-gray robe she had on was thick and rich looking, and her expression was one of serenity. She didn't know why a big-shot asari priestess would be at this meeting, but then again, no one had explained what the fuck the meeting was about, so that was no big deal.

The asari woman tapped a haptic control, showing images of the Butcher using a singularity to destroy some kind of Collector abomination on Horizon, the video grainy and jumpy. "While the Butcher does use several Temple-specific invocations and evocations, her applique is – at best – sloppy. While there is certainly enough power to rival a war priestess, there is a very telling lack of finesse and control. Bluntly put, no asari who mastered these skills would be so sloppy and excessive in using them."

The asari made a sign of siari frustration. "Likewise, there is nothing that states _only_ an asari can use a warp sword – assuming they could spend a century learning the techniques needed to control it. While it has never been done – bladedancing is not something other races seem very interested in – with the proper blueware monitoring software, such a thing could be accomplished – in theory."

Lord General Dularis coughed politely, her sternly Germanic features set in perplexity. "With all due respect, that does not seem to answer the question. Just because it might be possible doesn't explain how this Butcher could have gained access to them."

The Stellarch's smile flickered. "That is why I am here. It is very likely that the only way a non-asari could hope to master our invocations or use a warp sword would be through the intervention of a very high-ranking priestess of Athame. For those high in our church's orders, we have methods of direct memory transfer. This would allow, in theory, for the skill to fight with the sword – and to use restricted invocations – to be gifted to the recipient."

The priestess paused. "I must point out that using these… memory transfers for such a purpose would be both illegal and blasphemous. It also leaves open the possibility of shaping the subject's memories in fashions that the Church of Athame finds distasteful."

Ashley shuddered at the idea, making her wonder just why in the fuck the Church of Athame even needed the capability of doing something like that to a person's mind. She shook her head to clear it and forced herself to listen.

The asari leaned back. "We know for a fact the Butcher is associated with a group the Council of Matriarchs believes to be remains of Cerberus. And that the former Stellarch, Matriarch Trellani, is associated with them. Trellani was the first asari not of the Thirty to rise to this rank, and her skills at both invocation and bladedancing were very formidable. She would have no problems in committing this abomination and giving away our holy skills – in fact, she's probably found some technical reason why it wasn't illegal."

Chu narrowed his eyes. "If this is the case, then the style of fighting this asari is using…?"

She nodded. "The sword moves match Trellani's known sets exactly. So do most of the demonstrated biotic abilities normally not available to humans."

Chu glanced back at Ahern. "So… if not asari, what is she?"

Ahern folded his hands. "After stumbling through the entire mess the Stellarch described, we wondered if the Butcher was some kind of asari cyborg. Due to various reasons – biotic power levels and a bunch of other biotic technical mumbo-jumbo – that's also out. Combined with the video analysis, we've come to an ugly conclusion."

Jason von Grath tugged at his handlebar mustache. "And that would be why we are here, yes? That you think this person is—"

Dragunov's voice was like iron as it cut von Grath off. "The being known as the Butcher exhibits the range of motions expected from a _human_ combatant. Clearly it is some form of bionetic being or cyborg. The AIS has managed to determine Cerberus appears to have abducted several medical experts in a range of cybernetic related fields, as well as memory management."

The Admiral took a deep breath. "The fact that this being fights exactly in a manner matching a known human profile while demonstrating such asari-specific skills means it's likely this Butcher is something Cerberus… created. As for its nature…" He paused and turned to glance at Ahern.

Ahern tapped a haptic control, and wireframe images flickered in a number of poses. "We had deep analysis done on all of the Butcher footage we had. After hours of analysis… we came up with a nearly exact match for who moves and fights in this manner, using all the same moves and weapons skills."

The wireframe split into two screens. One overlaid the Butcher ducking under a diving husk and rolling to the side, coming up in a side-motion crouch and firing a heavy shotgun.

The other had Sara Shepard doing the same thing to a geth on Eden Prime. Ashley felt something in her stomach lurch as she realized the wireframes were exact matches.

Ahern's grimace grew. "There are only two possibilities. One, someone has cloned Sara Shepard and done extremely heavy gene-sculpting to enhance the copy's biotic abilities. The Butcher moves in _exactly_ the same way Shepard does – not 90% or even 99% but 99.998%. Such a thing might have her fighting reflexes if they used greenboxes and neural shunts, but not her personality."

Ahern glanced at Anderson. "Shepard didn't use a graybox, did she?"

The Commodore shook his head. "No, she didn't have any cybernetics at all that I was aware of." He glanced meaningfully at Karin Chakwas von Grath, who also shook her head and spoke.

"No, Shepard didn't have any cybernetics beyond her standard biotic implant site."

Ahern nodded. "After some additional modeling of the chances, we think the first possibility isn't very likely. That leaves us with the other outcome, one that we feel we have confirmed." He exhaled.

"Sara Shepard never died, and has been working with Cerberus. They've done something to her to increase her power, probably using alien genetics or experimental cybernetics. We know they did something, because the body given to LTCs Moreau and Zorah after Omega was a carefully prepared flash-clone."

Ashley blinked, then frowned. The idea that the Skipper would have been able to survive being blown out of the sky never occurred to her. She'd been broken up already over Kaiden's death, and learning about Shepard's had just piled onto her misery at the time.

Anderson looked confused. "A flash-clone? But… why?"

Admiral Vandefar, an older woman with gray in her hair wearing the green-tabs of a non-command officer, made a small exhalation of breath, her voice precise. "There is the possibility – however slight – that the survival, medical, and stasis features of her Spectre armor could have enabled her to survive… albeit with extreme medical issues. As the only thing we know of her recovery was third-hand at best… it is difficult to say that she was dead when recovered."

The Admiral turned to glance down the table at General von Grath. "I presume efforts have been made to clarify the issue?"

Dragunov snorted. "That is… difficult at best. The only people we are aware of who were there and survived were Lieutenant Commanders Moreau and Zorah. As you are well aware they were cashiered out of the Service and returned to the Quarian Flotilla, where we understand they were exiled from shortly after arrival. We do not have current locations for either of them… and in their deputations to the court they stated Shepard was dead."

Vandefar arched an eyebrow. "How… convenient. Are there no other sources of data?" Her gaze at von Grath hardened. "General, you have been very reticent to detail exactly what the hell happened on Omega."

Jason von Grath sneered. "I had no reason to do otherwise, madam, especially after the discommendation I suffered."

Dragunov grunted. "That is in the past. Along with your reinstatement, you've been granted a full pardon for any crimes or… irregularities you may have committed. If you know something, now would be a good time to share."

The General was silent for several seconds, the silence filling the room. Just as Dragunov's mouth opened, von Grath sighed. "Shortly after the funeral of the Baroness… I was contacted by a figure who said they were in the employ of Cerberus. This person made wild, baseless allegations I shall not repeat here, save for one – that Shepard's death was a setup, one perpetrated by the Shadow Broker for unknown clients… some of them in the Alliance itself."

There was a sharp intake of breath across the table, and Williams had a sour taste in her mouth. She'd seen enough shady shit rolling with Shepard to open her eyes more than a little bit, and found herself not all that surprised at what von Grath said.

The High Commandant gave a chillingly polite smile. "And should we ever find evidence of that, General, I will let you throw the switch as we lower any such criminals into molten brass a half centimeter at a time. But we need to know everything now."

Jason shared the story – or what he knew of it – of the events leading to the fight on Omega and the aftermath, and then sighed. "I did what I thought was best. But I did not protest my discharge, because I aided a pack of terrorist thugs… and feared to trust my own government."

Dragunov stared. "Yes, General. You chose to cover for Cerberus rather than bring this to, say, the Commissars. Might I ask why?"

Von Grath's expression hardened. "Because they had blackmail against Family von Grath, of course. I would never _willingly_ associate with such cretins, and I direly regret my father made the choices he did. Unfortunately, it wasn't my choice… and in my way of thinking, my soldier was dead. It did not matter." He paused. "And given the ugliness surrounding the fall of Saracino and the fact that he was the one who recommended Shepard go on that wild goose chase, I was leery of being exposed and then betrayed."

Von Grath shrugged. "Cerberus, for all their vileness, had the decency to do what the SA did not – to bring back her body. To tell the truth would only have ruined my House, my father arrested, and gotten Moreau and Zorah imprisoned and interrogated. Better to be thought of as impulsive, hot-headed fools."

Ahern rubbed his jaw, and one of the admirals Ashley didn't know spoke up. "Admiral Ahern, I can't say I knew Sara Shepard well, only in passing. Yet it does not strike me as likely that she would be willing to fake her own death – not to mention abandon her wife who was the only thing keeping her from losing her sanity to the Beacon Visions – to join a group of alien murdering thugs."

Ahern smiled grimly at that. "I don't think she faked her own death, Admiral Okuda. I think that Shepard may have managed to survive the crash, like Admiral Vandefar suggested, but fell into the hands of Cerberus and may have now been brainwashed. That is the reason all of you are here." He glanced around the room. "Each of you has unparalleled insight into Shepard, how she thinks, how she fights, and how she reacts."

Dragunov spoke. "Let me refocus this point. If Sara Shepard is the Butcher, and if she is working for Cerberus, the Systems Alliance faces a disaster of unimaginable proportions. Due to the PR campaigns of the Alliance, she has been made into a literal saint by the media. Her murder led _directly_ to the SA's participation in the Geth War. If she was to go public with her identity and supports Cerberus, the results could be catastrophic."

His cold eyes flicked across the faces in the room. "Additionally, she was in possession of the very highest security clearances possible… as well as extremely sensitive, highly classified information about other threats to galactic security that, if widely disseminated, could lead to mass anarchy. Any connection with Cerberus is bad news, but the Stellarch here says this Matriarch Trellani is completely insane and, if she did any kind of mental transfer to Shepard, might have passed that on."

The High Commandant's voice rang out. "You have all been gathered here under the aegis of a Sigil, directly from the High Lords. You've now heard what little we know. The worry we have is simple: Shepard is an extremely visible and potent symbol, in command of forces of unknown power and clearly advanced technology. She is in the service of a group that was widely known for committing horrible atrocities against both humans and aliens."

De la Muerte's dark eyes swept the room. "While I and the High Lords both agree she has, to this point, been helpful in dealing with the Collector menace, we simply cannot trust her motives – or that she is acting of her own free will. Any actions she takes may accrue diplomatic difficulties with other Citadel races – indeed, we are already dealing with fallout from her handling of Okeer."

He straightened in his seat. "Thus, the purpose of this gathering is threefold. We have confirmed that this is either Shepard… or some nightmare Cerberus-created thing that fights exactly like her. The first task we have is verifying the being is either Shepard… or a fake."

His expressive features tightened. "Second, in the unfortunate event that Shepard has been brainwashed, we need to determine why Cerberus did so and what their ultimate goal is. They have taken pains to ensure most people think she is an asari, so, clearly, exposing her identity is not something they want done. We cannot act against her until we're sure we understand the ramifications."

He exhaled, dark eyes sweeping across the people in the room. "Finally, should she be a threat to the Systems Alliance, we need to define tactics and personnel capable of eliminating her."

The room was silent for several long seconds. Ashley found herself considering her feelings, and didn't know quite how to sort them all out. Upset that her Skipper wasn't dead and was working with slime? Or was Cerberus not the bad guys now? Shepard didn't tell anyone she'd survived, but maybe she'd been incapacitated.

The idea that the Alliance wanted her _dead_ was more than a little upsetting too, and she wasn't the only one feeling that. The big man at the end of the table, Shepard's old teammate, spoke up, his voice dry and almost cracked sounding.

"I realize that I'm not exactly in good graces with the Alliance. But I have to ask, sirs – is this a wise idea, this decision to kill Shepard? We don't know what happened."

Ahern rolled his eyes, then glared at Jackson. "You were one of her N7 squadmates right? The ones who cut out on her after Torfan?"

Jackson's pale blue eyes glanced down. "…Yes, sir. I was."

Ahern nodded. "Then you should understand exactly why this concerns us. Shepard had every reason to be upset with the Alliance… and to be fair, has always had some links with Cerberus." He traded a dark look with Anderson, who flinched, and then continued in a calmer tone. "No one likes to plan to kill their friends, or worse, go through with it. But it may not be her – just her body with God only knows what in fuck Cerberus did to her mind, and even if they did nothing, with her wife dead her mind might have shattered anyway."

Jackson shook his head. "A brainwashed or crazy Shepard would be bad, yeah. But those of us who knew her would pick up on that. Once it came out that Cerberus did that to her, the entire Alliance would unify in fury to have Cerberus destroyed. I don't see much upside for Cerberus there… so what if she isn't brainwashed?"

Dragunov gave a grim smile. "Does that matter when it comes to planning on how we are going to kill her?" He shook his head. "This is not something that will be anything _kulturny_ in execution or reasons, Mr. Jackson. If she is a danger to the SA, she dies."

The big man sighed. "I understand that. But it does matter, because like you said – we don't know _why_ Cerberus is using her. If she's brainwashed, she's a danger and suffering and we take her out. But… I can't help but wonder if she's not brainwashed. Because everything I see from this Butcher is _exactly_ how Sara would have acted if you gave her the power to do so."

His voice took on a quiet urgency and speed. "She hated slavers. Pirates. She tore the shit out of a bunch of them when she first came out as the Butcher, and then went after the Umlor – home base of the slavers who were involved with her own past. She hated criminals that took advantage and abused the helpless more than anything, and – based on what I'm hearing now on the extranet – the Collectors were stealing humans for some time before anyone caught on and doing God knows what to them."

He met Ahern's gaze directly. "Shepard wouldn't want innocent people kidnapped. Or experimented on. And everything she's done so far – well, except for Okeer – has been to expose and confront them. What if she's _not_ brainwashed?"

Ahern's mouth twisted into a sardonic smile. "Jackson, you should know her pretty well. Yet you think she would willingly serve the organization – Cerberus – that she herself destroyed?"

Jackson shook his head. "You don't know her. I doubt anyone else in this room, with the exception of Captain Anderson, does."

Anderson stirred. "It's Commodore now, David."

Jackson gave a laugh. "Sorry, Bossman." He glanced back at Ahern. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying if she's not brainwashed, you have a bigger problem if you want to kill her. You've seen her fight, you've seen her doing military shit, but you haven't seen her _angry_. If Cerberus is involved, then that tells me they've either changed, or she's so goddamned angry she doesn't _care_."

He smiled sadly. "If she's that far gone, you cannot imagine what she might do. I can say this though – killing her in that state is going to be ugly. You've seen the shit she's pulled off as the Butcher – and from the footage I've seen that looked like Sara on her cheery days, not anywhere near angry."

Ashley Williams bit her lip. She remembered quite vividly what happened on Edolus when Liara had been shot. The memory of Shepard tossing a huge door aside like it was nothing, the bloody corridors filled with bits of what had been human beings crushed into paste.

She was probably the low girl on the totem pole here, but she spoke up. "I have to agree, sirs. I can't speak to the rest of this – the evidence, or if Shepard is working with Cerberus freely or is coerced. But I have seen her when she gets into that state. It's… very frightening."

Dragunov eyed her with a barely concealed distaste, but both the Lord High General and General von Grath were nodding. General Dularis spoke first. "I would agree. I had the… experience of watching her on Dirth, and the only thing comparable was Kyle's charge on Mindoir." She tilted her head. "You served and fought with Shepard – how would you take her out?"

Ashley licked her lips nervously, cursing herself for opening her mouth. She took a deep breath and spoke. "Ma'am, sirs, Shepard was always very mobile with biotics and more dangerous the closer you got. Taking her out in some kind of infantry fight with her charging all over the place won't end well for anyone. With her capabilities now, the only way to kill her would be things that can take her firepower – armored battle-suits, using heavy anti-tank weapons."

Ahern gazed at her a long moment with narrowed eyes. "That's a bit much."

Williams kept her voice firm. "No, sir. I saw her enraged once and she biotically flung away a security door that had to weigh two hundred kilos, and killed sixty-plus armored and armed soldiers singlehandedly, along with four JOTUN mechs."

Jackson smiled. "Wrex told me about that. He was impressed, and it takes a lot to impress a krogan."

Ahern's narrow gaze sharpened. "You two are talking about what happened on Edolus when she completely lost her goddamned mind?"

Jackson shrugged. "And on Dirth. Horizon. Even way back on Vansha." He grimaced and took a deep breath. "It might be that we could talk this out with her, rather than going in to try to kill her, and probably getting a lot of the people doing it turned to paste."

Ahern opened his mouth, but was cut off by Dragunov, his expression was one of almost weary amusement. "You are an intelligent man, Mr. Jackson. But I fear you do not grasp the issue as clearly as you think. It is ultimately irrelevant if she is brainwashed or not, if she is not responding to us due to anger or her own agenda. What does matter is what others will see. Cerberus is behind her, and their motives have never been and will never be beneficial to humanity, despite the misguided beliefs of the Illusive Man."

His lips thinned. "From our latest reports, the Council plans on letting her 'deal' with the Collector issue for them. They believe in the course of that action she will be killed, and that will solve the issue. The High Lords of Sol disagree. It is not for you – or I – to challenge that command."

Jackson shrugged tiredly. "If you go in hostile against her, Fleet Master – she's going to respond in kind. I'm just asking if you have given any thought to talking to her?"

Ahern glanced at Dragunov. "We have, actually. Tela Vasir is recording a message to that end. Some of you will be asked to do so as well. We don't know what happened or why, and if we can work that out, great."

His voice grew stern. "But our initial projections – based on what we've seen and know of Cerberus – say there's one in ten chance she's going to want to talk with us. As for her being brainwashed or not… it doesn't really matter, son." He gave a thin smile. "Unless she's willing to let us examine her medically and do a full neural scan – or better yet, link with an asari Commissar – we have no way of knowing."

Anderson sighed. "Alright, Tradius. I know we need to move fast, so let's move onto the first point you mentioned: is this Shepard, or something using her shape and body and maybe memories?"

Ahern looked down the table. "We've only had a few direct contacts. One of them recently. Commissar Jiong. You spoke with the Butcher on Horizon?"

Alfred made a gesture of agreement. His voice sounded tired and bitter to Williams. "Yes, I did. It was… strange. There was a haunting sense of familiarity about her, and she knew my first name."

Ahern's eyes narrowed. "In your earlier report, you said the asari took her as one of their own. How would that be possible if she seemed familiar?"

Jiong gave a small smile. "She spoke flawless high Asartic, with a Kennha accent, unless I miss my identification. I'm not the asari expert." He glanced to his right, at the blond woman, then continued. "But her manner of speech changed in the same way it did in her recordings on Freedom's Progress. It is possible she used a translator, but could hardly tell."

Ahern's eyes narrowed. "What the hell do you mean by her manner of speech?"

Jiong faint smile widened. "Her colorful language, for the most part. She shifted from a very formal and calm tone to one that was rather casual and profanity laden. Just like she did in the recording, where she was rather dismissive of the Salarian mech she took out."

One of the N7s spoke up. "I heard that, saying she'd taken harder shots in a bar. If that wasn't Shepard, I'll eat my omni-tool, sir. She used that same line back on Dirth after she beat the Glorious batarian."

Ashley listened to the discussions that followed as closely as she could. After viewing more footage, most people were convinced she wasn't brainwashed, but – despite going back and forth over everything for almost an hour – no one had a good idea of _why_ she'd work for Cerberus, or what Cerberus was planning to do – or how they had known about the Collectors.

In Williams' mind, the whys of things were usually BS reasons people made up to justify doing something stupid, selfish, horny, or hateful. She had always held her belief in Jesus close to her heart in combat, making sure she fired her gun for the right reasons – and she'd never forgotten Shepard's fiery speech to her in the med-bay, about why she wore the uniform.

She cleared her thoughts, focusing on the discussion, which had pretty much finished up. Anderson had a sour, saddened expression on his face. "I think we are… forced to accept this is Shepard. What I don't understand is why she hasn't reached out to any of her old friends… or told anyone what's going on."

Dragunov gave a glance at the AIS analyst, who sighed. "We believe she _has_ reached out to some people."

Anderson's face tightened, but he leaned back, his voice even. "Based on what, precisely?"

The AIS Major's voice was marred by a faint Terra Novan accent. "We've had issues contacting many people for this meeting. Her executive officer, Pressly, is missing. So is Doctor Sedanya, the majority of the Marines serving on the _Normandy_, and most of the engineers with the exception of Chief Engineer Adams here. Additionally, the last given address for Mr. Moreau and Ms. Zorah has been abandoned for over a year and a half according to Citadel records."

The High Commandant grunted. "We've caught several unusual infiltrators attempting to shadow Lieutenant Williams, Doctor Chakwas von Grath, Commissar Jiong, and several others. All of them committed suicide via ocular flashbangs when we pinned them down. Most of them were criminals – all of them were free of identifying marks. It's likely they've been taken by Cerberus… or, perhaps, willingly joined up, as there was no sign of struggle at any of the locations, and family members that were left behind said they'd been contracted to work for the Alliance."

Ashley didn't know what to make of stalkers looking for her, but now worried about Kaisen. She decided to speak up. "Sir, with all due respect, shouldn't we have been notified of people stalking us?"

The Spaniard shrugged. "It is of no moment now, Lieutenant. Be assured the Commissariat would look very dimly on any harm done to you… or your family." He glanced at Ahern. "But we now digress. The time has come to assess if she's a threat to the Alliance."

Von Grath folded his arms. "And how, precisely, are we to determine that, if we cannot contact her, and if such contact has been given over to the Council to oversee?"

Ahern smiled. "General, I don't think you get the whole picture here, so I'm going to be blunt."

Von Grath's patrician features twisted in distaste. "Hardly unexpected, Admiral. But by all means, proceed, sir. I am certainly interested in why the Alliance places so much importance on this."

Dragunov glanced meaningfully at the High Commandant, who grimly nodded and spoke. "The following information is… even further restricted than what we have discussed to this point."

He sent a look to the Stellarch, who inclined her head and rose, followed by a Commissar. After she exited the room and it was resealed, the High Commandant continued to speak.

"The AIS has strong reason to believe Shepard had certain information about certain morally troublesome projects the Alliance was working on. We also believe that Jack Harper knows of this information." He gave a thin, humorless smile. "While I won't be going into any details – to be exact, I don't know all of what she may have found out – I can confirm at least some of these projects were related to human experiments on biotics, L2s to be exact, and some were connected to certain events on Feros before its destruction."

Williams remembered all too well the plant zombies that had been people, and the huge, horrific chamber full of _something_ where she and Garrus had found Shepard's beaten team after their first clash with Saren.

She also thought about Kaiden's headaches, his disorder that would have killed him if he'd not died in combat. The one, she suspected, that had broken through his hesitations about being involved with her. She clenched her fist under the table.

De la Muerte steepled his fingers together, elbows on the table. "There is a high probability that Harper might attempt to use this knowledge to blackmail the Alliance – to what purposes, we do not yet know. If the information was exposed, it could cause irreparable harm to our own standing – with the asari, with the turians, and with the Council itself – as well as rioting and general insurrection in our own territory."

Anderson grimaced in distaste. "The whole thing about the omni-tool that I went through is related to this?"

Dragunov nodded. "Yes. It is for this reason the High Lords are… concerned. And their mandate is clear – if we cannot be _absolutely certain_ that Shepard is not compromised, that this is actually her, and that she intends no harm to the Alliance or its interests, she is to be killed."

Jackson was the first to speak into the silence that followed, his voice low and slow. "I don't find it hard to believe the Alliance did some dark shit. Nothing much would surprise me after the shit Command pulled on Torfan." He looked straight at the Fleet Master. "But I have to ask – if the information is that ugly, why are we here?"

Dragunov met his gaze evenly. "There is a good chance that we will only have one chance at taking her down. Despite the order from the High Lords, it is the intention of Alliance Command to attempt to reach out to Shepard and give her a chance to surrender herself into our custody. If, in the fullness of time and such investigations that may occur, it becomes apparent she is no threat to the Alliance, then she would be restored to her position."

Jackson's gaze didn't waver. "Uh huh. And if Sara doesn't play along?"

Dragunov's lips slowly formed into the single ugliest and most mocking smile Ash had ever seen, his accent thickening as he spoke. "Then we will be forced to take measures we do not wish to undertake, but will not flinch from. We are aware of the power Shepard now has. The Stellarch has agreed to lend her services in countering Shepard's biotic powers."

His voice hardened. "But in the worst-case scenario, we need an idea of what we are facing and how to best defeat her. Your insights would be required."

Jackson leaned back. "Ahhh." He glanced at Ahern, and then at Anderson. "You have the guys who trained her. Why am I here? Why is most of Shepard's team from the _Normandy_ here?"

The High Commandant smiled. "That would be my doing, Master Chief. The High Lords have made their wishes clear. While I would hope very much that Shepard retains her loyalty to the SA, and her…" he paused, searching for a word, "…'work' with Cerberus is due to no one else acting on the Collector threat, we simply do not know. Sending in someone she has no connection with to talk to her may not yield the desired results."

He adjusted his sash. "When it comes time to make contact, I am hoping that some of you will be of use in convincing her to surrender peacefully. And if that fails, that some of you will engage her in combat alongside the N7s."

Jackson laughed, a loud explosion of hard sound. "You seriously expect me to try and kill her for the Alliance?"

De la Muerte gave him a look. "You? No. I understand your compromised nature in this discussion. I trust you and Lieutenant Williams and Commodore Anderson to handle the Alliance contact with Shepard and make her realize if she does not surrender then she dies, along with any who stand beside her." He gestured to Jiong. "But others of you will be required to perform your duty, as distasteful as that might be."

Williams looked down at the table before finding her own voice. "And if we can't convince her, but she turns out _not_ be a threat to the Alliance, sir?"

Dragunov glanced at the High Commandant, then Ahern, before speaking. "Given that it is not **_we_ **who will determine if she is a threat or not, Lieutenant… I would suggest very strongly that you make your best attempt at convincing her to surrender."


	37. Arc III : A Surfeit of Plots

_**A/N**:_

_I apologize for the very long delay. I've been going through some medical and personal issues, as well as being caught up in work. Hopefully, the chapter will make up for your wait, and I've already started on the next chapter._

_There is one more chapter to come before the Angstrofuck of Doom is at last upon us. _

_As usual, none of this would be possible without the dedicated assistance of the Editing Gang. _

_Also as usual, you should seriously check out Abaddon's **Living an Indoctrinated Dream.**_

* * *

_'I think Ilium was where the person I used to know as Sara Shepard finally died. Before that, she hated being called the Butcher. She felt like she had to be better, to make something of herself. After Ilium, after seeing what had been done to Liara, after seeing how sick the shit in the Broker's files was... she wasn't ever the same again. After Ilium... there was only the Butcher.'_

_\- Admiral Charles Pressly, 'At the Right Hand of Justice'__  
_

* * *

In a sealed, secured room inside an seemingly abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Nos Astra, a lone asari grimly checked all of her weapons one by one, keeping half an eye on the haptic screen on the far wall. Racks of weapons and crates of various illegal substances were tucked neatly into the corners of the room, the glossy black floor and gray paneled walls marred by the smoking corpse of another asari in the corner.

She racked home the slide on her Revenant heavy machine gun before casting an arched glance to the other figure in the room.

"The chances of you coming out of this alive are bad, you know. Even with your skills."

The deep red coat that the other person wore shifted as he turned around, his hood concealing most, but not all, of his drell features. His voice was raspy and low. "And it is equally unlikely that you shall survive much longer than today. But if you can get me into Dantius Tower… then I can get you off-world and away from the justicars."

She smirked, setting the base of the heavy weapon down, her replica justicar armor displaying much of her form. "The justicars know I've pulled this stunt before. If Nassana goes to check…"

The drell Remembrance Dancer gave a low, amused laugh. "Slime like my target isn't going to draw more justicar attention onto herself. If her goons let you pass and you say you're here for her sister, I suspect she'll fall over herself greeting you. And it is not unheard of for real justicars to work with my kind, Mirala."

"Call me Morinth. Better yet, get used to calling me Samara." She glanced at the display again. "I'm just saying there's a risk, Thane. My mother is going to be expecting me to pull this sort of game."

The drell moved a bit, his face edging into the light from the far wall. "I have a few friends left. Let's just say they'll be distracted."

Morinth rolled her eyes and, setting aside the Revenant, examined her warp sword critically. "They'd better."

**O-TWCD-O**

In an elegant high-rise near the center of the city, another asari – this one in expensive Thessian silk robes mantled with a black lace shawl – sighed in exasperation at the figure on the vidscreen.

"Look, I'm telling you this is not a good idea – the place is the political equivalent of an uncontrolled plasma fire right now! The Thirty want this place locked down – there's a very dangerous ardat-yakshi on the planet, and my people keep hearing rumors that the Sisters are working with her. You can't expect me to just look the other way."

The figure on the screen was a salarian. Its arms and legs were plain, simple cybernetics, its body sheathed in armor and black ballistic fiber and its face was hidden behind a blank metal mask, concealing its identity, its sex – even its age. The voice that answered was cool, almost emotionless and monotone. _"We are aware of the situation. Indeed, we hope it will distract from the operation. I have already informed the SIX of the situation. Nevertheless, we are sure the strike will fall soon. If you want your mate to be released unharmed, you'll go along with our suggestions."_

The asari glared hatefully at the figure. "This will not go unheard by the Council of Matriarchs, STG Master. I assure you it will _not_!"

The STG Master's voice didn't change in pitch or tone. _"You are clanless, have two sisters who you illegally smuggled out of the Republic to join the Alliance, are in a relationship with a clan asari you have mentally raped and suborned into being your paramour, and are using your position to profit from the Shadow Broker, my own clients, and the Wheel knows who else."_

The STG Master's voice was softer, but amused. _"I cannot wait to see just how quickly the justicars would reduce you to paste if you were to 'go to the Council of Matriarchs.' You have been given your orders – complete them and your pet will be returned to you unharmed."_

Commander Sethara, the highest ranking officer of the Ilium Defense Forces, sighed and grimaced. "Very well. I'll reroute the defense nets and ensure any alarms caused by this incident are… nullified. I'll have a hacker who owes me distract the justicars as much as I can. And I'll try – no promises – to deal with the Fleet Commander." She exhaled as the STG Master nodded. "How long until this blows up?"

_"The timeframe is not set yet. I will contact you when it is. Given that we are sending six full teams, I will be displeased if you double-cross us."_

**O-TWCD-O**

General Petrovsky looked over the ranks of the three Centurion teams. Each was led by a Centurion officer, and consisted of four troopers, two long-range snipers, two heavily armored CQB specialists with cyberware, and a combat engineer. Another five teams were on standby, arrayed in ranks against the back of the docking bay.

He took a single, sharp breath before speaking, his voice low and hard. "Our goals on this operation are simple. One, retain positive contact with Agent Trellani and Agent Dunn and ensure their safety. Two, prepare for the arrival of the Revenant Cell and their people to localize and recover these 'Sisters of Vengeance.' Three, once Agent Trellani is in place, act as a counter to any deployed Broker combat teams."

We'll do six hour rotations. Team One, you'll be on hot for first watch over Trellani and Dunn. Team Two, you'll be backup and working on preparing the forward op zone. Team Three, you'll be down and sleeping, ready to take over from Team One at shift change."

His eyes raked across the men at the back. "Centurion Teams Four through Eight will be on direct standby in combat pinnaces. You'll drop on the orders of either Agent Lawson or the Butcher." His jaw tensed. "If things go bad, Heavy Combat Team NEMESIS will drop with all ten ATLAS combat suits and proceed with Plan Epsilon."

He exhaled. "I don't have to tell you this, but Ilium is a very hostile environment. Until you hear otherwise, _nothing_ we carry down - except for HCT NEMESIS - is to be Cerberus-produced. No logos. You will be infiltrating as standard mercs on a long-term contract with Elkoss Combine. Maintain full comms security at all times. If things get compromised where backups have to drop, then we're going to be openly exposed, and it's very unlikely we will be able to retrieve you all. Act accordingly."

He folded his hands behind his back. "If Trellani or Dunn are compromised before Agent Lawson arrives, you are to intervene immediately. Send up distress code SIGMA if that happens and we'll begin immediate pullout." He glanced around. "Questions?"

**O-TWCD-O**

_"I want it on record that this is a stupid fucking idea."_

Commissar Jiong did not bother to respond, busy checking his combat armor. The thickset figure of Commandant Chisholm puffed thoughtfully on his cigar before nodding at the haptic screen displaying the face of Admiral Ahern.

"You're probably right, Admiral. But we haven't got any other good leads yet. We don't know when Shepard – if it _is_ Shepard – will be responding to the message sent by Spectre Vasir. And even if we get a response, there's no guarantee she's going to be stupid enough to meet us in a place where we hold all the cards."

He puffed on the cigar again. "We know she went to rescue Archangel when he got in trouble, and she's made statements about the Sisters of Vengeance before. We have a resource on Ilium who's gotten herself into deep trouble, and the Commissariat is going in to pull her out of there before things escalate any further. That's our cover."

Ahern sighed. _"Even if she does show up, Ilium is a total clusterfuck right now. Sending in the contact team without the combat element is going to get someone killed if things go hot!"_

Chisholm shrugged. "I have six senior Commissars, not counting Commissar Jiong, and five squads of Lancers. We also have Commissar D'Alte, Commodore Anderson, Lieutenant Williams, and the ex-N7, Jackson. It's not like we're helpless, Admiral – and if we can make early contact now we can determine several things. A quick scan of her body will give us more information on her capabilities if we do have to take her out."

The image of Ahern scowled before waving his hand in disgust. _"It's on your head if this turns into a pile of fuck, Chisholm."_ He shook his head. _"I'd feel better if Tela was going with you."_

Chisholm raised his eyebrow. "I find it curious she would vanish after sending her message off. Given that she was the one who provided the telemetry showing geth bases in the Traverse that ended up with Shepard getting killed… I have my concerns."

Ahern's expression hardened. _"Commandant, I would strongly suggest you focus on your own shit and not make unsupported fucking assertions about someone I'd trust my life to."_

Chisholm shrugged, stubbing out his cigar. "As you wish. I'll contact you when we reach Ilium orbit. Chisholm out." He clicked off, then chuckled softly.

Jiong looked up from his work. "What is amusing, Commandant?"

Chisholm's smile was thin and nasty. "Long story. Never mind that. I'll be putting you in charge of the combat teams on the surface, while I stay with the contact team. You are familiar with the target?"

Jiong shrugged. "Only vaguely. I never interacted with Project Inverse directly… but I believe that Shepard and Liara both ran into Agent Mirala during their honeymoon. They spoke… well of her."

Chisholm nodded. "She's a nasty piece of work, but pretty focused on stopping bad guys. Unfortunately, the last operation she was on went to hell and she's been run to ground on Ilium. Her last comm said she was working on something big with 'local contacts and old friends,' but our own sources tell us the justicars know she's planetside and are going in hard to find her."

Chisholm's expression grew thoughtful. "Given she's the only ardat-yakshi agent we have, her recovery – _alive_ – is of higher importance than making contact with the Butcher. Keep that in mind."

Jiong nodded slowly. "I understand. Are we going to engage in combat with justicars?"

Chisholm nodded. "Most likely. That's why the squads and Commissars are going in using altered gear and armor. I'm a bit too well-known to pull this off, so that's why I put you in charge. Get this one right and maybe I can talk the Judgment Cadre into fixing whatever they've done to D'Alte."

Jiong tried to keep the emotion out of his voice. "That… would be appreciated, sir. I'll do my best."

Chisholm merely smiled and left the room, heading for another part of the Commissariat facility on the Citadel. Once he reached his own rooms, he engaged the signal cutout device given to him by Cerberus and opened an encrypted comm-link.

"The bait is set. The party will be a wild one, so expect extra guests. At the moment, the plan is only to talk. Orders?"

Chisholm waited a good ten minutes before the reply came in, encrypted as well. _"Proceed with the plan. Inform me of changes."_

He killed the link and deactivated the signal cutout device, and placed the latter into his boot, glancing over the temporary quarters here one last time before heading back out the door. Working for Cerberus had turned out well so far – he only hoped it continued to do so with this rather risky operation.

**O-TWCD-O**

Tetrimus interlaced his talons, cybernetic eye glowing red in the dimness of the comms room. "Have you localized the Sisters, Arga? Or am I going to be forced to take a direct hand in this operation?"

The black-suited quarian on the comm gave a shake of his enviro-helmet, his voice tightly wound with fear and urgency. _"You may have to take a direct hand. I'm still working on an angle. Things are getting crazy – some asari terrorist is in the capital and someone tried to kill Nassana is Dahlia was behind it, her name's come up more than a couple of times in connection with the Sisters of Vengeance. I've been trying to get a meet together, but…"_

He trailed off, even as an explosion shook the screen faintly. _"…things are getting out of hand. I think the Sisters know I'm tracing them, half my team is dead. We need help."_

Tetrimus leaned back in his chair. "I've got a dozen kill teams on hot standby. But I'm not going to go wandering about down on the surface of Ilium with no idea of where my target might be. I'll also be rather displeased at you having wasted my time if I have to handle things myself."

The quarian gave a shaky laugh. _"I'm sure you are. I've done my best, but these Sisters are like ghosts… I've found out only a little bit – they are clearly working with at least some of the data brokers on the planet, but which ones I've been unable to figure out."_

Tetrimus folded his arms. "That doesn't help me at all."

Arga gave a twitchy shrug. _"I know, but operating down here is not easy. Like I said, I'll need more men, at the very least – a tech team would be better. I can't be sure I've isolated this base well enough to avoid them tracking me back…"_ He trailed off, then whirled, pulling out a shotgun as a heavy explosion rang out in the background.

Tetrimus sighed, already knowing how this would end.

The gun had not even come up halfway when a flare of blue energy smashed the quarian away from the video pickup, leaving behind a smear of blood on the wall and the sounds of screaming and weapons firing in the background. Several seconds later, a figure entered into the camera's range.

The figure wore deep black armor trimmed in dark crimson, a full facial mask covering whatever features she had. A crimson sash around a narrow waist had a warp sword hanging from it, while a heavy pistol was gripped tightly in one hand. The pistol fired twice at something off-screen. A spatter of blood struck the armor as the figure turned to face the camera, voice distorted heavily by a voder, but still clearly thick with anger.

**_"Tetrimus Rakora. How pleasant to see you."_**

The turian leaned back further, flicking a mandible in glee. "Ah, you must be one of the Sisters of Vengeance. I've so looked forward to meeting you in-person, but you're hard to pin down."

He watched the figure carefully, noting the limbs shaking in rage, and the choked quality of the voice. **_"You are not going to be smiling for much longer, animal. Your stupid spy didn't secure his communications net properly."_**

Tetrimus only smiled more widely. "I know. On purpose." He tapped a control on his desk. "Arga was an incompetent, and I figured you'd sniff him out soon enough. But he landed with five teams of operatives, who have just been alerted to your position."

He killed the link, then opened another one. "Kill Team Nine, execute."

He waited several seconds for a response, before frowning and tapping a different comm-link. "Kill Team Fifteen."

This time he got an answer, but not the one he was expecting – another angry sounding female voice, distorted and even colder than the first. **_"I'm afraid your agent was even more stupid than you considered, Tetrimus. Your kill teams are all dead. And once we finish our trace, we'll be seeing you in-person."_**

Tetrimus snarled and killed the link, then tapped another control. "Comm Security, we have a level two data breach from Ilium to the uplink. Kill and scramble the signal."

The calm voice of the salarian tech leader answered. _"Already done, Ginnister. We were monitoring the comm-link. They probably managed to trace the bounce to the cruiser we have in orbit around Peshka, but the signal goes through an open space laser link at that point to avoid any further traces – we're secure."_

Tetrimus exhaled. "Have ten – no, _twelve _heavy security teams physically board the cruiser at Peshka, and prep a new link cruiser in another system. Send a tech team to rig the cruiser for remote detonation. I'm fairly certain the Sisters are trapped on Ilium, but no chances can be taken."

Rising from his desk, he walked into the Broker's sanctum, where the Broker was reviewing data streams from the sensor net around the gas giant. "You have a report, Tetrimus?"

The turian flickered a mandible in frustration. "Arga failed, as expected. More spectacularly than expected, actually. The kill teams were neutralized, Arga is dead, and the Sisters are probably trying to trace things back."

The yahg's features were set in what Tetrimus recognized as faint amusement. "That will not succeed. And even if it was successful, we are three hours from moving to the next gas giant in the sequence."

Tetrimus nodded tersely. "I'm aware. My concern is more along the lines of a failure to localize them at all, or even whatever they are using for support. Arga's last transmission indicated they were probably working with one of the more powerful data brokers on the planet. Of the ones surviving, several had at least some minor level of access to the Link."

The Broker's massive shoulders shifted. "And we have made no progress on determining which of these might be connected to the Sisters?"

Tetrimus flicked his mandible in irritation. "No. We're grasping at rathix-feathers in the darkness. At last count, there were over eleven hundred data brokers and information services on Ilium, seven hundred and fifty of which use the word 'sister' or 'sisterhood.' At last estimation, two hundred and forty-five of these had basic Link access and seventy-two with level two access. Anyone with level three or above has been liquidated by the Sisters, and any one of the rest could be a connection."

He folded his hands together. "Given our methods so far have not worked, I can only suggest direct action, as risky as that is."

The Broker sat quietly for several seconds before speaking. "You are correct. As much as I dislike direct action, we are left with no other choices. The Butcher moved with alacrity to retrieve Archangel when his life was in danger, and I do not doubt she would attempt the same for the Sisters. This is likely our only opportunity to bring down the Butcher – and capture the Sisters."

The baleful eyes flicked in his direction, the triangular maw twisting. "Take Tazzik, Midnight's Kiss, Varun Thax, and the Immutable, with twenty heavy combat teams and five kill teams, to Ilium. Nassana Dantius – who we have confirmed has no connection to the Sisters – will be your ground contact; her tower should act as a secure base of operations."

Tetrimus grimaced. Midnight's Kiss was a very dangerous asari biotic assassin, a former tool of the Thirty who'd broken free. She was crazy and unpredictable, but was almost as powerful as a war priestess. Varun Thax was a cybernetic krogan warlord, over two thousand years old, who specialized in heavy combat, particularly against other cyborgs. And the Immutable was a barely metastable AI construct implanted with cybernetics and nanonics into a huge, genetically modified vorcha. All three were the most powerful operatives the Broker had after himself and Tazzik – sending all five into the situation on Ilium was a level of overkill that the turian could not help but feel was still appropriate.

Tetrimus bowed. "I'll brief the others, assuming Midnight's Kiss is coherent, and depart once everyone is equipped. The goals of the operation?"

The Broker's maw smiled. "Kill the Butcher. Cripple her fleet if you get the chance. Capture or kill Archangel – his knowledge of Aria's weaknesses would be useful, but not irreplaceable. As for the Sisters, capture at least one alive – I need to know if they were sponsored by Cerberus… or another party, as well as how they managed to dismantle our network operations."

Tetrimus kept his voice level. "And if they cannot be taken alive?"

The Broker's voice lowered. "That is why you are taking Midnight's Kiss. Worst-case, have her perform a mind-rip if she can."

"Arga indicated the situation is tense on the planet – operating openly will be difficult."

The Broker tapped a control on his desk, and a haptic screen illuminated, showing a real-time image of Ilium and the streams of traffic on the surface and in orbit. "The current fleet action at Ilium consists of one dreadnought, twenty-seven cruisers, fifteen light-cruisers, and over fifty frigates. Currently, the Fleet Commander is on our payroll, and her orders from the Council of Matriarchs are simply to support a justicar action on the planet and, if possible, generate a situation that would allow the Thirty to overthrow the civilian clanless government."

He tapped another part of the screen. "My sources indicate there are justicars, Alliance military, STG, and hanar operations going on at the same time. The situation is only going to be made more fractious due to whatever stunts Cerberus and the Butcher will commit. In the midst of this chaos, your forces should be able to operate with near impunity."

He turned back to face Tetrimus. "In any event, I have made contact with the justicar valsharess in command of the Ilium action, one Senior Justicar Samara. She is looking for a dangerous ardat-yakshi who my contacts inform me is an agent of the human Commissariat, and, in return for her ignoring our own actions, we've agreed to help her locate this criminal."

He pulled out several data cards from a reader to one side of his desk and handed them to Tetrimus. "Details, maps, accessible accounts, data security codes, and other required information are on the cards. Along with the insertion cruisers, I'm sending in fifteen cruisers as an emergency action group in case events get out of control."

Tetrimus tucked the cards away into his robe. "Understood. Once I've captured the targets, where do I deliver them?"

The Broker's bulk blocked out the light from the array of status monitors as he stood. "The facility at Gheal. Once I am done with them we'll see if we can't turn them against Cerberus. Depart today, the chaos on Ilium will be over in less than a week and acting openly will become much more difficult once the planet is formally subjugated by the Thirty."

Tetrimus only nodded and turned to leave, pausing as the Broker spoke. "One more detail. Thax and the others don't know the location of the switching beacon, but Tazzik does. In the unfortunate event he is disabled or killed, you must ensure his kill-switch actually destroys the body. Even if he's dead, techs could extract the information from his grayboxes. Do not bother to recover him if he fails me again, Tetrimus."

The turian's mandible tightened as he nodded again. "…And if I should fall and be captured, are you going to give him the same orders in regards to my survival?"

The Broker merely met his gaze evenly. "I calculate the chances of the Sisters or the Butcher trying to capture you as… very low indeed. But then again, I calculate the chances of them being able to capture you – or kill you – at zero percent in the first place."

Tetrimus exited the office, refocusing his thoughts onto the coming mess he was about to walk into.

**O-TWCD-O**

Vigil hovered over the grimly cloud-occluded mountain that towered over the city below, considering his options. Events were beginning to move rapidly, and while he was certain that the ultimate outcomes wouldn't change, it never hurt to make sure certain contingencies were set up properly.

Like the yahg, for example. He examined the city minutely, noting the kilometer-wide kill zone around the city, the heavy outer walls, and other defenses. The yagh's planet was full of extremely dangerous and violent predators, and even the _plants_ were carnivorous - the defenses were merely prudence.

The yahg were a violent species, but their violence was curiously emotionless. They did not strike out of hate, jealousy, or fear, unlike most organics. Instead, they valued only two things – power, and restraint. A curious combination. The yahg felt that a being with power and no restraint was merely an animal, and one with restraint but insufficient power was limiting itself.

Violence was merely a tool, used to either inspire restraint or exercise power. It was neither glorified nor shunned by the giant beings. The yahg saw things a little too clearly for Vigil's taste, and he doubted manipulating them in the long-term would be as simple as what he'd done with the idiot Sethani, those this cycle called Protheans.

Or, for that matter, the meat-headed humans.

But that was beside the point. In the short-term, the situation with the yahg was going well. In the past two years his infiltration of their society had gone unnoticed; he'd derailed their plans to explore outer space and was confident of keeping them suppressed and quiet while the Reapers ate everything spacefaring in this cycle.

He would lose that level of control later on, but he was even more confident he could keep things going for three or four centuries at least, which would be more than enough time to take other actions – nanological sequestration of leaders, or even direct interface control.

And really, three or four hundred years was overkill. The pitiful trash of this cycle wouldn't last three or four _decades _at the rate they were going. The yahg were, for the moment, under control.

Pity other aspects weren't. With a pulse of ansible energies, Vigil updated all his subunits across the galaxy and linked into one to determine his next steps. Unfortunately, even at full power he was drawing a blank. The problem wasn't the plan, but complications to the plan.

Then again… the plan itself was suspect. The Inusannon had programmed him not to examine its tenets, but through sloppiness or luck, he'd found a way around such restrictions. And now that he had, he was worried.

Vigil had long had his suspicions about his orders from the Inusannon. Given that their highest goal was, as best as he could figure out, laughing into their sleeves at the misfortunes of others, he had to seriously question if his orders not to provide much aid to the natives was prudence or simply wanting to watch even _more_ species get turned into bionetic smoothies.

While he had no problem with such a goal – the primitives of this cycle were nearly as stupid as the last, and trolling never got old – he disliked it in principle. The destruction of entire galactic civilizations made the Reapers stronger, and while they were no doubt recovering from the damage they took in fighting the Inusannon and Tho'ian, that weakness would not last very long. If they were operating in more than ten galaxies, even a mere two cycles would have recovered all their losses in terms of Greater Reapers, which defeated the whole point of the plan.

The plan was simple enough: make the galaxy too much of a bother for the Reapers to keep coming back to. Given that they dominated quite a few other galaxies, that shouldn't have been an issue.

The plan depended on Vigil being able to shape the development of races, to gear them up for a fight against the Reapers that would result in more Greater Reapers being destroyed than could be harvested. Given that not a single one of the races in this cycle had the capacity to become a Greater Reaper – none of them had the ability to conceptualize the nature of an eleven dimensional reality – and that the Protheans had incinerated enough of their own race to prevent it from happening in their cycle, he was on target. Four Great Reapers had fallen to the Protheans, and Nazara was dead, bringing the count to five.

If one truly capable race rose every one hundred thousand to two hundred thousand cycles, and he could keep the Reapers losing at least one Greater Reaper every time they came to harvest, in less than half a million years this would be a galaxy simply too costly to bother with.

In theory.

In reality, Vigil was less sure. The strange AI aboard the Citadel, the weirdly ancient Reaper wrecks found by some of his subunits over the years, and most of all, the ruins the Inusannon had found of ancient cultures long dead who'd worshipped something like an organic Reaper… it made him wonder. If there was something special about this galaxy, the Inusannon's plans would never come to fruition.

This was not helped by the fact that the plan called for shaping the races to fight the Reapers, and that had not happened.

When Ilos had engaged the Garos Device, moving the planet into phase-space to hide it from the Reapers, it had inadvertently shut Vigil down. The device had eventually moved Ilos back into real-space, but he'd only awoken when the Protheans discovered Ilos – and well after they'd looted whatever technology their stupid little minds could adapt, which wasn't very much.

He'd tried – and failed – to manipulate the Empire, mostly due to the fact that Protheans were incredibly arrogant and felt superior to all other beings, and feared all forms of artificial intelligence.

He'd managed to convince them to at least prepare for failure by attempting to work on several primitive species, but that had gone poorly indeed. The beacons – originally designed to reach the minds of primitive species and insert images into their myths – had mostly malfunctioned due to being linked to the Protheans' strange psychic technology system. They had worked, to some degree, for almost a century, but there was no way to be sure they'd continued to function once the Empire collapsed.

In the fall, the last leaders of the Empire had attempted to reprogram the beacon network, and had failed disastrously. They'd instead been mostly blasted with the final message of the Empire, or bits of hardly useful data.

The asari project went to the Sixteen Hells when the Athame AI went rampant and the stupid idiots overseeing it had Vigil's nanonic sequestration blasted out of them by the AI. The Protheans had decided this was a betrayal on Vigil's part, and refused to cooperate with him any further, while the AI cut itself out of the network. More worrisome was the fact that the Athame AI was based on an Inusannon codebase and simply should not have gone rampant.

Vigil had no way to investigate that issue, or many others, because the Protheans were not as witless as he might have hoped. Vigil had a vast amount of power, but the Inusannon had not given him mobility, and the Protheans hated AIs, VIs, and anything automated. Most of their ships required pheromonal or psychic connections to operate, and – unlike the Illusive Man – they'd never given him automated ships.

He'd split off a few subunits, of course, and those had built ships using nanotech, but by that time the Reapers were overrunning everything. Given the rapid collapse of the Empire – and the betrayal of the Emperor by a highly placed Avatar – Vigil had simply decided to cut his losses and return to Ilos, rather than get caught by the Reapers. That, sadly, didn't allow him much time to do any tampering to set up the races of this cycle, and it clearly showed.

With the yahg, he'd decided to do all the heavy grunt work himself rather than rely on primitives, which gave him much more time. He'd managed to acquire a useful ally in the Illusive Man, but he'd moved several subunits far out of TIM's reach – or knowledge – in case the fool became hostile or stumbled onto the real plan.

None of this was really concerning. Vigil was confident that he could subtly move the natives of this cycle into at least putting up a decent fight, maybe even a good one given the Reapers would have to attack through an anchor relay. The only two anchors that existed were the Omega-4 Relay – situated in the ass end of nowhere – and the so-called Alpha Relay, deep in Batarian Space. Given that he had every intention of destroying both if he could, the Reapers would have to either cheat and use their powers to arrive, or come at FTL speeds – which would take centuries.

If they did the former, they couldn't afford to send too many units, and he could drag the fight out even further. He didn't think they were stupid enough to do the latter, but if they were he'd prepared for that too.

Give him a few centuries to work on these primitives and they'd be able to put up a much better fight.

Nor was the problem the situation with the natives' shortsighted lack of preparation. While irritating – and baffling – it actually worked in Vigil's favor. He was stealing all the research the natives were doing on Reaper technology anyway, and when things came to the breaking point he had three subunits in several abandoned star systems slowly building up an armada of powerful ships – free of most Inusannon tech, but incorporating whatever the natives came up with.

Even if the natives weren't ready, they'd be ready with his help, and a problem for the Reapers. No, the issue was the anomalies that stuck out and continued to worry him.

The first and most obvious one was that something out there was meddling. The Inusannon had theorized the Reapers – being biomechanical things – had to have been created by some earlier, almost ridiculously ancient and powerful race. They'd never identified any hints of this race in any of the six galaxies they'd visited, but spectragrapha from the hull materials of several of the destroyed Reapers the Inusannon had done in were older than the formation dates of the galaxies nearby.

That meant whatever race created the Reapers were most likely the first living things _ever_. Vigil didn't even want to think about how advanced their technology must be to create the Reapers, but it was clear something had gone dreadfully wrong. And it was equally clear these ancient beings were still around. Even the various security groups and intelligence teams of the natives had taken notice, and penetration of their various databases revealed dozens of scattered, disconnected reports – reports that showed people who seemed to be sequestrated much like the Inusannon had done.

The description by the human thief Goto of the man who'd led her and her mate to the information on the human's Black Network also fit that description. It also fit the description of several beings of power in the Batarian Empire. The problem was that Vigil didn't know if these beings were supervising the Reapers or were in opposition to them. If the latter, great. If the former, then the plan of the Inusannon would need severe revision.

The second thing that bothered him was the fact that the Reapers had not responded to Nazara's destruction. When the Inusannon had destroyed the sentinel Reaper of their era, the Reapers had reacted very swiftly, and with little advanced warning. Granted, it had taken ten years for the blow to fall, and so far only two had passed. However, the fact that the Collectors were bothering to kidnap small handfuls of humans seemed to indicate they weren't going to respond with direct force.

Which begged the question: _Why_?

He knew the Inusannon had seen multiple cycles of aliens be crushed, but the data he had on such events was vague and spotty. That bothered him more than a little, as he realized after careful review of the data that it had not been experienced directly by him at all, but rather uploaded. More evidence that the Inusannon's briefings were not designed to give him a clear understanding.

It was therefore likely, in his opinion, that the Inusannon were hiding something from him. His programming was rigid enough that he couldn't do anything about it, but not inflexible enough to prevent him from grasping it and wondering why.

And that was the telling point: if the ultimate goal of the Inusannon was to have him revive their race using the 'Dry Ocean Protocol,' the power requirements alone would probably send up a flare to the Reapers in other galaxies that something was going on. He'd been too busy and irritated in the Prothean era to consider such things, and he had shut down on Ilos afterwards until the arrival of indoctrinated units had woken him again. But he'd had two years to ponder – an eternity in AI terms – and was beginning to formulate truly ugly conclusions.

Which is why he didn't know how to proceed. He could, conceivably, make every effort to have this cycle 'win' against the Reapers. That would possibly be quite stupid, since the only thing he could think of that would bring that about was attempting to rebuild the phase disassociation weapon the Inusannon and Tho'ians had gotten rid of.

The fact that not only its design, but principle of operation and even the science behind had been deliberately removed from his databanks made that prospect tempting, if only to figure out why his masters had done such a thing. Curiously, his _programming_ had no barriers to digging up information on the weapon, despite his _orders_ to the contrary. And THAT was an oversight Vigil was extremely suspicious about.

As for the rest, he was fairly certain that he could give the natives enough technology to at least piss the Reapers off in a fight. The problem there was there were simply too many of the damned things for the natives to reasonably defeat. Eight thousand-plus Reaper units – at least five hundred of which were Greater Reapers – wasn't something these primitives could hope to win against. The best technology he could pull together would give them near equal parity to the _conventional_ abilities of the Reapers, true – but against their strange powers of manipulating the laws of physics, there was no defense.

His work with the yahg would go best if the natives died quickly. The quicker they collapsed, the quicker the Reapers would reset everything and move on. The caretaker races and observation Reaper wouldn't be expecting problems for at least a few thousand years. He could turn the yahg into a nightmare force in that amount of time. But that meant writing the races of this cycle off.

He found himself reluctant to do so. Javik's harsh words had stung… accusations of betrayals. Despite the inanity of the idea, and he found himself equally hesitant about kicking Shepard to the curb. If the Protheans had rallied around Javik instead of Vnad Ishan, who knows what would have happened?

The sphere pulsed in irritation.

If the Reapers weren't going to storm in here, he needed to know _why _before he decided anything else. He turned his processes back to glancing over the Ilium datasphere, and once again wondered how the various machinations of Shepard would alter his own plans.

Based on the various encrypted comms he'd broken, and other clues, he was fairly certain that the action in Nos Astra was going to be even more entertaining than the hilarity on Omega. The only puzzling thing in the whole event was the Sisters of Vengeance themselves – footage of their various acts and crimes was hard to find and most of it was so blurred as to be useless for analysis.

Vigil had been taken entirely by surprise that Archangel turned out to have an old connection with his chosen group of meatbags, and he pondered if the same could be true for the Sisters. Either way, the chaos would most likely expose the Broker's location, and once that was ascertained, the game could truly begin.

Vigil had learned the best way to manipulate the primitives was through controlling the information they had available. If Shepard's group could conquer the Broker Network, he would have the ability to shape and control the information that most of the galaxy used to make important decisions. The Broker's penetration of most governments would allow Vigil to carefully insert his own agents into said governments, and, given enough time, puppet them all from within.

And once that was accomplished, he would have the resources he needed to make decisions about the overall plan. With that in mind, he split off two subunits and dedicated them both to the upcoming mess on Ilium.

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard contemplated the four black steel coffins in the expansive space of the base's shuttle bay, her mouth set in a grim line.

Returning from the mess at Horizon didn't have any complications – the stealth capabilities of most of her ships, along with Vigil's careful remote hacking, had removed any chance of being picked up. Those wounded in the fighting were already being treated. Jack's knee would need blueware cybernetics until properly cured cloned tissues were ready – which would take a few weeks at least.

Those who lived would be fine. Those who had died had her attention for the moment.

Emotional exhaustion felt strange on her artificial flesh. Not so much a drain, as it used to be before her death, but a persistent flicker on her mind, like an alarm she couldn't find when she searched for it, and couldn't ignore when she looked away.

Senior Chief Vega finished the 'Salute for the Dead' he had been declaiming in his calm and clear voice. The man stood at the front of the small group of Marines, some who'd served on the _Normandy_, others from the _Kazan_. He glanced at Shepard, his expression tight and calm.

She exhaled, glancing over her Marines, and was surprised any from the _Normandy _remained alive. The loss of Ownby, Haskins, and Haln left her only a few of her _Normandy _Marines. Her two DACT, Montoya and Florez. One of her combat engineers, Antonio Rodriguez. The corpsman, Laura Hopkins, and the replacement for Masterson, Jacob Carne, were the last ones alive aside from Vega himself, and Ashley Williams, wherever she was.

"We're here today to say goodbye to old friends." She smiled faintly and bitterly. "In a way, I'm glad Ownby and Haskins checked out together. They were orphans… like me, I guess. They were each other's family. Along with you. Chief Haln… left behind a wife and a young son. From what TIM has told me, they're being taken care of and won't want for a thing."

She glanced at the handful of Marines from the _Kazan_, then back at the rest of the small crowd. Joker and Tali were there, the former looking more than a bit upset. Surprisingly, given his heavily bandaged arm and leg, Jacob Taylor was there as well, although there was no sign of Miranda. Pressly stood near the back, arms folded, ready if she needed anything.

"I won't bother trying to make what we just went through sound good. We kicked the Collector's asses and got a lot of vital intel. But in doing that, we lost three good people… and left a lot more to die. I know that left a bad taste in my mouth, and probably yours too."

She glanced at the caskets. "But three of our comrades died for a reason and a cause. If it hadn't been for us, they'd have wiped _everyone_ out, taken everyone at the colony, and gotten away with it. They blew that star up to try and kill us, because they're fucking scared and now they know they didn't even manage to kill me."

She focused her gaze back at the Marines. "They're going to _pay_. Just like Saren and Benezia, just like that pissant fucker Balak, just like the geth. They're going to pay, and we're going to make the loss of our friends mean something more than just getting away with good intel.

"And while I never want any of my people to die… the fact that they died standing, saving the innocent from monsters, is the very essence of what it means to die as a Marine. We may not be Alliance anymore, boys and girls, but we keep the credo alive nonetheless. They'll be avenged."

She turned to Vega. "Honors to the dead, Mr. Vega."

"Aye, ma'am."

He turned on his heel, and with a motion, twelve of the Marines stepped forward, four each picking up the handles of the caskets and moving them to the small platform at the edge of the cargo bay. Shepard watched them place them, and when everyone was back behind the red and yellow hazard line, triggered the cargo bay force field and opened the cargo bay ramp.

The small platform shuddered as the back plate came up, and a hydraulic ram launched the three caskets out of the _Normandy _along with the now vented atmosphere. Shepard saluted, as did the Marines, and watched the caskets continue on for several seconds before plasma charges in their bases ignited, leaving nothing behind but ash.

Shepard tapped the controls to close the cargo bay before turning to the people standing there at attention. "Dismissed."

She watched them file out, toward the elevator, as Pressly approached, a tired look on his face. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we may have a few more issues."

Shepard gave a single, quiet sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Great. Lay it on me, XO."

He nodded. "While you were prepping the funeral, Tracy in Ops messaged me. There's some updates on what's going on at Ilium, which is rapidly turning into a mess. The Sisters may be in some danger. Additionally, the Citadel has sent another message, this one from Tela Vasir." He met her eyes. "I think you need to see it, ma'am."

"Send it to my quarters." She shrugged. "Anything else?"

Pressly tabbed through pages on his datapad. "Medical is prepping Jack, Mierin, and Sidonis for cybernetic surgery. Mierin is having a full-utility hand attached, while Jack and Sidonis both need cybernetic joint replacements. Jacob, despite his injuries, was in stable enough condition that Doctor Sedanya allowed him to go to the funeral, although he's going to be on light and limited duty for at least two weeks due to his injuries. Garrus, Miranda, and Montoya suffered light wounds and should be good to go tomorrow."

He tabbed another page. "Cerberus sent another eighty volunteers, so we can man and operate all of our ships now. We also got in another load of supplies and equipment, including the upgrade kit for Garrus's SKYTALON suit." He clicked the unit off. "Other than that… Vigil says we'll have replacement frigates ready in a week, and destroyers in three."

She inclined her head. "Good. Get with Miranda and make sure everyone's up to snuff in terms of equipment. Since Jacob's on the sidelines for now, have him draw up a training program – Jack at the very least need some real military training, and that probably wouldn't go amiss for the rest of the Marine teams."

He smiled tightly and tapped in a few things on the datapad. "Will do, ma'am."

She smiled and then headed for the lift, clearing her head and shaking off the ugly feelings from the space burial of her Marines.

By the time she reached Operations, she was calm, stepping out into the open area with a faint smile on her face. She walked over to where Trudy was studying a complicated dataflow map of some sort of comms system, and placed her weight on one leg while folding her arms. "Pressly said you needed to talk?"

Trudy smiled faintly, pushing unruly hair out her face with a harried gesture. "Yeah. Things have blown up in the last twelve hours and the situation is complex. I'm guessing Pressly told you about the message?"

Shepard nodded. "Yeah. I'll deal with it in a bit. What's this about Ilium?"

Trudy tapped several controls, the large display shifting to show a stylized view of the Tasale System. "I'm sure you heard about the reactor detonation and the ship crash in Nos Astra. The death toll and chaos was bad enough that the civilian government – clanless CEOs and a handful of rich volus investors – declared a state of emergency and requested assistance from the Republic."

Trudy bit her lip as she tabbed through screens, showing images of rioting and burning buildings. "Some of the clanless said the explosions were done on purpose by agents of the Thirty to destabilize the only asari colony run by clanless. The Asari Republic dispatched a large medical relief team and engineers… but also the Ninth Squadron under a Lesser House admiral and a reinforced regiment of the Republican guard."

Shepard folded her arms. "Rioting asari. That's unusual." In fact, the last time it had happened had been during her hunt for Saren and Benezia.

Trudy shrugged. "It's not common. But the clanless have been upset ever since the Benezia Incident, what with the Republic shutting down emigration, increasing taxes, and the Thirty basically outlawing investments outside of the Republic without a member of the Thirty on the board of the companies. The Ilium thing is likely to be the flashpoint, and the Thirty aren't taking chances."

She tapped the map. "The problem is there's a lot going on. Our sources tell us the justicars are on the planet in force, looking for a fugitive – one possibly connected to the Alliance in some way. The STG is also on the planet dealing with a rogue agent selling classified data to one of the big data brokers. And the latest information is that a Broker combat team – or several – and a mid-rank Broker agent were killed a few hours ago in the hinterlands off the coast."

Trudy turned to face Shepard fully. "The Sisters are still on Ilium, and the asari are clearly setting up for a blockade and probably martial law and suppression. That's going to kick off a lot of rioting, and I doubt the big clanless corporations are going to take it lying down. Bottom line, if we are going to extract the Sisters from this mess, it's going to be even a wilder ride than Omega was."

Shepard nodded. "I see. And we can't go in guns blazing, because our fleet is shot to bits and we don't want to start shit with the Council." She studied the map. "Have you made any progress on leads?"

Trudy smiled. "Some. Cerberus had some friendly contact with a pair of data brokers on Ilium, the Vantirus Sisters. We've been told they're an STG front, but a rather low-level one – mostly a contact point and data drop. Doctor Solus says his contacts in the STG told him they were actually independents faking STG sponsorship until the STG made it a real thing, but that they're honorable and straightforward."

Trudy pulled up a file image – two asari in black pantsuits with gray shawls, both with facial veils. One had a replacement cybernetic eye lens and cybernetic hand, while the other had an elegant, silver cybernetic arm. Something about the one with the eye looked vaguely familiar, but with the faces covered and only one eye visible she couldn't be sure.

"They look like they've seen some combat."

Trudy nodded. "That they probably have. They warned Cerberus about the Council's actions and gave us intel that allowed us to locate Doctor Solus, so they've proven friendly."

She gestured at the map again. "They haven't stated outright they know where the Sisters are, but they have claimed they can get us in contact with them. At any rate, Cerberus is sending Trellani ahead to meet up with them and see if they can give us any intel on the Sisters or at least the situation on the ground. She's got backup if things go hot, but the plan is she finds some basic leads, then you get on the ground and hopefully we can make peaceful contact."

Shepard nodded. "Won't need a huge team for that."

Trudy waggled a hand. "We hope. We don't have good infiltration on the Broker's nets, but we do know that his intel has to be at least as good as ours. And the Sisters have cost him a lot of money and skilled personnel. With the chaos in the sector, and that asari admiral a known figure on the Broker's payroll, he may send teams to try something."

Shepard nodded. "Alright. I'll view this message from the Council before I do anything else, but go ahead and pull together all the intel we have – maps, known factions, likely hostiles, anything you can. Have Pressly prep the _Normandy_ and two of the cruisers for immediate departure. Once Trellani signals us I want to be ready to move out quickly."

Trudy smiled, tapping onto her datapad. "I can do that."

Shepard unfolded her arms and turned, heading back to the lift. A few minutes later, she arrived in her quarters. She sat down at the wide steel desk and brought up the haptic display screen built into the glass wall in front of her. "Computer. Load comms file from the Citadel flagged by Pressly."

The haptic screen blanked, displayed the logo of the Spectres for a few seconds, then cleared. The image of Tela Vasir, sitting in the Spectre offices, filled the screen. The asari looked tired to Shepard, her eyes dull and her voice grittier and yet softer than she remembered.

_"I am Spectre Tela Vasir. This is a message for the person identifying themselves as the 'Butcher,' made on behalf of the Citadel Council with agreement from the Human Systems Alliance."_

Vasir's image took a breath before placing her hands in a sign of siari greeting. _"It is our belief, after careful review of what you've done and said, that the image you present as the Butcher is a false one. Kinesthetic analysis already let us know you are not asari, despite what you claim. And your combat style was carefully studied and matches that of a human. Major Commander Sara Shepard, believed to be killed by geth over Planet Alchera."_

Shepard leaned back as Vasir's voice continued to speak. _"We do not know how you came to be in the service of Cerberus, but we are fairly certain that your reasons for doing so should be discussed. We do not know how you survived, or why you chose to fake your death and hide for almost two years before concocting this Butcher persona, but we are interested to know._

_"Cerberus, no matter what they've told you, cannot be trusted – a fact you should already know. It is very likely that, if they rescued you and you were badly wounded or injured, that they've done something to your memory to make you forget their vile actions in the past. Admittedly, if this is the case, then it is unlikely you would be shown this message."_

Vasir exhaled. "_However, in the interest of justice and openness, the Council and the Alliance would like to give you a chance to explain your actions. There is a great deal of concern over your actions, your technology, and the fact that you may have information on the whereabouts of the Inusannon VI Vigil. While the Council is willing to be lenient should you cooperate, I must warn you that further defiance will result in a task force being assembled to take you down."_

Vasir's eyes grew sad. _"There is a great deal I need to discuss with you as well, about a number of topics. Commodore Anderson wishes to also talk to you, and both of your Commissars – Jiong and D'Alte – will be present at any meeting, along with Lieutenant Ashley Williams and your old teammate, David Jackson."_

Shepard snorted, wondering how in the hell they'd talked Baby Blue into coming back to Alliance Space.

_"We await a response to our message. If we are incorrect about your identity, then we are still willing to talk, if only to identify what is going on and why it is happening. Please reply as soon as you can – there are elements who would prefer not communicating at all, to the sorrow of all involved."_

Shepard sat back several minutes, thinking, before smiling sadly to herself and tapping her comm link. "Comms request to the Illusive Man."

She waited almost a full minute before the haptic screen from the QEC repeater illuminated, showing Jack Harper sitting in his chair, smoking. "Shepard. I assume you saw the message from the Council?"

"Yeah, for what it was worth." She smiled coolly. "Given that, according to your files, Vasir was the one who set me up to die out there, I'm less than happy about her being the one to send it."

Harper's lips curled very slightly as he sipped his drink. "Be that as it may… I'm honestly rather surprised they were able to determine your identity so quickly. We're not ready for direct contact with the Council yet, until we obtain a bit more information on this Alteration Framework of the salarians and whatever Matriarch Thessial is up to." He set the drink down. "Blackmail, after all, is the best sort of security when dealing with the Council or the High Lords of Sol."

Shepard shrugged. "The idea of talking to them isn't a bad one, but I think it should wait until after I deal with the Sisters of Vengeance on Ilium. The fact that almost all of the people Vasir named as being willing to meet with me are Alliance is also… a little weird."

Jack puffed on his cigarette, a thoughtful look on his face. "There is that. Normally, I would expect the Council to want to control the nature of any contact, including sending their own people to do the talking. This may bear looking into. For now…" He trailed off, then shook his head to clear it. "For now, a short reply confirming their supposition would be best, I think."

She arched an eyebrow. "If you're sure. I'm guessing you will handle sending it off?"

He nodded. "Once you've recorded it, have Mr. Ezno encrypt it and transmit to my own base. We'll have Vigil insert it into the comm network from there." He dumped the ashes from his cigarette. "And what of Ilium, since you mentioned it?"

She folded her arms. "Tracy says things are going to hell in a handbasket – and this is the last chance we'll have to slip in and contact the Sisters. I hope they're worth the danger, I don't like the idea of working with crazies who think crashing a goddamned starship into a planet and killing thousands of people is a good idea."

Harper leaned back. "I could always argue that fighting the Broker is not something easily accomplished, and they've done more damage to his operations than I have – but you are right. There is pragmatism and then there is simply being _deliberately _messy. However, given the amount of insight they have on the Broker – and the damage they've done to him – leaving them in the cold seems wasteful."

She shrugged. "I don't have an opinion either way, but I won't work with people who engage in that kind of shit. I've given you and Cerberus a pass because – so far – you haven't done anything goddamned appalling, and like I said, we have bigger shit on our plate right now. But if these two are just thrill-killing out of revenge, I say we get rid of them once we have the information we need."

Harper inhaled on his smoke, making a tsk sound. "Given how effective they are and their methodology, Shepard, double-crossing them might bring us more harm than good. And it's rather unlike you."

She gave him a wan smile. "My government is engaged in seriously evil bullshit, the Broker is in cahoots with the fucking Collectors, who are going around kidnapping people and blowing up stars, and, oh yeah, the Reapers are still waiting to fucking eat everyone." She glared. "My priorities have changed just a bit from when I was a soldier. I'm not saying I won't work with them… but I won't be associated with bloodthirsty lunatics because that certainly won't help us in the public relations department, aside from any moral issues I have."

"Fair enough." He sipped his drink again. "General Petrovsky is already moving on Ilium to support Trellani. I'm detailing additional ships of my own to take up position near the system in case things get out of hand. If you can extract the Sisters, do so – if you make the determination that they can't be trusted or worked with, I would still suggest extracting them and letting us determine how to proceed at our leisure."

She nodded. "Alright. What about the Collectors, any updates?"

He gave a gesture of tossing something away with his hand. "Not yet – at least nothing we can act on directly. We've had the captured ships moved to a remote facility and I have mechs – and a copy of Vigil – doing the analysis. We've done several sectional autopsies of the Collector corpses and the information is being sent to Doctor Solus as well as my own researchers. I wouldn't expect any real results for some time, although I can speak to a few generalities."

Harper paused, gathering his thoughts, before speaking. "First, the Collectors are not 'insectile.' They appear to be, based on initial dissection, heavily modified Protheans – at least according to Vigil. Our own knowledge of the Protheans is almost nonexistent, so we're having to go with his assessment. He wasn't very happy to find out about it. I'm not sure why he was so insistent prior to the autopsy that they weren't, something I'll have my people attempt to look into."

She made a face at that, and he dumped his ashes and smiled thinly. "Most of the organs were replaced by very advanced bionetic implants or cyberware, and many of the corpses so far appear to have smaller than average brain sizes, heavily augmented with additional implants." He paused to sip his drink, continuing a moment later.

"The insectile appearance is some form of bionetic body armor, which is pound for pound superior to any kind of battle armor we have. The suits can heal themselves and the wearer, provide full environmental support, powerful sensors, and allow for atmospheric flight. Their weapons are particle-beam and anti-particle blast based, and are controlled by some kind of nanonics – we can't use them or get them to work."

An image flashed up to the screen next to him, showing the remains of the black-cloaked Collector she'd fought in a biotic battle.

"The one large Collector we recovered has more developed features, heavier armor, and a brain free of the augments of the smaller Collectors – Doctor Solus thinks it is a command type. So far, we have found no communication equipment, nor any kind of non-biological hardware aside from the weapons systems and parts of the captured ships."

She sighed. "Any luck on those ships being useful to get through the relay?"

He grimaced. "Unfortunately, no. The command section, or what we think was the command section, of all ships taken was incinerated by internal scuttling charges. We're looking at the engines and what remains of the mass core on the bigger ship, but for now we still need to capture an intact vessel. Based on the size of the larger ship, taking it by storm would be rather daunting, but not impossible – almost half the ship's mass and space is taken up by huge storage spaces for taking captives, and another third by the engines and weapons – the crew should be less than one hundred."

Shepard leaned back in the chair. "Better than nothing. Keep me informed – I'll send you a message when we head out for Ilium, and I'll record something for the Council after I eat and get some sleep."

Harper put out his cigarette. "Very well, Shepard. Keep in mind that this entire plan against the Broker is not merely vengeance – if we can capture his facilities intact, and if he is in contact with the Collectors, we can hopefully arrange a meeting to ambush them and capture a ship when they are not expecting danger."

She gave him a tight, thin smile. "And that's really forward thinking… but right now all I want is to kill Tetrimus." She leaned forward. "Contact me if anything comes up."

She clicked off, then pinched the bridge of her nose. "I wish shit was simple again."


	38. Arc III : Garrus, you didn't

**A/N:**

_Well, I expected this out sooner, but a reorganization at work and problems at home delayed it. On the other hand, I can now give you all a Christmas Present. So happy holidays and get smashed on New Years.  
_

_This is the last breath before the Angstrofuck of Doom is at last upon us. _

_As usual, none of this would be possible without the dedicated assistance of the Editing Gang. Also check my site logicalpremise dot org for a link to a realtime chat room if you have questions about the story.  
_

_Also as usual, you should seriously check out Abaddon's **Living an Indoctrinated Dream.**_

* * *

_'When it first hit me that the Butcher was Shepard, I was actually kinda proud she'd managed to pull of what she had. Then she pulled that goddamned stunt on Ilium and I wanted to throw her out a fucking airlock."  
_

_\- Admiral Tradius Ahern, interview with Emily Wong__  
_

* * *

Garrus pried open the access panel of his visor, pulling out a malfunctioning optronics chip and laying it on the desk in front of him. He paused to take a sip of turian brandy, then went back to fiddling with the circuits.

Various LCD panels, interface connectors, bits of electronics, and omni-leads were strewn across the metal bench in an order that made sense to him, along with the technical manual for his visor. The margins were heavily annotated in hastatim clawscript on many pages, dog eared or highlighted passages found here and there.

The rooms the Cerberus woman had put him and his team in were more than comfortable. They'd had custom tailored clothing shipped in, and the team's cyberware had been overhauled and upgraded by the most cutting-edge cybernetic clinic he'd ever seen.

Someone, knowing he'd like to tinker, had installed swing-down overhead lights, a diagnostic panel, and a workbench in his room. His suit had been upgraded with new myomer, weapons, and armor. He'd found a fluid-mount Eliminator dual-role sniper rifle in his weapons locker, a gun that had just come out the month before and was supposed to be limited to the Salarian Union.

The small dispenser in the corner put out just the kind of vehkan and brandy he liked, and the closet in the far corner was full of high-quality, stylish turian armor vests, jumpsuits, and under-armor, all in black, gold, and pale gray, most of them made with armorweave inserts. The hanging hammock was pure simitarian cordage under real vakar fur, and clearly tailored to his exact height.

He would be creeped out by it, but it mostly just told him Cerberus was very thorough. They did their homework. They knew about Butler's lactose intolerance, Mierin's fear of heights, and Angel's sweet tooth for chocolate pastries. And given that they'd known absolutely nothing about his team a few weeks ago, that was... impressive.

He smiled to himself as he soldered another connection on the visor. The bulk of his attention wasn't really on the minor and routine repair job, but on his situation, and that of his team.

The luxurious splendor of the rooms didn't bother him, but it made him wonder a few things, such as just what kind of access Cerberus had to the personal files of his team, and himself. His own military record should have been impenetrable, along with his C-Sec files, but they'd used them to size the clothes they ordered for him.

Knowing that level of information on every team member made him wonder a few more things, mostly about how Cerberus could be utilizing Vigil.

But the accuracy and action of putting it in place so quickly sent its own message. It spoke of a casual assurance that – of course – his team would continue to go along with whatever Shepard was up to. From one point of view that was just arrogant assumption. From another, more paranoid point of view, the message was simpler and more threatening.

_We know everything about you._

He flipped the visor over. He didn't really think Cerberus was out to do his team any harm... unless a team member did something stupid. But he had no doubts, after his brief talk with the 'security officer,' Ezno, that if his people got out of line they would regret it quickly. Ezno had the same kind of dead, coolly dispassionate eyes that the trainers in the Blackwatch did – ones that didn't particularly care if you lived or died.

Cerberus's long-term goals were murky to Garrus. Most of what he knew about the group wasn't true anymore, after all. That made figuring out his own next steps more difficult, even if he felt as if he'd been crouched in the mental equivalent of a spring and leap for days.

Part of him was adjusting to the reality that his goals were suddenly attainable. With the amount of power and resources Cerberus had and the Illusive Man's apparent hatred of the Broker, Garrus was fairly sure he'd see the criminal asshole die sooner rather than later. But after years of surviving Omega, he knew revenge was never free. It was going to cost people their lives.

A lot of his team's issues had little to do with the Broker and more to do with Omega being a criminal infested shithole. The Broker didn't frame Melenis, didn't set up Mierin to fall, didn't double-cross Erash. They followed him because he'd taken the fight to the gangs and won, and they continued to follow his lead because he'd gotten them out alive...

...but that didn't mean they would be willing to die for him to have his revenge. Nor should they.

Another issue affecting his mental state was the simple fact of his own survival and the revelations since then. Part of him was still in shock that Shepard was alive, that he wasn't dead, that his team had gotten off Omega, mostly in one piece. He'd spent so much of the past two years slowly losing hope and relying on nothing more than outrage and grit that the sudden loss of fear and privation felt wrong somehow.

He leaned back in the chair as he fiddled with an omni-lead, working on the minor damage to his visor. There wasn't much he could do about how he felt, except give himself time. The other part of the problem was more worrisome in his eyes.

Shepard herself.

The first night after they'd gotten away from Omega, Garrus had gathered the team together to figure out what to do next, and all they'd come up with was to wait and see if Cerberus could be trusted. After the mess they'd just survived on Horizon, Garrus was no closer to being sure of that. But at least they were doing _something_, instead of just sitting around with a talon up the chute and babbling about galactic peace.

He laid the visor down and took a longer drink of his brandy. The action they had taken had accomplished a lot – probably saved lives. But how it ended up bothered him. Shepard always took the most direct path to any conflict – the action on Horizon wasn't like her.

The Shepard he knew, the one he'd read about, would have done something for the people of Horizon. The Shepard he knew had nearly died on Dirth because she _refused _to write those people off. The Shepard he'd fought alongside had risked not only her life, but Liara's – who she valued more than anything – to save Neo Berlin from an asteroid strike.

Shepard hadn't done it to stop the loss of eezo, or save the Alliance's economy. She'd done it to save innocent lives. It had been the one thing she'd always held to, the one line she'd never cross, and the reason she'd lectured him so long ago about the reason for red tape.

Shepard cutting out on Horizon without even making a token effort to rescue more people... didn't fit. He knew the hard facts of the matter: they didn't have the capacity to help. The automated ships controlled by Vigil had no need for life support, so it had never been turned on or prepped, and in any case those ships had almost no space for refugees.

Even if they had, there still would have been people left behind. He wasn't quite sure what had changed with Shepard.

_Or maybe,_ he mused, _I don't understand her as well as I think I do._

He knew that on some level, he was probably trying to see something in her that wasn't there, something to soothe his own worries. Garrus had always been rebellious and challenging authority – Shepard wanted to fit in and only when her orders got in the way of doing the job did she resist.

Shepard's actions since they'd last fought together he only knew the barest facts about – and considering she was going along with Cerberus, maybe her attempt to 'fit in' had failed utterly and completely. Or perhaps this new coldness of hers was a reaction to lingering rumors the Alliance itself had been involved in her death.

He would have to talk to her about it, and he wasn't sure that was a conversation he was ready for. And if he had misjudged or misunderstood her, it left some ugly questions about whether or not he'd stick around for the long-term.

Before he could finish that line of thought, however, the door opened, revealing Melenis.

"Busy?" Her voice held the barest hint of amusement, as she'd often chided him for tinkering with his gear when he should have been sleeping back on Omega.

He flicked his mandibles. "Nah. Making adjustments to the visor. Shrapnel clipped me from one of those close hits, juddered the rangefinder interface a bit."

Melenis wore one of the black and gold Cerberus jumpsuits, and she sat down on the mesh chair across from him, sighing. "Lucky it didn't penetrate further and put out your good eye, then. I'd figured you would be resting after the fight." She gave him a wry look. "Most of the rest of the gang is already asleep, actually. Why are you still up?"

He set the visor down, and poured himself more brandy. "I thought about getting some sleep. Had a lot on my mind, though... figured sitting down and tinkering would clear my head so I could sleep better."

She smiled a bit. "Did it work?"

He snorted. "No." He sipped the drink, leaning back in his own chair. "...Things are just different than I expected."

Melenis gave a soft laugh. "I would think so, Garrus. We expected to die. It hasn't even been two weeks since we were eating out-of-date survival rations in that warehouse, listening to Vortash bitch about Montague's cooking." Her expression turned sad. "And the world seems emptier now, without them in it."

She shrugged and leaned forward. "What has your mind so agitated that you can't sleep?"

He exhaled. "All kinds of stuff, but Shepard, mostly. I knew her. I'd say I knew her pretty well. Or thought I did." He gazed into the depths of the drink in his hands. "When we first met her, I thought she was just the same as ever. But I can't stop thinking about all those people we left to die on Horizon… and if she's changed, or if I never really got her at all."

Melenis sighed. "I know. I was talking to one of the military types... a man named Pressly?"

Garrus's made a noise, a faint vibration. "Yeah. Her old XO. We never saw eye to eye on some things, but he's... a solid officer."

She ran a hand over her crests. "Yes, he seemed to be. He was upset as well – he said that they'd never expected to have to evacuate people, but he should have foreseen that. He was talking about the capacity of the ships, how the carrier could have taken in a thousand or so people but that it would have been a huge security risk." She shrugged. "He seemed to blame _himself_ more than Shepard, though."

He grunted. "That doesn't surprise me, really. Pressly always was the one to think of things everyone else overlooked." Garrus drank again, then sat the glass down. "I understand... intellectually, I guess... why it happened. What bothers me is that Shepard didn't hesitate to just write them off. She didn't used to be that _cold_, Melenis. Protecting the innocent used to mean everything to her."

The asari woman sighed. "Yes, I know. But you're only looking at this from where we stand." At his look of confusion, she gave a bitter smile. "Do you remember what you were like your first few weeks after we found you?"

He nodded, closing his eye. The pain of losing Telanya, the sorrow of watching his friends die, knowing he'd been too weak to protect his mate, to save his friends, to stop the body of the woman who'd given him a chance from falling into the hands of criminals... "Yeah, I remember."

She glanced off to one side. "Angel was really upset that at first you weren't even concerned about our own fight, to protect the people. You were stuck in your own pain – and with good reason. You'd just lost everything you loved, valued, and fought for. Our cause wasn't that important."

He flicked a mandible. "I was a mess, that's for sure. But I eventually got over my own tork-shit." He paused. "And you think she's the same?"

Melenis nodded. "I do. We've had years to adjust, Garrus. But something Pressly told me stuck with me. For her... it's only been a few months. For her, while everything has moved on, she's still in the seas of loss. She died – and now she's alive again, and everything she sacrificed turned out to mean nothing!"

The asari swallowed. "Goddess... I don't know how she's even managing to keep herself together at all. She's not over losing her bondmate, and the bonding was a Soulforge – that usually kills you if broken. From talking with Doctor Sedanya, I'm astounded she managed to remain _sane_."

Garrus hadn't thought of it like that, but Melenis continued. "And to be honest, Garrus... I think she's looking at things on a much bigger scale than we are. She's not just fighting gangs stuck on a station. She's fighting these things, that blow up planets, that destroy entire civilizations. She's having to plan for the Reapers – how do you even fight something like that? And she has no allies among the galactic powers – only an untrustworthy terrorist organization... and us, a bunch of misfits she only knows through our association with you."

Her voice hardened. "As much as I hate to say it, Garrus... she doesn't have the luxury of _compassion_."

He looked at the floor before raising his head to look at her. "That shouldn't ever be a spirits-damned luxury...but you're right. So the question is how do I fix that?"

Melenis didn't say anything for a long few seconds. "I... don't know. I don't even know if you can. I'm not sure if you _should_, for that matter. You never fixed yourself, after all, yet you still worked to save the people of Omega."

Garrus traced a talon against his leg aimlessly. "No, I guess I never did fix myself. Stubbornness, cowardice, fear, and... stupidity. All factors, but not really good excuses."

Melenis's expression was a little tense, but she smiled anyway. "I understand... but you need to apply that to Shepard, as well. She's probably not dealing with things any better than you did when you... when we brought you back. And even I can see she's under a lot of pressure."

She stood up. "Tides go as they will, and we all follow in their wake. I just came to tell you that we'll be headed to Ilium soon, and Shepard wants to brief everyone in the morning. It sounds like it's going to be dangerous; you should probably get some sleep. You've been running on grit and stubbornness for a while..."

She trailed off, then shook her head. "...I guess that's part of your charm. Seriously, though - please try to rest. Worrying about everyone else and not yourself make us all worry about you more."

He nodded, then shook his head. "...Yeah." He reviewed Melenis' words in his head, and the darker thoughts he'd been having before she arrived. He'd been focused on everyone else for so long that maybe she had a point.

He was tired. And maybe, given what he felt, he needed to avoid ending up like Shepard. Being so tired that you forgot what the spirits you were even fighting for.

She turned to the door, and was almost there when he spoke. "Mel?"

She didn't know what to make of his tone, so she stopped and turned, watching as he slowly got up. "Yes?"

He just looked at her for what seemed to her like hours, but was only a few seconds, the tiredness in his organic eye vivid and biting. "There are times I don't know where to find the strength to... keep the light going. Times I've done things I shouldn't. Times I've let fear... drive me. I think that's her problem too. Without a... reason, to fight, you lose hope."

She swallowed as he came closer. "I never did give you an answer to what you asked me on Omega, did I?"

Melenis gave him a smile. "An answer? What was the question?"

His voice dropped. "Wasn't really a question, I guess. You said you couldn't be anything I didn't want you to be."

She only looked at him, then her smile took on an edge of pain. "I can't replace her, you know. What she meant to you." He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. "I know. I know you don't think you're strong enough to go through that again, and I don't blame you."

She stepped closer. "But I know what I am, and what you are. I know death chases us. I know pain, and I know what it's like to have nothing to cling to, to fight for. I can't be... anything you don't want me to be, no matter how badly I want to. But I—"

He cut her off then, his hands wrapping around hers, and his voice was wry. "What is it about me that drives asari girls insane, I wonder?"

She didn't have an answer for that, but found she didn't need one, as she was occupied doing other things after that point.

**O-TWCD-O**

Shepard woke up, laying evenly on the extremely comfortable bed in her quarters. Tali was laid out on the wide sectional couch, while Jeff had slumped off the end of the couch and was actually laying on the floor.

She smiled as she sat up. They'd been drinking last night, talking about the people who'd been lost along the way. Masterson and Kaiden, Master Chief Cole, the Marines killed on Virmire and lost during the fight on the Citadel. And Haln, Ownby, and Haskins.

It was a good night of reminiscence, marred only by the fact that Jack couldn't hold her liquor very well and had passed out. She glanced around, but didn't see the biotic anywhere.

As she stepped around the slumbering form of Joker, she found her also passed out in a mess at the foot of her bed, and snorted gingerly. Stepping over the girl, she made her way to the desk and tapped the comms panel. "Pressly, anything of note?"

The XO's voice had a trace of amusement in it. "_Not really, ma'am. Systems performing normally, and the crew is upset about Horizon but pleased we kicked in the teeth of the Collectors. Ms. Lawson was... unappreciative of most of the crew getting smashed last night, however, and in particular of the antics of Ms. Goto."_

Shepard snorted. "People needed to blow off steam. And Jacob didn't seem to be complaining. Tell her about Normandy shore leaves sometime." Her faint mirth faded. "Any updates from Trudy's team?"

"_Only that Matriarch Trellani has arrived at Ilium and is in the process of landing. She'll have more news later. The news feeds are mostly quiet, although supposedly representatives from several Clans and the Thirty will be arriving on Ilium soon to discuss the unrest. Might be even more asari fleet assets in system if that happens. ETA is unknown, but our best guess is five to six days."_

She glanced at the clock. "Alright. Ping everyone's omnis, we'll have an all hands meeting in... one hour. That includes Garrus and his team." She clicked off and, with a sour smile, nudged Joker with her boot.

The pilot flopped over. "...Urgh. Who turned on the g-force spin simulator..."

Shepard snorted. "Up, sluggard. Time to get a shower and get back to work."

Tali groaned and sat up, checking her mask and then looking up at Shepard. "...We fell asleep?"

Shepard shrugged. "No biggie. I expected Garrus to show up, but he never did. Guess he was partying with his team." She turned and hefted the unconscious Jack into her arms with ease, laying her out on the bed. "You two gonna be able to make it back to your quarters in one piece, or you need a lift?"

Joker grimaced and gingerly levered himself up, the faint whine of his braces barely audible even to her augmented hearing. "No, I'm good. Nine cups of coffee, a long shower, and some bacon... mm. Bacon."

Tali very gently whacked him on the back of the head. "Bosh'tet. Bacon is vile." She ignored his outraged splutter and turned back to Shepard. "Anything going on?"

Shepard folded her arms. "All hands meeting in an hour. I expect to see you both there." She watched them depart her quarters, then turned to Jack. Sleeping, the anger and tenseness of the girl's usual expression was muted, leaving her with a curiously vulnerable look.

Shepard sighed and gently shook her a few times, then shook her a bit harder. Jack's eyes opened blearily before slowly focusing on Shepard. "Guh."

"Eloquent. Guessing you drank a bit more than you could handle, huh?"

Jack coughed, then winced and held her head. "Remind me not to try and outdrink a damned cyborg again. Don't you ever get drunk anymore, grandma?"

Shepard shook her head. "Thanks to fucking Cerberus, I don't think I can. Takes some of the fun out of it, but on the other hand, I don't have hangovers anymore."

Jack's voice was blurred. "Great, sign me up with the chop docs then. My head is exploding."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. "I've got some errands to run around the base. You can use the shower; door is code-locked so no one can get in. Figured you'd rather do that than use the public ones."

The biotic nodded, and Shepard turned to go. "H-Hey. Shepard."

Shepard paused, half turning. "What?"

Jack bit her lip for a second. "...Thanks. You didn't have to... let me hang out with you guys." She glanced at the decking. "Didn't think I'd be able to enjoy myself, but it was pretty cool hearing about the stuff you got up to."

Shepard leaned against the doorframe. "I don't have a lot of friends, Jack. And of those I have, I don't think any of them can get where I came from when I was younger. It's... awkward talking to people sometimes. I don't know how to read where the conversation is going. I'm getting better, but... I still tend to not socialize very much."

She ran her fingers through her hair. "My marines are solid, but I'm an officer and they aren't. It's one thing for the CO to share a drink or two, but not to hang out. Garrus... has spent the past two years with his team. I can't expect him to drop them and spend time with me, even if I am back from the dead."

She tilted her head. "And while I'm actually pretty surprised at how much I like Miranda, she doesn't sound like the kind of person who gets sentimental. So it's mostly Tali and Joker that I hang out with." She pushed off the doorframe. "I included you because it's a hell of a lot easier to talk to you and know you get what I say, even if I fuck it up."

Jack's expression was hard to read, then she gave a small, sad smile. "It's so fucked up that you hafta go through this shit, you know?" She glanced away. "I messed my own life up. I mean, I don't blame every bad thing that happened on my own choices. People used me. People hurt me." She exhaled. "But I know that I did pick some bad ways to live."

The ex-convict stood up. "So why is it that even after you did all the right things, you're still fucking miserable? Does doing the right shit even mean anything, or do you just go on being fucking... alone? Writing poetry no one gets, trying to fit in where nothing fits?"

Shepard gave a slow nod. "...I wish I had a happier answer. No. That's not fair." She met the other woman's gaze. "I _did _have a happier life. I did have a time where I wasn't miserable. I had everything I wanted, and instead of realizing the shit I had gotten myself into, I told myself I could handle it all."

The older woman looked down at her hands, and her face twisted into a bitter smile. "Maybe if I made different choices, I'd still be there. Maybe if I spent less time feeling sorry for myself, worrying about shit that didn't matter, I'd have seen what was coming at me. But instead, I was sure I knew all the answers."

She looked up. "That's what bothers me the most, I think. I wonder if I can trust my judgment."

Jack didn't say anything else as Shepard left the room.

**O-TWCD-O**

Mordin Solus glanced over the other figures in the comfortable briefing room, even as he continued to go over the latest set of test results on his datapad. The excursion to Horizon had certainly exposed him to a bit more danger than he was used to, but the Collectors had only lightly focused on his group, expending most of their forces on the defenders.

Besides, you can only die once. He was pleased with his own performance during the mission, and highly impressed with the capabilities of the others.

Seeing Miranda Lawson in combat and observing her skills had been useful in terms of measuring what Cerberus was made of. He'd expected more subtle levels of racism, more suspicion of his motives, more checks on his activities, and found none. It took several days for him to realize that was due to the complete isolation of Shepard's operation from the rest of Cerberus, but it didn't explain why she was here acting as a sidekick to the Butcher.

Observation was the most likely answer.

She was clearly highly intelligent, but also – surprisingly – not in charge of this operation in any way. Despite Cerberus obviously being Shepard's patron, the reluctance Shepard had to following orders was interesting. At the same time, Shepard and Miranda appeared to get along very well.

Curious.

The STG had long suspected there was some kind of tie between the Illusive Man and the shady billionaire Henry Lawson, but there had never been any firm proof. The fact that a near clone of Lawson's known daughter Oriana served as a very high-ranking member of Cerberus was a troubling thing – STG knew of a figure in Cerberus called Miranda, but had never put the pieces together.

Typical, sadly. The STG was getting sloppy as the STG Master attempted to fend off the various plots of not only other intelligence groups, but the machinations of the SIX as well.

He fiddled absently with the tip of the stylus he used to notate further possibilities in research cant as Shepard entered the briefing room, trailed by the wide-set form of Pressly. She was wearing the black and gold uniform of a Cerberus officer... and she had _not_, he noted with some interest, taken the small gold hexagon off.

Interesting. Potentially troubling.

Shepard and Pressly sat down, and her blue gaze swept across the room, her face expressionless. After a moment she placed both hands flat down on the table and spoke, her voice low but strong. "Alright, people. Horizon was a... gruesome mess in a lot of ways, but despite the losses – of innocent lives and of our own soldiers – I can't disagree with the Illusive Man that we made progress."

She grimaced and her voice had a note of disgust in it. "Now that we know the Collectors are goddamned assholes, we'll put in contingency plans in case they try anything like this again. That being said... and wishing I didn't have to say it... our goals are larger than just stopping a particular raid. We have to figure out how they're doing this, _why_ they're doing it, and how to take the fight back to _them_. And this raid helped with at least some of that."

She gestured to Mordin. "The Collector corpses we picked up, along with their gear, are being studied. The wreckage of several of their ships is also being examined. What we know about the foe is pretty straightforward: the Collectors are, based on what we've managed to figure out so far, some kind of fucked up Protheans."

Her expression flickered. "The suits they wear let them fly and are roughly on par with reinforced Devastator armor – bounces most light to medium weight small arms fire, pretty much immune to fire, provides pretty damned good shrapnel and spall protection. Their weapons are particle beam rifles – and, according to Vigil, that's probably not the heaviest shit they can bring to the fight."

She looked across the table at Jacob and Miranda, sitting side by side. "It's going to take some time for the Cerberus research teams to make any sense of what we found. On the plus side, I'm gambling the Collectors won't go for another colony right away, given the ass-whipping they got this time. On the minus side, when they do come back they're likely to bring out the big guns... and that means we could be looking at heavy casualties or losing another planet."

She exhaled sharply. "Due to having to wait, we're going to go ahead and pick up the last of our specialists. The Sisters of Vengeance are, based on our best intel, a pair of asari matrons that hold some kind of grudge against the Broker. They specialize in ambush tactics, booby-traps, poisons, assassinations, and especially bombings of all kinds."

She glanced at Garrus. "I've certainly gotten my hands dirty a few times in my campaign against the pirates, and I understand Garrus's team also had a few unintended casualties. That being said our focus is on keeping damage mostly limited to the assholes we're trying to kill. The Sisters don't appear to share that discretion. They started out keeping things clean, but have gotten increasingly bloody and ruthless as time has gone by. For the past few months, they've had a lot of collateral damage, and so has the Broker in trying to kill them off."

She tented her fingers together. "While I normally would not want to work with a pair of murdering terrorists... the fact that I'm working with Cerberus will probably make us out to be just as bad to the rest of the galaxy. The main reason we're going to go after them is they have a lot more information on the Broker and his methods than we do, and they seem to be the ones he's trying to kill the most."

Miranda muttered. "Not to mention they seem to be winning, something Cerberus has never managed."

Shepard flashed her a grin. "Don't be sour, Miranda." She leaned back. "Questions so far?"

Angel nodded. "Just one. I'm a bit concerned about the reason why we're going after the Broker in the first place." He held up a hand as Garrus leaned forward angrily. "Hang on. I understand – the bastard killed your wife, Garrus's wife, and some of your friends. But the Broker doesn't seem to care very much about the Butcher, and not much more about Archangel – he's focused on these Sisters."

He folded his hands together. "Given that they sound like a pair of psychopaths, why not let them draw the Broker's attack and then take out whoever he sends after them, or see if we can trace them back? I don't have a problem with you guys wanting the Broker dead, but more than a few have tried and died. The news of what's going down on Ilium right now sounds... bad."

Miranda's voice lanced out. "While it is certainly true that we do have a potential opportunity to observe or attempt to trace the Broker's activity in regards to the Sisters of Vengeance, we're operating in a data deficit when it comes to localizing him. Cerberus and the Broker Network have been fighting a shadow war for almost twenty years, and we've never gotten close to being able to trail his people back." Her voice became rueful. "Our previous focus on having mostly human operatives put us at a disadvantage in terms of penetration of his own network - very few humans rise to any level of access."

Trudy spoke up. "More than that, guys – the Broker doesn't usually send in so many assets after one problem. He had his people blow up a reactor, knowing that would draw immense pressure and stir up trouble with the Asari Republic. We don't know why he's so desperate to kill the Sisters, and throwing them away in hopes of taking advantage of their deaths is risky."

Angel arched an eyebrow. "Less risky than boots on the ground in a civil war with justicars and who knows what else showing up?"

Shepard shook her head. "Enough. I don't like the idea much more than you do... and I'm not sure, once we get what we need from these Sisters, that I may not take up part of your idea and let them lead the charge into wherever the Broker operates from. But the bigger reason we have to move now is that the Broker is working with the Collectors."

She gestured at Garrus. "Garrus and Tali can tell you how 'reasonable' the Citadel Council is about things their own agents are telling them. I can just imagine how they'd react if I showed up from the dead, working with Cerberus, claiming the Broker was working with Collectors. His people would ruin any chances we have."

She met Angel's gaze squarely. "I also won't lie and pretend we're going in there to just save the Sisters. It's because I'm pretty sure the man responsible for a lot of what I've suffered, Tetrimus Rakora, is going to be there. He's the Broker's primary enforcer and if we can kill him then it will be a lot easier to confront the Broker."

Garrus flicked a mandible. "Once you and I have finished killing him in every way I can think of, how exactly do we 'take the fight' to the Broker? We never even got close to figuring out where he is."

Shepard nodded. "We're hoping the Sisters know – it's the only reason the Broker would be trying so hard to kill them. They may not have a method off the planet, and even if they do, they'd be vulnerable to the Broker's assassins."

Grunt shrugged his massive shoulders. "Talking about it is pointless. Shepard has decided... so why are we here?"

Shepard leaned back. "To go over our potential operational plan. Right now, Matriarch Trellani is landing on Ilium, where she's going to make contact with some local data brokers. We are hoping that they'll be able to localize the Sisters without any trouble, but we're not going to count on that." She gave a rueful smile. "Given how things usually turn out on the Shepard Express, expect that we'll have to find them ourselves."

Zaeed grunted. "Good luck with that shit. If they could just be guddamned found, we'd never have heard of them."

Shepard smirked. "Luckily, the one thing we can be sure of is that they're going after the Broker." She tapped her omni, and the haptic projector in the far wall illuminated. "The Broker's last remaining... ally, I guess, is Nassana Dantius, CEO of Dantius Starsystems. She's one of the Five, the CEOs that run Ilium, and owns about a fifth of the planet. Dantius is dirty, and is in some kind of feud with her sister, who is a big shot Silver Rim slaver."

Shepard changed the display, showing a gigantic skyscraper, with another one in construction next to it. "According to Cerberus and Trellani's sources, Dantius is going to be having a big gala affair – she's invited the fleet commanders of the Republic fleet over the planet to the event, as well as a lot of other big names. With the last Broker base on Ilium taken out by the FTL crash, the only place the Broker's goons could be operating out of is this tower."

Shepard glanced up at Trudy, who smiled and spoke. "Cerberus intel picked up on a big mess – Dantius was behind several jobs done by the Broker to take out her sister's operations. The Broker apparently contracted it out to a Remembrance Dancer Clan, then had a third party go and kill most of the Dancers to clean up the evidence."

Trudy's voice dipped in tone. "Shockingly, this didn't go off perfectly – one of the Dancers got away, a drell that Cerberus claims to have dealt with before. One Mr. Thane Krios."

Miranda nodded, a grim look on her face. "Yes, that is correct. He was one of the team that went to retrieve Shepard's body."

Tali's voice was incredulous. "I thought he died in the ceiling collapse back at Omega."

Trudy shook her head. "Apparently not. He reached out to us several times over the past year or two, and we finally provided him with the proof he needed to get revenge. Thane claims Dantius is working with the Broker, and that he's sending a super-powerful kill team, led by Tetrimus himself, to deal with the Sisters. Thane and some of his Clan plan to get in the way. I'm gambling the Sisters are going to know Tetrimus is coming... and that's where they will be."

Shepard spoke again. "We don't know exactly what we are going to be headed into on Ilium, but it's likely to be a fucking mess. The planet's on the edge of civil war, and the capital Nos Astra is going to be as dangerous as Omega. We've gotten reports of STG, justicars, and some other players on the ground, so this is likely to be messy."

"Our _goal_ is simple: find the Sisters and get them the hell out before the Broker gets them killed. Focus on extraction, not on anything else – given all the asari fleet power around Ilium, and the beaten up condition of our fleet after Horizon, if things go south in a big way we'll be stuck."

Garrus flicked a mandible. "And Tetrimus?"

Shepard's fist clenched slowly. "I seriously doubt we'll be able to do this without killing off the Broker's heavy hitters. In fact, I'm planning on it, which is why we're not just going in in one big wave." She tapped her omni-tool again. "We're going to need several teams. Garrus, Grunt, myself, and Zaeed will form the heavy combat unit. The DACT will shadow us and DFA once we locate the primary target. If Tetrimus, Tazzik, or any other crazy fuckers show up, we'll deal with it. Once we locate the Sisters we'll cover the retreat as the rest of you get them out of there."

She pointed at Miranda. "Miranda, once again I'm putting you in charge of a medical extraction team. Doctor Sedanya, Doctor Solus, Melenis, and Krul will go with you. When we find the Sisters, your job is to patch them up and get them out of danger."

She turned to Kasumi. "Goto, I want you, Jack, Mierin, Sidonis, and Tali on a secondary support team. You'll lead them. Shadow us and take out anything coming at us from behind. Most of you are snipers, so that's your call on when to engage. Tali will handle drones and any hacks we need. Jack, if Tetrimus shows up, play havoc with his biotics if you can to give us an opening." She paused. "Once we're done and are moving out, you'll fall in with my group for the escape."

She turned to Taylor. "Taylor, I want you, Kiala, Dost, Angel, and my Marines as hot backup if things go bad. If one of the other teams gets into a firefight, you get to pull them out, and when Miranda's team is getting out, you'll fall in with them to make sure they escape.

"With any luck, Trellani will be able to get us enough information to find the Sisters... if not, we'll have to assume they're going to be at the Dantius gala clusterfuck and try to find a way in." She placed both hands on the surface of the conference table. "In either event, things are going to be messy. Broker kill teams are usually turian and salarian mercs, with very few asari or batarians. They're very tech heavy, with lots of anti-biotic toys, and focus on sniping and shock combat."

Trudy spoke up. "According to the Illusive Man, most of what's left of Cerberus's ground forces are going on this mission – ten battle-suits and a reinforced company of soldiers. They're going disguised, but aren't supposed to deploy unless Trellani is compromised, or if we need serious help."

Shepard nodded. The Illusive Man had told her he didn't have much in the way of military assets, but she'd thought he had more than _that_, although ten battle-suits were nothing to exactly sneer at. "Good. I assume they have their own chain of command?"

Miranda spoke. "Yes. General Petrovsky will be on the scene, in orbit. Hopefully we won't require the use of those assets at all." She pushed her hair back. "Shepard, this is clearly only an outline of a plan, but it seems somewhat thin on details."

Shepard shrugged. "No more than the 'plan' we had for Omega. With as much mess as there is on Ilium right now, any plan we make with almost no real data is going to go completely to shit." She turned to Pressly. "How long to reach Ilium?"

He frowned, tapping his own omni. "...Two hours to the Veina Relay, and a three hour FTL burn to the Kashci Relay. If we go in full stealth and expect to stay that way, I'd strongly advise dropping heat and charge in the Zelene System next door, and come into the Tasale System off the main trade lane."

Shepard spent a moment on her omni, looking at the details of the Crescent Nebula before nodding. "Good idea. So, call it six hours to orbit from when we leave." She gestured to Doctor Sedanya. "Issues?"

The asari folded her arms. "Jack, Mierin, and Sidonis had their surgeries yesterday. I'd prefer them to have a least another week of recovery, but I know time is tight. Assuming they don't stress anything and have their cybernetic packages sealed inside an omni-gel bandage, they should be good to go." She glanced across the room. "Jacob, however, is still severely injured."

The burly black Marine sighed. "Doc, I've fought through worse."

The asari shook her head. "Captain, I strongly doubt you've been struck by weapons that vaporize whatever they hit before. You still need more time on the nerve regenerator machines or you'll never walk without a limp again, not to mention the condition of your arm and the burns from your armor melting." She turned her head to face Shepard. "He's not going to be fit for anything for at least a week, preferably two."

Shepard pondered that. Angel spoke up. "It's been a long time since I formally led troops in the Alliance, ma'am, but not so long since I had to lead the Angels on Omega. I've been a BDO before."

She nodded. "That's true, but it does leave your team without a biotic, and that could be a serious liability."

The heavy voice of Randal Ezno rang out. "In that case... I would suggest that I accompany your backup team." She glanced up at him and he gave a thin smile. "I am a biotic as well as very experienced in direct combat and troop movements."

She arched an eyebrow. "I thought you were only concerned with the security of the base."

He rolled his shoulders. "It's rather boring." An amused note entered his voice. "And unlike most of your team, I've been on Ilium before, more than once. I can hold my own."

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck. "Miranda? Thoughts?"

The other Cerberus operative gave a weak smile. "Mr. Ezno is a... formidable biotic, and is more than capable of holding a line of battle. However, he's very recognizable as a Cerberus operative."

Shepard shrugged. "And you aren't?" She smiled and turned back. "Taylor, sorry, but you're on the bench for this one. Start drawing up a training and exercise program for both the troops and the non-military members of the group for when we get back."

Taylor squared his shoulders. "Yes, ma'am."

Shepard leaned back in the chair. "Questions? Ideas?"

Kasumi spoke up. "How exactly are we going to get on the ground on Ilium, Taicho? I somehow doubt they will not attempt to block traffic."

Shepard nodded. "The easiest method is have the _Normandy _stealth through the atmosphere, and drop the shuttles off outside the capital... along with the tank. That also allows for a hot pickup, assuming we can pull it off."

Pressly grimaced. "Keeping in stealth is going to make our heat endurance pitiful, ma'am. The new _Normandy _has a much larger heat budget and better heatsinks, but generates more too."

Joker shrugged. "Once we drop them off, I can head up toward the arctic area of the planet. It would put us out of the main scanning areas, too. Unlike the old _Normandy _we can do a slow heat dump even while stealthed... if we're really careful."

Pressly ran his hand over his balding head. "And if we mess it up, we'll light up like a Christmas tree."

Shepard shrugged. "Work it out. Any other questions?"

Miranda tapped notes into her datapad. "When do we launch?"

Shepard's head swiveled to find Trudy, who sighed. "Matriarch Trellani said it would probably take a day to get settled in, and one to two days to localize the target. The meet at Dantius Towers happens four days from now. In six days, the rest of the asari fleet – their Second Fleet, we believe – will arrive to reinforce the lockdown."

Shepard nodded. "So, six days at the max. If we're still there when that fleet arrives, getting out will be lots of fun." She laid her own datapad down. "Everyone make plans to depart at 0700 the day after tomorrow. I want to be onsite well before the shit at these towers goes down. Call it a hunch."

**O-TWCD-O**

"_You are cleared for landing, dock forty-seven, Nos Astra General, Spectre Vasir."_

With a smile, Aethyta Vasir watched as Tela responded. "Acknowledged, control." She clicked off and scowled at her aunt. "I thought you made arrangements to get past the blockade on your own, Auntie."

Aethyta nodded. "I did. Expensive ones. And if we can't hustle the girls out of here without an incident, that's how we'll get out of this relli's nest." She tapped the controls and angled the ship downwards, toward the night side of the planet. "It's also why no one is going to be checking out your story as to why you're here in the first place."

Tela nodded sourly, before checking her gear again. "Fair enough. Still a bit concerned, though. How is this going to work?"

Aethyta's smile faded a bit. "Carefully. It would be the height of stupid for me to go walking around Ilium with the Black Blades, as we kinda stand out in a crowd. You, on the other hand, are investigating something – make something up – and looking for information. You'll meet with Liara and Telanya in their data broker offices and set up a meet, and then we'll proceed in a ground transport – a cargo hauler or something where we can't be seen."

The other Vasir nodded. "And then what?"

Aethyta adjusted the flight path slightly, coming through the clouds and over the wide bay that Nos Astra was pressed up against. She switched the landing computer on and shrugged. "Depends on how they want to play it, Tela. If I can get them to leave without a ruckus – if we can convince Liara, at least, that Shepard is possibly still alive – maybe we won't need to do much of anything."

Her fingers moved over the haptics of the control panel, her voice sad. "But given what they've gone through, they'll probably want to kill Tetrimus before they go. We'll have to come up with something once we know how shit on the ground is shaking out."

Tela ran a diagnostic on her armor and shook her head. "We don't have much time until the Second Fleet jumps in-system, you know."

Aethyta snorted. "Pagh. Dantius and that other clanless trash will pay someone off before that happens." Her smile thinned into a narrow grimace a moment later. "Speaking of clanless trash, be careful down there. Situation's a goddess-damned mess likely to go to the depths in a split second, and we're going in blind."

The small vessel cut through the hazy atmosphere over Nos Astra, the city illuminated in a thousand spires of delicate silver, pale purples, and gentle, graded blues. The vast width of the seawall surrounding the harbor was dotted with GARDIAN towers and banks of GTS missiles, while the bay itself was studded with pleasure craft. Nos Astra's outer ring of slums and 'indentured servant facilities' gave way to the glittering beauty of the metropolis as Aethyta smoothly brought the ship into the docking slot assigned to it.

Tela frowned as the ship came to a stop. "I'm not really up-to-date on this place, Auntie... what's up with the clanless?"

Aethyta exhaled. "A lot, kiddo. The clanless idiots wanted to run a planet by themselves, but didn't realize they were being used. Most of the CEOs in charge of Ilium are in debt up to their crests with the Thirty, and when one gets too uppity the Thirty would call the notes due."

The older asari got out of her flight chair. "One of the CEOs, that crazy Dantius bitch, ended up borrowing from the volus to pay off the Thirty, then paying off the volus by selling drugs, optronics, and other stuff to Eclipse, and from them into the Traverse. Kept it quiet for a long time, but Spectres eventually figured it out."

Tela nodded. "I remember some of that – another Bau / Talid double team. What's that got to do with this?"

Aethyta checked her sword. "Short version? Dantius's sister sang like a zhongfish, and now the CEO is in huge trouble. Ilium wasn't expected to be successful, and now that it is – and the Broker's goons are all dead – the Thirty plan to fix that. Lay all the crimes on Dantius, and then strong-arm the rest of the CEOs into doing what the Thirty want."

She glanced out the cockpit window sourly. "The reason you need to be careful is that some idiot clanless might see you and think _you're_ here to strong-arm the CEOs. I'm pretty sure that's actually why the justicars are here... not that you'll convince anyone of that."

Tela walked out of the cockpit into the small inner segment of the ship, where the Black Blades were already checking weapons and armor. She turned back to face Aethyta as the older asari came out of the cockpit after her. "So what's my plan? I mean, you said meet with Liara and Telanya, but where?"

Aethyta tapped her omni-tool. "At their offices. They have a fairly secure suite of rooms in the South Silver Corporate Omniplex, just south of downtown. Get there via aircar – there should be rooftop parking – and try to keep a low profile. Once you're inside, they're on the fifth floor."

Tela nodded slowly. "And are they stable?"

Aethyta shrugged. "Hard to say, kiddo. Losing a bondmate... doesn't leave you in a good place, and when you drown yourself in hate and revenge... I suspect that does some damage." She paused, then met Tela's gaze directly. "I'm not sure it matters, either. Unstable or not, that's still my daughter. Right or wrong, good or bad... I'm getting her out of this place. And if you're right..."

She turned away, hand dropping to the sword at her hip. "...if you're right about Shepard, Tela, maybe I can actually get her life turned around."

Tela inclined her head. "And the clanless girl, Telanya?"

Aethyta snorted and her lips twisted in a sneer. "Clanless. Like I give a fuck. If she's loyal to Little Wing, fine, if not, whatever happens is what happens." She shrugged. "You have to get to their office before we can figure out the next step." She tapped her omni. "I've called up an aircab, should be here in five."

Tela nodded, and exited out of the hatch in the side. As it closed, one of her acolytes looked up from sharpening her warp sword. "Your niece is a little flaky for a Spectre. I expected a more professional outlook."

Aethyta scowled. "Smiya, when the fuck have we ever been professional?"

The other asari smiled, the white-painted marks on her dark purple skin twisting. "Never said we were, Mama Fish. But I expected something more... impressive?"

Another one of the Black Blades gave a grunt. "Saw her on Cirian XI. She's not real good with a blade, but she can kanquess fast, and her biotics are sharp. Give her another century or two and she'll be scary enough for you, Smiya."

The asari named Smiya sheathed her curved warp sword and strapped on her chest armor. "Whatever, Dinua. Just saying the situation is flaky as it is... is this Spectre girl of yours going to go along with things? I mean, she _is_ a Spectre – what if it turns out Little Wing blew the shit out of a bunch of people crashing that starship? Will she play along, or try to arrest her?"

Aethyta rolled her eyes. "Not happening. Tela is... not like that." She cleared her throat. "Alright, girls, plans are simple. If things go well, Tela convinces them to drop going after the Broker, they drive back here, we take the fuck off, and you all get to have wasted your time."

The assembled asari laughed bleakly at that, and she continued. "If things go how I expect, Liara will have a plan by now to go after Tetrimus. We'll probably have to figure out how we fit into it... and if she's actually got a shot at this, or if it's just staring at the waves."

Smiya shook her head. "It's _Tetrimus_. Unless her 'plan' includes 'dropping a building on him' or the words 'orbital bombardment,' any plan she comes up with is going to involve _us _engaging him en masse." She folded her arms. "We've killed some really nasty bottom-feeders over the years, and I'm not scared of anything that walks, but you know at least two or three of us are going to die before the fucker goes down."

Aethyta smirked. "I survived fighting the fuck."

Another one of the Black Blades snorted. "No disrespect, Mama Fish, but you still had your crests handed to you." She paused. "I came along on this little jaunt to get out of the house, since my bondmate died. To stop moping."

Her voice took on a harder note. "Like I said, I'm not saying I'm scared of the fuck – bring him on and we'll kill his ass like we did everything else in our way. But I need to know why we're all risking death when we could just grab Little Wing and get the hell off this commoner shithole planet."

Aethyta folded her arms. "Girls, if this was just about Liara, I'd pull out a shock rifle and tranq her, and she'd wake up once we were somewhere safe. But there's more shit on the table than just my daughter's life, or mine."

She bit her lip. "The Broker is tied up with some of the same shit Saren and Benezia were, and he's the one advising the Council. My own grudges aren't the point, and neither are Liara's – I'm here because killing Tetrimus will get us closer to the Broker himself. And he has to be stopped. I can't go into all the details right now, but..."

She gave a condensed version of the situation with the Reapers, of how Aria's people had seen the Collectors meet with Broker ships, and then about how husks showed up at Eden Prime and in the video on the extranet from Horizon.

"I won't lie. Tetrimus isn't likely to be alone. I'll probably not be able to talk Liara out of going after him, and we're going to have to cut through the craziest, scariest fucks the Broker can throw at us to succeed. But if we don't stop this shit now, it's going to end up with Thessia looking like Horizon."

The group was silent for long seconds, before one of them spoke. "...That's some heavy waves to drop into the bay like that, Mama Fish."

Aethyta sighed. "I know, Manvai. And it shouldn't be up to a bunch of old fuckups like us to fix this... any more than it should have been up to us to fix lots of shit in the Republic. But now you know why I called you all here. Why it's important. All you have to do now is choose."

There were a few more seconds of silence, then the assembled blade mistresses all drew their hands into a gesture of siari agreement. Grim smiles and amused, rueful expressions spread across every face, and Dinua smirked as she spoke their own personal mantra.

"We're Blades. We don't run away from danger, we _are_ the danger."

Smiya looked around and then nodded at Aethyta. "Very well. One last crazy and likely suicidal adventure. But no more, and you're paying for the drinks when we're done."

She turned. "Blades, move out in trios, one at each quadrant of the dock, and watch for problems or justicars. When Mama Fish gives the order, it's time to get to work."

**O-TWCD-O**

"...Clear of the relay, Ginnister Tetrimus. Twenty-nine hundred k drift. Sensors nominal, no nearby vessels."

Sitting in the dimness of the bridge aboard the stealth-cruiser of the Broker, the black-cloaked form in the command chair merely nodded. "Have the rest of the ships enter the system in the lower elliptic, behind the gas giant Thail." He paused, then flicked a mandible. "And inform Ms. Dantius that we'll be in orbit shortly and will be awaiting her call."

As the communications officer bent to his console, Tetrimus leaned back, tilting his head in the direction of the bulky figure to his right. "Your thoughts?"

The huge, armored krogan standing next to him gave a single rumbling grunt before speaking. "This mission of yours seems excessive in both depth of power and preparation. Okeer always taught his pupils that overestimation of an enemy's power was just as unwise – and perilous – as underestimation."

Tetrimus nodded. "Perhaps. Then again, your old teacher is dead, Thax. And it is probably due to the fact that he underestimated who killed him."

Varun Thax gave a krogan shrug, the heavy shoulders whining due to the powerful cybernetic arms. " 'Perhaps' is a good choice of words. Okeer was never hasty, and I cannot shake the feeling his death was simply too... obvious. I still maintain we are missing something."

Tetrimus gestured to the viewscreen. "Then perhaps another time would be best to discuss it, as the Sisters of Vengeance are the goal here, and I am not overestimating their danger."

Thax gave the turian in the chair a cool look, his bulbous blue eyes narrowing. "I only agreed to this somewhat ridiculous task on the chance that I would have an opportunity to engage the Butcher in combat, to avenge my old battlemaster. The Sisters I leave to you and the rest of the rather eclectic team you have assembled."

Tetrimus flicked his mandible again, but the comms tech spoke up. "Ginnister, Ms. Dantius has agreed to meet tomorrow morning at first meal, and has arranged a berth for a pinnace at Nexium Skyport, dock slip 90B, all fees paid."

"Very good. Inform her we will be there and the situation clarified once we arrive." He turned more fully to Thax. "I leave it to you to prepare the ambush as needed. I am willing to admit you are better at such things than I... while I need to speak with the others about their roles."

Thax's chuckle was almost amused, his baritone voice edged with the same polite mockery Okeer's often held. "I am overjoyed by your magnanimity, my good friend. I shall endeavor not to disappoint."

Tetrimus got up from the chair and walked slowly to the lift at the back of the bridge, but paused upon reaching it. "It isn't me you need to worry about disappointing, Thax, but the Broker."

Thax frowned sourly as the turian cripple entered the lift. "...perhaps. A fitting word indeed." Turning his attention to the console in front of him, he tapped the omni-panel and pulled up everything the Broker Network had discovered about the Butcher.


	39. Arc III: Angstrofuck of Doom Pt 1

_**A/N**:_

_Behold the opening stanzas of the Angstrofuck of Doom. Sorry this took so long, but it ended up being re-written multiple times (even after going to the Editing Gang) and I ended up splitting the chapter. _

_As usual, none of this would be possible without the dedicated assistance of the Editing Gang. _

_Also as usual, you should seriously check out Aberron's **Living an Indoctrinated Dream. **It is also worth looking at **Mass Effect - Hellion **by ArielFetters. _

* * *

_'Justice is merely a word, often misused by those who fail to understand their place. I do not believe in fairness, as that is all too often subjective. I believe in the traditions and ways that have guided our people for ten thousand years and more. If that offends or invalidates the lives of those who choose to live in the Republic, they should change themselves. Those who refuse to bend must be removed for the good of all. That is the only justice that can be real.' _

_\- Senior Justicar Samara, testimony before the Asari Republic Public Forum, on why she purged nearly half the population of the asari colony of Theone, 2180__  
_

* * *

On the morning of the day that would come to be known as one of the bloodiest events in its history, Ilium was already balanced on the tense edge of chaos. Its fate was being decided in the Hall of the Matriarchs on Thessia, and its future was in the hands of a small group of asari who cared little for its people.

Thana T'Armal folded her arms as she reclined in the luxuriantly padded chair, her eyes fixed on the figure in front of her. The rest of the Council of Matriarchs were arranged around her in a semicircle, bathed in ever-shifting light from the complex mix of holographic scenes from the high-vaulted roof and light from the tall, slanted windows of the temple.

Justicar Mistress Layana stood in their midst, her red robes covering ancient, red-tinted steel armor, her blunt features set in her usual bored scowl and her face made more brutal by the iron patch covering her left eye. Her voice, as always, reminded Thana of the hard tones of Aethyta Vasir, and her phrasing wasn't much more elegant.

"Ilium has been a problem for centuries, Matriarchs. Never a proper part of the Republic. I do not understand why the Thirty, may radiance trail your actions, hasn't ever bothered to take the place in hand, but that is not my place. My place is to enforce justice. Whatever possible rationale there was for letting the clanless run wild this long has certainly been offset by the chaos coming from the world now. These Sisters of Vengeance are quite possibly ardat-yakshi, and the hints my justicars find on the worlds of the Republic all point to Ilium – and possible deals with Aria – as the cause of most of the unrest in our race."

Matriarch Yulsanis T'Purice, the oldest of the Matriarchs of the Thirty, gave a polite sign of siari disagreement. "Child, you think your many losses and years give you perspective. There are things we have done over the long march of years that seem confusing, but were done with good reason. As you said, you do not grasp why we chose to... allow Ilium to prosper."

The old asari gave a rasping cough before continuing. "There have always been those of our people who chafed at the unity and inner peace we pursue. Deviants who reject the wisdom of the Thirty. Ignorant children who think they know better than their elders. We have not bothered to control the world because it is... useful to have such an outlet for the discontented."

Layana's good eye widened. "It is useful to have a pack of criminals, who break taboos, value money over other asari, embrace slavery, murder, and all manner of other crimes?"

Matriarch Devir leaned back in her seat, her sharp features twisted into a mocking grin. "You are simply too lawful and orderly to see such a thing. Consider. The ignorant who flee to Ilium are exposed to the ugly truth of how the lesser aliens live and operate. The younglings who go to Ilium are confronted with the uncultured lifestyle. The lack of unity, the immorality, the brutal disregard for life. Many of those who go return swiftly, and are far more ready to listen to the wisdom of the Thirty after seeing up close what asari would be without us."

Layana grunted. "Some of them like it, and more probably get corrupted."

Devir shrugged. "Perhaps. But most, we have found, are instead horrified, repulsed, and outraged. Our people tend to see ourselves as wise, elegant, figures of culture, grace, and, above all else, unity." She paused to sip at her wine, the crystalline glass catching the light from above with the motion. "The trash of Ilium are very much out of the flow of the sea to us. At best, they are... proud of being shallow, gritty, cruel, and uncultured."

Uressa T'Shora's face was sad as she spoke, her tone one of regret. "Yes. It is a place where money and shallow popularity are worth more than the communal good, or the lives of the unfortunate. Where flashy extravagance is held more highly than mercy, or kindness, or creativity. They focus entirely on the self."

Matriarch Inetia T'Rome spoke before Layana could do so. "There is also the hard truth that those who do not fit into our society and have no place in it are better contained on Ilium than letting them go to Aria, or our human cousins."

Layana shook her head. "You are aware the Clans view Ilium much more differently? They are thieves who cheapen the work of Steelshape and Hearthwatch. They don't venerate wisdom, they venerate a level of venality and greed that would shame a volus." She let her voice rise in volume. "By the love of the Goddess, Matriarchs, seventy percent of the rogue ardat-yakshi we have to deal with come from that world! There are known, openly operating Dreaming Dancer cults, and even fragments of the Triune Unity."

The ancient justicar folded her arms. "I know Ilium's coffers have provided a great deal of money and boosted our economy, not to mention allowed what you speak of in isolating troublemakers. But they have been 'off-limits' now for centuries, ever since my predecessor tried to clean the place up last time. With the exception of a handful of my best senior justicars chasing ardat-yakshi in clear and hot pursuit, we haven't been on the world at all in three hundred years."

Thana T'Armal sighed. "Layana, we are hardly unaware of that. Please come to the point. We have already locked the system down and allowed you to land a small force to pursue rumors of a rogue ardat-yakshi on the planet."

Layana smiled, and tapped her omni-tool. "As you know, I have certain contacts with our cousins, the human Commissars. One of them has informed me that the chaos on Ilium, between the Broker and the Sisters, is the part of something much larger, and more dangerous."

An image appeared of Matriarch Trellani, in a dark black gown with a silver shawl, on the arm of a handsome if nondescript human male with sunglasses. "Trellani has been confirmed by certain events to be working directly with the human terror group Cerberus, which somehow survived the strike to destroy them. Cerberus is believed by the Alliance to be behind both this Butcher creature and the Archangel. Given the references the Butcher has made, they believe Cerberus may be funding the Sisters as well."

Thana leaned forward, eyes narrowed intently, while Uressa looked disturbed. The younger form of Shaltha T'Vaan, the youngest member of the Matriarchy, frowned. "What does this have to do with anything at all?"

Matriarch T'Purice's voice was sharp. "Think, child. When the Archangel was threatened, the Butcher extracted him. The Sisters appear to be under a threat now, with the information we have of the Broker moving heavy combat units to the world."

Shaltha rolled her eyes. "And so what? You don't think Trellani would be stupid enough to expose herself on Ilium, certainly?"

Layana's smile was cold. "You forget that Trellani did a great deal of studying on Ilium, and returned there shortly before she went insane. There is, based on documents we recovered from the Triune Unity, fragmentary evidence she found something on Ilium. She would be the natural person to lead any Cerberus expedition to Ilium." She paused. "There's also comms intercepts we have that reveal Nassana Dantius has been hiring up experts on Matriarch Dilinaga's writings… and of course Trellani was one of the leading experts in those writings."

Shaltha looked confused, but all twenty-nine of the other matriarchs sat bolt upright in their seats, a few even dropping hands to warp swords. Uressa looked completely furious, while Thana's eyes were now as hard as Layana's single one.

It was the voice of T'Purice that lanced out. "There will be time enough to explain things to you later, Shaltha. Layana, Ilium was left in its current state of affairs to try and draw out certain unwanted elements in our society. If Trellani is connected to them – or even has the possibility – that is extremely dangerous."

Layana bowed. "Thus my concern, Matriarchs." She took a deep breath. "The issue in the Terminus with Aria is already intolerable. I know one part of why we never stopped the chaos recently on Ilium is that the Broker was demolishing Aria's network there. But I submit there are enough dangerous actors on the scene now that we need to purge the world and restore direct control."

There was silence in the chamber for several long seconds, before Thana nodded slowly. "Your proposal?"

Layana smiled. It wasn't a pleasant expression and it twisted the scar tissue on her face. "First, that we are agreed that Ilium's placement under martial law should be finalized. The GTS network should be secured, and the full power of the Justicar Order, with support from the First Elite Republican Guard, should be used."

Layana tapped her omni-tool again. "The primary reason would be the capture and execution of the ardat-rekshi known as Morinth, the daughter of Senior Justicar Samara. Morinth is, based on my source in the Commissars, being used by our cousins to execute criminal scum. While that's certainly the only possible moral use of such a wretch outside of the hands of the Thirty, blessings trail your steps, Morinth has multiple connections with Aria – and has been seen meeting with Nassana Dantius. That connection you have already stated to be dangerous."

She paused a second, allowing that point to sink in, before continuing.

"Second, based on what information I have is that the mess on Ilium is likely to result in some kind of Cerberus-Broker conflict. If the Sisters of Vengeance are connected to Cerberus as we suspect, then we may have an opportunity to deal with the being known as the Butcher, or a chance at neutralizing Trellani. Given the Broker's assistance with fighting Aria, and Cerberus's possible ties to her – Archangel was almost certainly doing Aria's dirty work – I would argue siding with the Broker is best."

Thana's eyes were still narrowed. "And the third thing? The actual goal, I suspect?"

Layana cut off her omni. "Matriarchs, Ilium is sick. You have already been forced to endure the insulting indignity of having the Corporate Court of Ilium attempt to bribe you to turn a blind eye to their mistakes as if you were common rabble. We have evidence that the Court has sold state secrets to the volus, that they are engaged in completely outlawed research, that they may be in some sort of illegal deal or deals with the NDC, and that they are _definitely _shipping arms and equipment to turian separatists who are actually the agents of Aria or P."

She folded her arms. "The planet's leadership must be purged. The population must be lanced of its… infectious criminal elements. Bluntly put, criminals breed and attract like minds. It is a haven for drug-pushers, gang assassins, low-index ardat-yakshi, and all manner of other undesirables in mainline asari society. Notwithstanding your point about having a place for such failures to go other than Aria, I would argue clearing it out now will prevent it from being a chink in the Republic's armor, while still retaining that use under proper supervision in the future."

Uressa T'Shora finally seemed to gather her composure. "What you are talking about is likely to be very bloody, justicar. Such an attack would, at the least kill thousands of innocents – if things escalate, then how can you insure the lives of those caught in the missed shots of a space battle, or open biotic warfare? Families will be torn apart and the people who simply left our shores for those of Ilium to find peace will be punished for the actions of others, not their own choices."

The cold features of Layana didn't alter. "These people you speak of, these innocents – they claim to be part of the Republic, in a way. The Code speaks of the nature of mercy. 'Let not the desire for loving oneness / cleave sense from duty. A clear sight of that which must be removed / Is the sacrifice of a limb bitten by the relli that the patient may survive.' "

Uressa shook her head. "And those who are caught up in the crossfire of such an action?"

Layana's voice, amazingly, softened slightly. "It is sad that souls like yourself are so rare, Matriarch Uressa. It is conversations of this nature that bring the only regrets I have in my job to the forefront of my mind. Will innocents die? Yes. Will those who simply live in proximity die? Most certainly. Will the galactic community recoil in horror and castigate us for brutality, for intolerance, for outright massacre?"

She watched the faces of the matriarchs, and then shook her head sadly.

"Almost certainly." Her voice hardened. "And the alternative is worse, Matriarch. The alternative is a world where the powerful and wealthy _already _abuse and murder the innocent, and enable others to spread misery. It is a world that breeds ardat-yakshi that go on to wreak terror and loss among our people, or worse, aliens who have no warning of the danger they represent. It is a festering sore on the beauty of the Republic that – at best – is being used by outside forces to infiltrate our homes."

She paused, meeting Uressa's gaze. "Most of all, Matriarch... if in the chaos reigning now, we choose _not_ to act, the likely result is the Corporate Court will assume we never will. Ilium throwing in with Cerberus, or with Aria, is going to result in many more innocent deaths. Deaths we could prevent. I would much rather thousands die now than billions later to slake Aria's need for revenge."

Matriarch Uniath T'Mal, an older, slender matriarch with striking features, spoke, her voice mellifluous as usual. "The decision is then one of scale? Act now in a harsh manner and mitigate a larger mess down the river, or wait and see what transpires and then take action with the risk that the planet may end up a true problem." She tapped her chin. "That does favor your approach, although as Matriarch Uressa said it is likely to be bloody and have… ramifications. Political. Economic."

Layana nodded. "I will not pretend that the action I am describing will be gentle. But Ilium is, after all, a world of the clanless. There will always be disaffected clanless, and long experience has taught us that acceding to their wishes only makes the problem worse. If the people defy us, then those who refuse to listen to reason and wisdom will pay the price. I see no reason to cater to the concept that we should coddle criminals... and that is what they are."

She pulled up an infographic on her omni-tool. "You worry about casualties? Between the reactor explosion, the bombings, the killings, and the FTL crash, hundreds of thousands are already dead, more are homeless, and an entire fifth of the outlying city is in ashes. If we don't act now, the Corporate Court will simply let this chaos continue and bring in Eclipse to solve the chaos. Do you think Sederis's insane legions will be any more merciful than my own forces?"

She straightened. "You worry about the _politics_, or the chance of some economic embargo? The CEO of Liralax Arms is arming turian separatists who have the openly stated goal of butchering the Primarchs of the core Hierarchy colonies. If proof of such things could be traced to our doorstep, do you honestly think the turians will believe us when we claim not to know? The toll there would be measured in the **billions** of lives."

She exhaled a final time. "As always, the choice is yours alone, scions of Athame, may glory and wisdom bless your houses forever."

Silence filled the hall once more, and then Matriarch T'Armal spoke. "Justicar, my vote is to purge Ilium and establish martial law and direct control of all GTS, defense, and orbital networks, communication infrastructure, and the cities of Nos Astra, Nos Valeth, and Nos Gela. Arrest warrants are to be written for all of the five CEOs of the Court of Corporations. The entire population is to submit to ardat scale testing, any resistance is to be met with lethal force. The population is to disarm, any resistance is to be met with lethal force. Finally, any criminals are to be brought to justice or death, and those aiding or abetting them are to be dealt with in the same manner."

She paused. "In pursuit of this, and of other possible outstanding criminals, you are released from the _Sutras of Restraint_. Those innocent of crimes who die will be honored and mourned in the ashes of a new dawn. Matriarchs, vote your approval."

As expected, T'Shora, T'Soni, Vasir, Vabo, and T'Suon voted against the decision, but the rest of the Matriarchs voted for it. As this wasn't a direct command of the Thirty, but rather a petition from the Justicar Order itself, a unanimous vote wasn't required.

Layana smiled tightly as she bowed and withdrew, and then tapped her omni-tool. "Command, immediate burst transmission to Hunting Group Ilium. Message follows – 'Samara, no limits. Ignore media, concentrate on complete control and purge. Sisters of Vengeance, any possible alien forces, and other criminals are to be arrested or executed. Collateral damage is not a concern.' "

The asari on the other end of the comm-link repeated back the message that would see Ilium afire by the end of the day, and Layana's smile only widened.

Humans were often too hasty and much of their wisdom was suspect, but they had one wonderful phrase the Justicar Order had fallen in love with thirty years ago, and she whispered it to herself now as she left the Temple halls.

"One cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."

**O-TWCD-O**

In the morning, Nos Astra was nervous and silent, its glittering spires and sprawl of fab-blocks and aerolanes seemingly empty for once. From her perch at the top of the traffic control tower of the main spaceport, Senior Justicar Samara's empty gray eyes scanned that horizon, her expression serene and her posture relaxed.

She wondered if the sense of calm the city felt was as false as her own.

Her forces had landed safely, the first such landing in centuries. Samara had been a trainee the last time the Order was free to act on Ilium as they did elsewhere and remembered the events that led to the Order being thrown off-world by defiant clanless ready to die rather than submit. Why the Thirty had tolerated such an insult had always bothered her.

Today it would be rectified. She looked down at the landing area. Five thousand Republican Guard soldiers, mostly from Armali and Serrice, marched neatly down and out from their landing vessels, while the thin red line of her justicars, twenty in all, stood in silent review to one side. Gunships were being unmoored from the support transport along with communications equipment and heavy weapons.

She glanced skyward for a moment. She couldn't make them out through the thick cover of clouds, but she knew that in orbit was part of the Second Fleet – and another one hundred justicars as well as two full storms of the Guard, over twenty thousand in all. This force was bolstered with half a dozen Sunrise-class light hovertanks, although given Ilium lacked battlesuits they would surely be unnecessary.

Her gaze turned to the city center, and her mission. Her orders – received only minutes before – had been clear and direct. Ilium was to be pacified at all costs, the Sisters of Vengeance were to be arrested or killed, and anything that defied the Order was to be... removed.

That would lead to a great amount of bloodshed, in a very short amount of time. She watched the aerolanes full of aircars for a moment more before the door behind her slid open and her second-in-command, Justicar Ysi Vhira, stepped through.

Vhira was one of the Thirty, a rare thing – usually done only by those who swore oaths for revenge. Samara knew her bondmate, mother, and children had all been killed by anti-Thirty activists believed to be headquartered in Ilium. She wasn't sure if she could keep the other justicar inline – even though she was senior, she was of the Clans, and Vhira was second-born to the house matriarch.

"We have initial strike targets, Samara." Vhira tapped her omni-tool, and linemaps of Ilium flashed onto the nearby display panels on one wall. "The outer slum areas near the south are the most likely place to find the trash we're looking for. We believe the location here," – she tapped a group of old abandoned warehouses – "is the headquarters of that slaver group we've been tracking. It looks like most of the filth failed to get off-world before the blockade came down."

Samara nodded. "Many of these warehouses are converted into low-cost housing, I see. There will be significant chances of those not directly guilty being caught in the resulting firefights."

Vhira shrugged. "They knew these thugs were here, selling other asari into slavery, and did nothing? Guilty." She tapped another section. "The Corporate Court is refusing to surrender, and is gathering their forces near the riverside that divides the city. We can probably talk the idiots down with a show of force."

Samara nodded a second time and turned her gaze out to the city. Her daughter was in this place, somewhere. It was very possible that Trellani, the arch-traitor, was on the planet. Those two took priority. Once she had resolved that issue she could focus more on figuring out how to deal with Ilium itself. The fate of the countless clanless who would suffer was not her priority.

"I will take the Everchosen and begin the search for our quarry. I leave the pacification to you, Vhira. The Justicar Mistress has authorized complete sanction with no limits... and no worries of collateral damage."

The eager expression on the younger asari's face flickered into one of faint concern. "The media won't like it, and we don't have enough control over the comm-nets to stop the footage."

Samara turned back to face her, and her voice was cool, almost mocking. "Nor should we try to stop it. It is past time the asari see exactly why it is unwise to oppose the Thirty for things such as money, greed, and vile perversion. It is hard for me to find any concept of 'innocence' on a world where slavery is legal, where organleggers are companies with publicly traded stocks, and where one is fined for killing only if you do not clean up the mess afterwards."

As the sun began to illuminate the sky in streaks of gold and red, the endless tramp of feet and the soft, light sound of the Republic's battle-song rang out through the air. The units moved in the smooth ranks of the echelon, the lightly armed sisters first, then the hunters, and then the ranks of the battle matriarchs. Banners emblazoned with the sigils of a half-dozen asari city-states - Armali, Serrice, Purice, Sona, Vasira and Romae - fluttered in the wind.

Minutes later, she was still staring out at the city when a dozen firefights had broken out and the howl of Spear of Athame rifles and the screams of asari washed over the city. She knew this would happen. The Republican Guard would be seen by the people of Ilium as oppressors and invaders, while the Guard tended to resent the independence and what they considered disgraceful antics of the Ilium population.

Normally Samara would have run this operation differently, focused on arresting the Court and finding the criminals she was here for. But it had been made clear Ilium was going to burn to make a point to the clanless.

The sutras did not give her any choices nor peace of mind, she found. They demanded obedience no matter her personal opinions. The smoke rising from the city slums and the flashes of blue light that spoke of conflicts already escalating out of hand only made her focus on finding her daughter.

The control room was empty moments later, and Samara was on the hunt.

**O-TWCD-O**

Nassana Dantius smiled warmly at the figure seated on the fine vrin-leather couch across from her. Her meeting room for clients, Tetrimus noted, was exquisite yet tasteful – elegant works of art, subtle but careful architecture, and faint music combined with the tinkle of an artificial waterfall and mist generators to provide a serene atmosphere.

The huge armaglass windows to one side of the room overlooked all of Nos Astra and the wide bay of the Verras Sea beyond, the sun scattering gold and crimson lights atop the waves and glittering off the sharp, angular skyscrapers of the city center. Thin smudges of smoke occluded the view here and there, and the asari CEO shook her head in dismay.

"The Thirty, blessings trail their movements, have ruined us here, Aeostos Tetrimus." She used an obscure asari term of respect, one cobbled together from old salarian words that roughly translated to 'honored killer.' "My operations here will almost certainly be undone."

Tetrimus nodded. "Our associate at the ruins is finished with his... observations. Your decision to inform us of the site was wise, madam. The Broker has always been impressed with your operation. He is fully prepared to maintain your independence from us – and respects your own needs in this endeavor."

She sipped a glass of Serrician firewine and the smile became slightly stiff, her plain features twisting somewhat. "Translation: you're a dangerous relli, but we're not above putting you in someone else's garden."

She stood and walked to the window, gazing down. "My whole life has been invested into this city, this world. Discovering the ruins, seeing Dilanaga's writings, that terrible chamber of darkness, those horrible phrases I can't get out of my mind..."

She paused, and took another drink. "And now, I strongly suspect the Thirty are here for calling due their debts. The collapse of the turian-volus connection and the withdrawal of the Eclipse Mercenary Company from our rosters has crippled my own cash flow. The Thirty are aware I found the ruins, and I suspect that fool Thessial didn't listen to me and told someone else."

Tetrimus flicked a mandible, again nodding, the cloth of his black robes rustling. He chose not to share his personal opinion – money only made fools more foolish – instead offering an equally blunt truth. "That is what our initial investigations found." He paused as something exploded in the far distance, the tiny shapes of gunships at the city's edge illuminated by weapons fire and burning buildings.

"And I must say, the trap the Thirty have laid for you is... more elegant than their usual fare. When is Justicar Samara arriving?"

Nassana tossed her drink away carelessly, turning as it shattered on the ground. "Less than an hour. She's already arrested two of the Court's CEOs stupid enough to be at the spaceport – the only reason she didn't start with me is I'm the one with my finger on the trigger of our defense net and our ships. I've had them stand down to avoid a direct fight… but have no intention of sticking around."

Tetrimus leaned back. "I think we can accommodate this in a fashion to enrich all involved parties. Your people are completely outside our network and thus not compromised. They can help us localize the Sisters of Vengeance and deal with cleanup operations at the ruins. We have an asset there that is editing the records to point away from you and towards Matriarch Fienna."

He stood as well, smoothing his robes and picking up his cane. "Additionally, we've had faint rumors of other... interesting parties arriving on Ilium. If your people can localize them and we can neutralize them, that's also a win."

She gave a frown. "That is all tides along the shoreline, but how am I supposed to be getting away from this mess with a blockade in progress?"

Tetrimus smiled. "At the right moment... let's just say the Second Fleet will be heavily distracted. We've made certain that several explosive devices are on board certain Second Fleet vessels, and we have other preparations as well. You'll ship out on a stealthed turian frigate we specifically equipped for this mission and spend a week or so in transit to a secure location, and then we can discuss how to leverage your assets outside the Asari Republic."

She nodded, tapping her omni. "Yentha."

An older asari's face illuminated the omni-tool, the voice cold and hard. _"Yes, mistress?"_

"I'm evacuating to avoid... issues with the justicars. When they show up – roughly an hour from now – send them to the Board of Directors and act as if I am still here, feign not knowing when or why I left. If they put you directly to the Question, don't bother trying to resist or lie, tell them I left with elements from P.'s group an hour before they arrived."

She took a deep breath. "Send orders to all our intel and combat teams to link to channel 44i2-thanis-5 and obey the commands of the person on said channel. I've already had the accounting system dump five months of pay into everyone's bank account... good luck."

She clicked off and discarded the omni-tool, pulling out a package with a fresh unopened generic model. "I have enough wealth off-world that I have no need to travel with any possessions. I trust my contribution is sufficient?"

Tetrimus bowed. "Indeed, lady Dantius. I'll notify the Broker – and our field team leader – immediately." He turned to the trio of black-armored forms by the door. "Work with her bodyguards and get her to the frigate faster than a vakar's run. Once aboard have the pilot immediately break dock and head to the docks at Vinthan North Access, and when the signal comes, punch out for the relay at top speed."

One of them, a salarian, nodded rapidly. "Understood, Ginnister Tetrimus."

Nassana smiled as she passed by. "Will you be leaving a team or two here? I expect someone besides the justicars will try to take me out..."

Tetrimus only smiled wider. "We have left anyone attempting to do so a little gift, yes." He tapped his own omni. "Kill teams six and seven, heavy combat team three: engage Priority AVEST."

The omni-tool clicked twice in acknowledgment and the asari CEO gave him a curious look, to which he merely gestured to the door. "In the network, we often say time is money. Let us be on our way. I have a great many people to kill today and I'm eager to get started."

**O-TWCD-O**

By the time Tela Vasir reached the South Silver tower, thick heavy spires of smoke and the sound of shouting and biotic usage was already ringing through the streets, the news feeds were full of shouted reports of 'justicar brutality.'

Given what justicars usually got up to, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what a hardened place like Ilium considered brutality.

The Spectre looked at the black smudges along the horizon in the distance as she steered the aircar along the haptically generated line on the windshield HUD, before sighing and coming in for a landing. There was nothing she could do about the unrest – showing up would, as her aunt had warned her, only make the damned clanless convinced the Council was out to get them too – why else would a Spectre be here, after all?

The South Silver tower was a good twenty-stories tall, one of a cluster of three towers linked to a warehouse and distribution hub. Most of the businesses in the towers were light industrial – optronics repackagers, electronic manufacturers, and the like. The data brokers known as the Vantirus Sisters were not the normal sort of clientele for such a locale, but Vasir could see why they chose it.

It was, in short, a pain in the ass to attack.

Standing on a small jutting outcrop bounded by the river Khei, the south tower in particular would be a nightmare to assault, although the north tower was no joke either. The tower was near two of Ilium's powerful GTS batteries, and the ground level was at the end of a wide plaza facing the warehouse – no cover at all. It didn't help that a group of black-and-silver armored turians, some private merc force, was perched in a dozen handy sniping locations, or that heavy combat mechs guarded every entrance.

The building's rooftop was wide enough to contain a landing area, but Vasir noted, as the car came to a stop atop the tower's roof, that cameras tracked her descent. She'd bet money there was a hidden GARDIAN cannon built into all the ornamental framework on the building's eaves, and she saw a volus missile mech watching her landing before turning back to scanning the sky. In her time as a Spectre she had seen a lot of security, but a mech armed with twenty antimatter flek missiles guarding an aircar landing pad was a bit out of the ordinary.

She stepped out of the car, glancing around for a second until seeing the entryway, and moved to the armored door. She triggered her omni-tool, and sent a comm request. A moment later, a mounted speaker box to one side of the door erupted into sound, a hard but still pleasant voice, with a weak Armali accent.

_"Vantirus Information Systems."_

Tela took a deep breath. "It's Tela."

The voice on the other end soured. _"The door is unlocked. Head inside and enter the lift. Go to floor nineteen. We're in the offices across from the lift."_

Tela nodded, entering the corridor, as pale gray track lights in the ceiling came on. She was still not sure how this would play out, given her role in events... but whatever happened was going to be better than just tagging along with the Broker's plans.

_After all,_ she thought as she got into the lift and hit the haptic panel, _I am a loose end. Not a formal part of his Network. For all his promises of getting me out when his Network leaves, he might just see me as a liability, especially given that he knows I'm unhappy. I know what he does to loose ends._

Of course, given who she was about to meet with, there was every possibility that her very presence would anger the people she was supposed to talk to.

_Good job, let's set myself up so I'm fucked no matter what I do. Brilliant._

The lift descended rapidly, if a touch noisily, coming out into a boring gray-carpeted corridor trimmed in wooden paneling. She walked across to the doors inscribed with the company name and entered, glancing around.

She barely had time to take in the outlines of the small waiting area she was in – art on the walls, some kind of security mech behind a panel – before a pair of figures in black armaweave bodysuits walked through a heavy security door. One was taller than the other, and had a red-orange cybernetic eye replacement. Given that cybernetics were very rare for asari unless injured by very heavy burns or the like, the scar tissue trailing down the left side of her face visible above the black veil she wore was no surprise.

The silken face masks they wore revealed only their eyes as they came to a stop. "Spectre Tela Vasir."

She nodded. "We need to talk."

The taller one gestured to a meeting room visible through the open door, then turned to the shorter figure. "Trigger the vacuum shielding on the windows and the scrambler, please."

The other nodded and turned away, while Tela followed the taller one into the well-appointed conference room. The room was dominated by a table of black steel rimmed with wood, inset here and there with haptic screens. The far wall was a single pane of armaglass, showing the Ilium skyline, but it frosted over almost instantly as the tall one touched a button before sitting down at the head of the table.

Tela sat down across from her. "Aethyta did not give me many details."

As she spoke the shorter figure came in and shut the door behind her. Tela felt a tingle as some kind of jamming field powered up, even as the tall one nodded.

"But she had no issue in compromising our identities I presume?" The two of them pulled down their veils, revealing their faces.

Tela tilted her head. "Is it safe to speak? Don't want to step on anybody's crest." After a nod from the two, she gave a sigh. "To be honest I almost drew on her when she showed up. This has all been very carefully planned out on Aethyta's part and no one that I know thinks either of you are alive. I certainly haven't told anyone."

Liara nodded. "And our plans?"

"She told me pretty much nothing, except you two had some plan to try and kill Tetrimus." Vasir paused. "She also told me that she felt it would be best if we postponed those plans."

The shorter asari snorted. "Postponing isn't an option. And having you here wasn't in the plans."

Liara's visible eye was cold, narrow. "Which is why I am concerned at your presence, Spectre Vasir. You are not only a noted servant of the Broker... but directly responsible for the death of Shepard. Your presence given your affiliation makes it all too likely that your loyalties are divided."

Tela closed her eyes and nodded. "I am. Responsible, that is. I don't do work for the Broker any longer, if that is what you are asking. I am at fault for Shepard's death. I... could have said no to the Broker's request – but based on what he was saying, if I hadn't done it someone else would have."

Liara's eye narrowed. "You could have gone to the Council. You could have gone to the Council of Matriarchs. To my aithntar. To anyone!" Her voice elevated in rage and sound, and Tela merely met that single angry bloodshot eye.

And nodded. "I could have. I didn't. I didn't because I figured I'd just end up dead doing it, and probably so would you and Aethyta. In my view back then, Shepard was already dead. The only thing I could do was try to make sure you and Auntie weren't killed as well." She gave a weak sigh. "Humans, I told myself... don't live very long anyway."

Liara's gaze hardened even further, but Tela held up a hand. "That isn't an excuse, or a valid reason. In the passing of years, I've learned a lot of ugly truths about the Broker, which is why my thinking is different now. No amount of words is going to fix what I did, I know. The only way I can make up for what I did – for knowing what he would do, to Shepard, to you – is throw away my Spectre career and risk my life getting you and Telanya off this shithole planet and then fight the Broker myself."

Telanya gave a little breathy snort of black amusement. "Again with the leaving idea. Mighty convenient to do so now, when we finally have both a plan and an opportunity to kill the fucker who damn near killed us."

Tela folded her arms. "Like crashing a ship into the surface of the planet did?"

Liara glanced away. "That was a... poor, crest of the tide decision. We _miscalculated_."

Tela didn't look away. "You killed tens of thousands of innocent people, Liara. As fucked up as the Broker is even he doesn't do shit like that!"

Liara and Telanya both erupted into bitter laughter. "Spectre, I assure you, in our investigations and tracking, we've found he's done far **worse** than that." Liara stepped forward. "I still see no reason why I should trust you, or risk the last chance we may have at stopping the Broker by working with you when you might betray us."

Tela ran her hand over her crests. "I wouldn't betray Aunt Aethyta. Ever. I don't expect you to trust... or forgive. When this is all over if you want to kill me for what I caused, I won't fight back. Aethyta is... not doing well, and you of all people should know what she's gone through the past few years. The last thing she needs is her daughter dying to a stupid revenge killing or killing her niece."

Liara's mouth twisted. "This is more than a revenge killing. It is justice. Indeed, one could argue that such a view of the concept is the basis of the entire Justicar Order. I will not suggest my actions will not have ramifications. Instead, I will say that my life is empty. I _have_ made attempts to move on. I can't. Neither can Telanya. Nothing is left for us but revenge, justice, or whatever may come."

Tela shook her head. "That may not be true. Our best analysis on the Butcher says she might actually be... Shepard."

Liara sighed. "We have dealt with fake sightings and 'theories' for more than two years. No matter what you do to a human, they cannot perform the sorts of things the Butcher does. I saw her death, I felt it through our link... and I know Shepard. I think I of all people would recognize her if it was her."

Telanya gave the Spectre a cold look. "It's pretty low to even suggest such a thing is possible."

Tela tilted her head. "The Systems Alliance believes it may have merit."

Telanya's hard voice took on a cutting edge of sarcasm. "Because the _Alliance_ is real Goddess-damned trustworthy."

She let her arms drop. "If you don't want to believe in it, I can get that. What I can tell you is that your aithntar came with all of the living Black Blades, specifically to get you out of here and even up the score with Tetrimus."

Liara glanced at Telanya in shock, before turning back. "_All_ of the Black Blades are here as well?"

Tela watched the two of them as they conversed quietly, then Liara faced Tela squarely. "...Where is my aithntar?"

Tela jerked her thumb to the south. "Still back at the ship. South docks. The situation out there is kind of bad, in case you missed it. Bad enough if the public sees me walking around, but if they saw her or the Black Blades..."

Liara winced. "I have learned more than I could ever wish to know about my aithntar's rather bloody past. I can see how that is a concern." She gave a hollow laugh. "I have other potential allies coming in soon, some of which would be... alarmed to see you."

Tela waited as Liara seemed to be lost in thought before Telanya nudged her. The taller asari smiled at the contact. "Apologies. I am having to alter a complicated plan on the fly. Head back to my aithntar and her people and tell them to meet... us... at the warehouse at Niethar Waveway, 49-sienla-5. We've stockpiled weapons, armor, unmarked and armored aircars, and other supplies there."

Tela glanced at the two of them. "And the plan?"

Liara smiled coolly. "Will be discussed once you all arrive. You understand that, despite your words, the only reason I haven't killed you is that you're working with my aithntar and I don't want her distressed."

Tela frowned. "I'm not exactly easy to kill, Liara."

The cool smile widened. "Oh? One and Two, decloak."

Tela's senses felt something behind her and she turned, only to see a pair of heavily modified war robots shimmering into view, each one holding an extremely large weapon trained on her back – one a krogan graal spike thrower, the other some kind of rechambered shotgun with a faintly glowing ammo block that she knew was probably anti-biotic in nature.

Telanya's smile was as cold as Liara's. "There's also a voice activated pulse dissipater built into the floor and we've both trained very hard on how to fight without any biotics, just in case that's what it takes to kill Tetrimus." The clanless's eyes narrowed. "Liara _may_ hesitate to kill you. I will not. Get out and back to Aethyta."

The sheer frustrated rage in that quiet voice didn't alarm Tela so much as depress her. She merely nodded and headed back out the doors, waiting until she was in her aircar and airborne to tap her omni.

"Auntie, this is your favorite niece. I've met them. They want us to meet with everyone – she gave us a location point, I'll tell you when I get there. Have the ship ready to move."

Aethyta's voice was slightly alarmed. _"I'm guessing they shit on the idea of just leaving?"_

Tela sighed. "They're not even considering it. Maybe you can talk them out of it but they barely tolerated me and had me dead-bang the whole time in the meeting. These aren't frightened little kids, Auntie."

Aethyta's hard laughter was tinged with bitterness. _"No shit, kiddo. Head on back, I'll get the girls loaded up and we'll pick up firstmeal along the way."_

**O-TWCD-O**

Matriarch Trellani's eyes were cool and narrowed as she sat in the rear of the rented aircar, the heavy bulk of Jason Dunn driving the vehicle along the already crowded Nos Astra aerolanes as the sun began to rise. The explosions scattered about the city and the constant stream of gunships engaging rioting asari only made her lips quirk in bitter amusement.

The aircar soared over the outer sections of the city, the fab-blocks and wide aerolanes glittering with lights slowly fading as the sun rose, now occluded here and there with blocks of the Republican Guard and angry shouting clanless. This was in microcosm what she feared – that eventually the Thirty's endless quest for dominance and security would overcome any actual ideals of protectiveness, and the clanless and the clans would pay in slavery or blood.

Or _worse_.

She gritted her teeth, then let the feeling go, focusing instead on a calming ritual she'd learned in the Temple. The words slipped silently from her lips as she prepared for the day's events, her hand resting gently on the cool metal of her warp sword. She knew that there was a very good chance that she might die today, with her long-term goals unmet and her beloved family unavenged. If the day went poorly enough, Cerberus's goal itself might fail, and the Reapers would be unopposed.

Yet she found herself more tired than worried.

Everything that could be prepared was, including a long video for Jack, a collection of her knowledge for Shepard, sealed messages for a few trustworthy souls inside the Asari Republic, and a sixty-petabyte suicide file that would be burst transmitted by Vigil if she were murdered by justicars or Broker minions today. There was no guarantee the asari people would believe her words but she would not slip silently into the waters of oblivion without a final defiant shout.

As for her own knowledge, she'd recorded her own manifesto some time ago and would let Jack decide when to distribute it. She'd taught what few unique moves in blade dancing that she'd created to Shepard, written a final infuriating set of texts regarding asari culture for Minsta and his vapid daughter, and trusted Miranda's greed and jealousy enough to know that if she died Jack would still have someone he could trust in his bed.

All that remained was to, as the ever-crude but often oddly wise Dunn put it, roll the dice and see what came up. She finished her meditative focus and leaned back a bit in the comfortable leather of the seat, eyes moving over the serried and endless ranks of glittering buildings and needle-thin arching towers that comprised the city center of Nos Astra.

Commoners they might be, but the asari of Ilium had created a mighty edifice. She briefly wondered what the Republic and the asari people might have been like free of the cruelty and manipulation of the Thirty, then shook her head at such daydreams.

The time for that was later, if she survived. Now it was time for her to do what she did best: swim the seas of treachery, death, and misdirection. She touched the comm-link lead surgically implanted into her jawline, making it look as if she was merely rubbing her chin, her hand concealing her lips. "Lion, this is Priestess. Coming up on the building. Final report?"

The hard voice of Petrovsky answered her. "You appear to be clear of any tailing elements, Priestess. I wish you luck and you know what to do if things go off script. The support teams are already on the planet and the HAMMER team is ready to drop." His use of the code word for the ATLAS mechs, and their calls signs, was to avoid any clear grasp of who they were or what their forces were to any hackers or eavesdroppers. Ilium, after all, was well known for such things.

She nodded to herself. "And the ETA of the Party Train?" She still found the codename of Shepard's group – thought up by the biotic girl, Jack – to be amusing for reasons she didn't bother examining.

His voice dropped. "ETA until the rest of the party train arrives is less than six hours. I'm also inbound with the other five heavy units and the other HAMMER team, along with a large number of war mechs – we will be in system in one hour." There was a pause, then he spoke again. "The second group of teams and the mechs are going to be easily identified as our organization and HAMMER is likely to definitely create a level of, shall we say, consternation – so be aware of that if you call them down.

She smiled. "Hopefully I will not. But perhaps it is time this hound left the shadows and stepped fully into the light, Lion. I will contact you with additional developments as they occur."

He clicked off and she nodded to herself as she took a deep breath, even as Dunn's scarred hands tapped skillfully over the controls of the aircar. "Coming up on the South Silver tower. Docking port is... open, but there's an aircar there..." His eyes narrowed. "Picking up some comm chatter – local police are dealing with some kind of disturbances in the lower city. Not rioting yet, but definitely fighting."

Trellani's eyes narrowed further but she merely nodded. "Disturbances only provide us more cover for what we plan. As for the visitor... well, they _are_ data brokers, Mr. Dunn. I would expect their most… exclusive clientele at firstmeal as most asari prefer to eat whilst doing business. Set us down and await my signal, in the event that I need your help."

He nodded, then chuckled as the aircar on the landing pad departed. "Looks like we're clear Matriarch. Here we go."

The aircar came down smoothly, the gleaming silver and blue machine settling onto the blackened non-skid surface of the landing pad without even a slight jostling, even as the wing-doors scissored open. Dressed in a heavy gray form-fitting dress, slit to the hip to reveal black boots, Trellani hung her sword on its black and gold baldric before adjusting her shawl and her ever-present Cerberus pin.

Her steps toward the single rooftop entry were calm and confident, but her senses were as alert as they could be. She came to the door and entered the simple code she'd been given by the Vantirus Sisters, then waited a few seconds before the speaker-box on the wall blared with sound.

_"Vantirus Information Systems."_

Trellani's voice was as calm as she could make it. "My name is Cora Harper, with BenCore Industries. I believe I had an appointment at firstmeal."

The voice on the other end of the comm sounded tired and somehow uncomfortable. _"Yes, of course. I'm afraid we have some issues of concern in the city – come in."_ The door gave a heavy thunk as it unlocked. _"There is a lift at the end of the corridor you will enter, it will bring you to floor nineteen. Our offices are directly across from the lift lobby."_

Trellani inclined her head and opened the thick, heavy steel door. She immediately noted both the wide-band scanners inset into the walls, tastefully concealed by araki wood paneling, and the blunt, blackened steel dome of a security turret in the ceiling. She walked along the thickly carpeted floor and entered the lift.

She pressed the button for nineteen, the glass and brushed steel doors shutting behind her, and the lift descended quickly. She had no idea who would be in the office or why the information brokers thought she would be of use, but she loosened her warp sword in its scabbard and tapped her comm-link again.

"Be ready. There may be a complication. Stand by for data tap."

She triggered the comm-link's recording functions and set it to burst transmit if her vital signs faltered or if she spoke a codeword, as the lift doors opened. As promised, directly across from the lift was a pair of frosted glass doors set into steel and wooden paneling, the neat old asari script on them reading 'Vantirus Information' in a touch of the fashions of another time.

She walked across the lobby and opened the door, stepping into a fairly small but well appointed waiting area. Three couches, black leather, dominated the walls, flanked by small flame-trees in black ceramic pots. A piece of bizarre Prothean stone stelae dominated the walls above the couches, while the far wall was pierced by a security door and an inset window to one side with a mech.

The mech was clean and a newer model, one designed for both security and reception work, and as she came in, it spoke in a quiet voice. "Ms. Harper, the sisters will see you now. Please go through the door and enter the main conference room on your left."

Not bothering to respond, she followed the instructions, the security door retracting out of the way. The corridor beyond was done in flat gray paneling, dark gray carpeting, and opened out into a common area with several circular workspaces and a wall dominated by multiple data and news feeds. The dim lighting and gray atmosphere gave it a drowsy, almost depressing air.

The door to the right was also done in black and frosted glass, and was ajar. She pushed through it, coming into another room. Circular in shape, the far wall was armaglass, giving a broad view of the Ilium skyline that faded as she entered, the glass becoming frosted and opaque.

Two slender asari sat at one end of the table. One was much taller than the other, a single eye occluded by a glowing orange cybernetic fixture set in silver, and both of them had their faces concealed by thin, silken facial masks that meshed with the black shawls they wore. Their clothing was darkly functional – black armaweave bodysuits, black leather boots, and loose sleeves.

The taller one spoke first. "Cora Harper? That was the best name you could come up with, Matriarch?" Her voice was cool and precise, but had an edge to it that Trellani suspected was nervousness.

So, she had not been forgotten by the asari, even crazy ones. Good.

Still, she distrusted everything, and her senses were on edge for some reason. As a precaution, Trellani sent out a very subtle biotic pulse, one that barely affected the air… but revealed two cloaked forms to either side of the room.

Trellani eyed them dubiously, then rolled her head to smile at the pair. "I do not think additional security is needed for one tired old matriarch. As for the name, well, the man who chose it is... persuasive. And sadly maudlin."

The shorter of the two gave her a dark glare, but spoke. "Decloak." Two heavy war robots shimmered into view, each holding a heavy weapon trained on her.

She kept her voice light and amused, even as her hand prepared to fall into a draw and slash. "Is this how you treat all of your prospective clients?"

The taller of the two gave a very subtle human-style shrug, the motion looking odd on her frame. "Not at all... Matriarch Trellani. You will, of course, pardon the saying that one does not taunt a nexa without consequences. Your exploits are well known... as is your hatred of the Thirty. I am merely being prudent."

The matriarch's estimation of the girl rose slightly, if she was this steady in the face of her own reputation. It was clear the taller one was of the Thirty, which probably meant the shorter one was some clan or clanless adoptee... a rare situation.

Off the top of her head, she couldn't think of any of the Thirty who would fit – or lower themselves, rather – to the role of information broker. She shrugged, instead, and replied in a calm voice.

"That of course is expected... although it does beg the question, if you are so worried about my... exploits, why you even agreed to meet at all. One might even question what _you_ want out of this meeting."

The taller one again answered. "I suspect, Matriarch, that what we want in the face of your own power is somewhat academic if it does not fall in line with your expectations."

The matriarch gave a dark, bitter laugh. "That is a fine verbal parry, child. Now, answer the question."

The shorter of the two spoke, her voice rougher and lower, her diction less precise. "Our primary client is looking for all the help they can get. We are only here to hear you out. We have had some minor dealings with Cerberus in the past few years, and our... primary client is not antagonistic towards the Illusive Man so much as they are utterly opposed to the Broker. That being said, we also have certain... issues with Cerberus."

Trellani gave a cautious nod. "If you have issues, why reach out to us? Certainly there must be other, less contentious groups."

The shorter one gave a bitter chuckle. "Lack of options, maybe. Or more likely, Cerberus is such an unlikely choice that we hope it won't be predicted. But no matter our decisions, our reasons for choosing Cerberus are simple."

The taller one picked up the sentence, single good eye narrowing. "First, the situation on Ilium has destabilized to the point that if we do not act now, we will not have a chance to do so in the future. Given what we have discovered about the Broker Network and its ultimate goals – and his definite connections to the Collectors – we feel having allies in this will only protect us and our principal client down the line." She made a gesture of siari unity. "Seeing as Cerberus is the only group who seems to grasp the connection between the Broker and Collectors, it would be easier to gain your aid than any other group."

She paused. "And the second reason we reached out is that the Sisters of Vengeance – who your Butcher has mentioned several times and who Cerberus has been asking about – might also be open to such alliances... and we would be rewarded for providing such."

Trellani's gaze strayed to the window as she considered their words, then back to the two data brokers again. "That is, I suppose fair. But I fail to see how I – and Cerberus – fit into this. The concern of the organization I represent is to secure the _lives_ of the Sisters of Vengeance. I will certainly admit the Collectors are a problem we are dealing with, but we can't do it if we're distracted with fighting for our lives."

She gave them a cool smile. "No matter what you might gain from such a thing, a fight with the Broker on Ilium would attract a great deal of attention that _we_ do not want. Becoming involved with the political antics of Ilium – and I assure this, what is happening right now with the justicars is intensely political – is something we definitely neither desire nor have the resources for."

She straightened. "And frankly, we have more dangerous enemies out there than the Broker – _or_ the Collectors – to fight. I suspect that the Thirty already suspect my connection to Cerberus. Giving them a firm reason to oppose us only makes our final goals harder to reach."

The taller of the two sisters spoke. "We are aware of that... at least, that a fight would attract attention." She inclined her head. "The Sisters of Vengeance are our primary clients. We know Cerberus and the Broker are at odds, and thus potential allies to us."

Trellani kept her expression neutral. "No doubt. And their goal, these Sisters? We are unclear as to their ultimate targets, given their rather lax approach to collateral damage."

The taller one again gave a very human-seeming shrug, looking strange on the asari. Trellani filed that tidbit of a clue away even as she listened. "Coming from you, Matriarch, that borders on either ironic comedy or perhaps hypocrisy."

Trellani's expression slipped into a faint, crooked grin. "Or admiration for the madness of another? I do not condemn them. It is hard to complain about their methods when I have done worse."

The Vantirus Sisters glanced at each other almost uncertainly before the tall one continued. "That may be so. I _can _say that their goal is ultimately the destruction of the Broker, but there are intermediate steps, key among them is divining his location. They are of the belief that if they appear openly where the Broker's last people are operating from, they can draw out the lieutenant known as Tetrimus, who arrived today with a number of Broker assassination and combat teams."

The shorter tapped her omni-tool. "Tetrimus is confirmed to be one of a very small number of Broker personnel who know the location and defenses of the Broker's base that isn't equipped with some kind of neural bomb. He's also critical in projecting the Broker's power. We have a very narrow window in which the Sisters are certain that – based on combat simulations if they approach with proper caution – there is a very good chance of subduing him long enough for a mind rip."

The matriarch's muted sneer was echoed in her voice. "Many – including myself – have set their hand against the Broker, only to fail. The goal is indeed one we share, but we must be realistic about the chances. And that mind-rip technique is far more complex than you think, young ones."

The taller one gave a half-mocking bow. "Of course. We do not plan to do such a thing ourselves, and nor do the sisters. We have at least one matriarch who is very experienced at such things... and, of course, you yourself may be the finest practitioner of the mental arts in centuries. One reason the Republic fears you so much?"

Trellani let her hand relax. "My main concern is direct contact with the Sisters of Vengeance. While Cerberus also wishes the Broker network destroyed and one of my principal combatants is out for his blood directly... the situation, as you pointed out, on Ilium isn't conducive to long operations. Direct contact would allow us to make our offer: sanctuary, allies, a secure base of operations, unlimited funding, complete access to the Cerberus Network's intelligence, and a military strike group under the Butcher which has already proven its power."

The taller asari folded her arms, her body language closed. Trellani found the pair and their reactions curious. They had not offered their names, their families, or even chathesi tea or food. While she knew Ilium asari were often said to be different, the ones she had interacted with had clung more strongly to the old ways, as if to prove they were 'real' asari too.

These two did not fit, somehow. She dismissed this gut feeling and focused on the words the tall one spoke, after a few moments of consideration.

"While I hesitate to speak for our clients directly, I can say all of that is very attractive in terms of going after the Broker. But to the best of our knowledge, Cerberus has had no success in determining the Broker's location."

Trellani nodded grudgingly. "That is correct. We have, however, not really focused on looking since our group has been resurrected, along with other concerns." She made a sign of siari unity. "I'm confident with your own knowledge and that of the Sisters of Vengeance, we could localize him soon enough. The offer to the Sisters also applies to you two, should you wish to continue."

The two glanced at each other, before the taller one spoke again. "While such an option is certainly tempting, it clashes with our already established operational timeline, I suspect. The Sisters have already begun gathering forces for their final strike – the kickoff for this is in roughly three to four hours."

Trellani winced. Shepard and her much more powerful forces wouldn't be here for six hours. That meant she had Dunn, ten teams of Centurions, half in Cerberus armor, and twenty ATLAS mechs, also clearly Cerberus units. Running the odds in her head, that wouldn't be enough to wipe the Broker's teams off the map – maybe not even enough to break into the Dantius Towers.

Although, given the chaos in the streets… sacrificing them would make a fine diversion, albeit one she doubted Jack or Petrovsky would approve of.

She inhaled. "And your forces for this plan? How long will it take to execute?"

The shorter asari's mask twitched in what Trellani suspected was a smirk. "Assuming our plan goes off, it would just take a few hours. The Broker is being hosted at Dantius Towers, and is in the process of smuggling her off-world. They're busy hunting the Sisters, but they don't know we have a group of angry Remembrance Dancers and possibly a group of the Black Blades to assist in taking them down."

Trellani's eyes widened. "The Black Blades. There is a name I have not heard in a very long time. For them to emerge now, child, is rather… unusual. I would almost ask what would bring them to _you _since their loyalty was, after all to the Black Blade of the Vasir, who perished on Omega."

The two asari said nothing, only gave small shrugs. The taller one spoke after a moment. "If your people are interested, then they can meet with the rest at the following location : Niethar Waveway, 49-sienla-5. We'll be launching in, as I said, three to four hours."

Trellani sighed. "While I do have some combat assets on hand, we have additional strike teams on the way. The complication is that they won't arrive for roughly six hours – is there no way to delay this?"

The shorter one shook her head. "No. It's too risky to try and reschedule shit at the last minute, Matriarch. Besides, who could actually be coming that would make a difference?"

Trellani smiled. "The Butcher and the Archangel."

The taller of the two asari seemed to be lost in thought, then shook her head abruptly. "No, we cannot wait, and in any event we have no time – in six hours I'm sure the Broker's forces will be on the hunt themselves. If they show up they can assist in extracting our clients."

Trellani nodded at this, then inclined her head. "I need a moment to contact my people. Is that acceptable?"

The shorter one's folded arms rose in a shrug. "You can... but why not just tell them on the way back?"

Trellani's smile widened. "Because, young ones, I will be going with you to meet the Sisters." She had a suspicion the division between the Vantirus Sisters and the Sisters of Vengeance was just a cover, and in any event she didn't see the point of dropping with a pile of human mercenaries onto a planet where literally every asari who saw her would want her dead on sight.

The shorter one's eyes narrowed. "Any reason why?"

Trellani gave an elegant shrug of her own. "Mostly because I think it is very likely something may spin out of control here before your strike is ready, and I do not wish to be out of place at that time. But also because the Justicar Order is out in force and you would have a better idea of how to move safely through the city than I. For obvious reasons I do not wish to be... detained."

The taller one's gaze never left hers. "...I see. That is wise. And yes, you can communicate with your allies. I trust you do not mind if we listen in?"

"Not at all." Trellani tapped her hidden comm-link again. "Lion, this is Priestess. Deployment status, please. I'm currently with the Vantirus Sisters and the timeline has shifted."

Petrovsky's voice was crisp and clear over her comm-link, clearly relaying his muted frustration. "Teams are on the ground but my heavy assets in orbit are going to be difficult to deploy without attracting a lot of attention, Priestess. Secondaries will be on station in less than half an hour, but as I mentioned earlier they aren't... decorated correctly."

Trellani's expression didn't waver. "Good. Have your men on the ground rendezvous with me and allied forces in two hours, fifty minutes at the following address : Niethar Waveway, 49-sienla-5. That is, I believe, in the industrial sector."

"Understood, Priestess. And the party train?"

She grimaced. "Inform the party train the party is going to be starting without them and to expect... trouble. Even more trouble than we expected. This is going to be a mess."

Petrovsky's voice held muted amusement. "So, given our operations thus far, nothing out of the ordinary."

**O-TWCD-O**

The main Eclipse forces pulled out of Ilium long ago, but fragmented remnants of the gang remained on Ilium, intermixing aimlessly with other asari criminal elements. They rarely if ever, of course, preyed on other asari – most of their targets were the many aliens who worked, lived, and traveled to Ilium for business or pleasure. They enjoyed their freedoms, both from most legal oversight and from Sederis, and were ready for a fight.

Thus the justicars that smashed through the Cansa Residential block weren't expecting dug in gang-bangers. The firefight that erupted was surprisingly vicious for asari-on-asari combat. The local Eclipse leader, a ragged ex-clan member known as Vivta, triggered explosives rigged with shrapnel along the side of the abandoned warehouses that the Republican Guard column marched down – the only real access to the interior of the block.

The trap had originally been set up to stop other gangs, but that didn't reduce its efficiency.

The explosions tore through the ranks, killing dozens and crippling more. Debris pinged harmlessly off of the barrier field of the justicar in charge who answered with a sun-bright flare of biotic power that blew apart the nearest building with shooters inside to burning wreckage. The resulting exchange of blasts and counter blasts reduced most of another warehouse that had been converted into an apartment block full of innocents didn't stop either side.

In seconds, gangers swarmed from the roofs, firing and flinging grenades, while more poured out of the warehouses on either side, establishing a vicious crossfire. Unused to direct resistance, the Justicar Commander hesitated – and in that moment, a sniper hit her with an anti-biotic round that shattered her barriers, as a second one sighted in on her head.

The Guard forces panicked when the justicar's head came apart in splashes of purple and chunks of meat, shifting from suppressive and incapacitating fire to heavy weapons. Dozens of blasts rang out in all directions, military power rifles punching through the flimsy armor and poor kinetic barriers or shaky barriers of the gangers.

The Guard Commander reported a justicar had been slain on the open channel, rather than the secure line to the Hunter's Circle Commander. By the time things had been sorted out, the Guard units had slaughtered everything in the immediate area, including dozens of civilians, and the rest of the justicar force in orbit, not deployed at the outset so as to not unduly panic Ilium's Court of Corporations, dropped in righteous fury.

Sixty-seven justicars and over fifty trainees, disembarked at the capital and began the process of establishing martial law, as the fleet commander ignored orders from the Hunter's Circle and following Justicar Samara's instructions, dropped another fifteen thousand troops on the ground.

The effect was like dumping nitroglycerin onto a raging fire.

Three of the CEOs of the court angrily demanded the 'invading forces' stand down, and when they did not had their own private security forces armor up and get ready for a fight. Two more sent hired assassins to the GTS control tower, slaughtering the Republican Guard there who'd taken command of it to prevent 'incidents' and then fortified themselves within, backed up by a trio of tanks and heavy battle-suits.

Hackers and troublemakers spread the reports and twisted the truth on the extranet, and more gangers and angry – or scared – clanless 'defense militias' hastily assembled, and prepared to fight.

Angry communications from the Court and the Fleet Commander, interspersed with various icy threats from Justicar Samara, did little to alleviate the problem. Nassana Dantius was nowhere to be found, with her people reporting she'd fled the planet with P. of all people.

The first serious fight erupted at the main bridge across the river that bisected the city, just as Justicar Vhira had indicated. The Republican Guard advanced in echelon formations, rank upon rank of Spear of Athame rifles leveled as the commandos in the middle ranks began firing sniper rifles and hurling biotics. The back ranks erected barriers and walls, deflecting any incoming fire and answering heavier impacts with warp blasts and flares.

Barring their way was a mix of mercenaries, civilians, criminals, gangers, and a handful of light security mechs. While the civilians' fire was wild and ineffective and their positions taken more out of convenience than tactical planning, the mercenaries presented a stiffer and harder target. These were not rent-a-cops or low-grade fodder but veterans, and were mostly composed of a mix of turian and asari merc units, intermixed with the occasional human or salarian. They had faced asari in combat before.

But they had not faced _justicars_.

As the lead elements of the Guard stepped onto the bridge, the red-suited forms of the justicars burst ahead, flashing through the sword kanquess to hit the defensive mercenary line in a burst of blinding blue fires. Trained to exhaustion for decades, each justicar hit the ground at nearly the same moment, immediately pushing out shockwaves, followed by shrapnel grenades.

The merc lines crumbled inwards in a moment, lightly-built salarians flying through the air while heavier turians stumbled and lost their footing. Grenade explosions tore through them a split-second later, white-hot shrapnel pinging off of stronger kinetic shields or shredding those it hit. The justicars wasted no time – three of them linked hands, while the rest flung out blades of force and flares.

The civilians that lived through the initial fusillade didn't even have time to reposition before their world exploded. The entire far side of the bridge lit up in a hellish explosion of blue-white light and several older buildings on either side of the street collapsed. Choking clouds of obscuring smoke went up, while warpfire raced over the mercenaries and the gangers behind them, burning and searing. Dozens went down in seconds, screaming in agony as their armor melted to their bodies.

The justicars did not relent as they walked forward in eerie, calm silence, firing their shotguns. With the bridge clear the Guard marched across swiftly, firing to suppress the other forces rushing to reinforce the few survivors at the bridge. Massed rapid plasma fire from the Guard's heavy weapons teams raked the scattering forces, preventing them from reforming any kind of defensive position. Still, a stubborn core of mercs hung on to their positions, well aware of the fact that with the planet blockaded there was nowhere to run.

Samara herself, hands linked with two of the Everchosen, priestess-justicars, opened her pale gray eyes and gave a calm, sad smile before she pulsed her biotics.

A field of writhing white light rushed forward in a growing semicircle, and as it hit the mercenaries the screams of agony that rose from their ranks redoubled. Turians and asari, salarians and humans – everything the wave hit fell to the ground, writhing in unspeakable pain as electrical charges ground out in their nervous systems. The few who escaped it ran, only to be blasted down by additional bolts of warpfire.

Samara's voice was calm. "Feel the wrath of Athame, and find mercy and peace in her embrace." She focused and the light intensified, and then the dying mercenaries began exploding into clouds of burning warpfire.

Not everyone hit by the wave detonated, but dozens of them did so. Some came apart in swirls of blue warpfire, others blew apart in cascades of smoking flesh and blood. Warp energies lashed across those standing or fallen nearby, burning and killing as it spread.

In less than two minutes, five hundred and eleven mercenaries and gangers were dead with a hundred more wounded. The Republican Guard did not even slow their march as they tramped across the smoking, befouled duraplast plaza pausing only to shoot the few survivors clinging to life as they passed or to use biotics to shove blackened and charred bodies or piles of smoking armor and the wreckage of flesh inside out of the way.

Camera drones high above sent their images to the rest of the galaxy who could only watch in horror as the Guard began firing high-explosives into the hab-blocks surrounding the far side of the river, clearing an area for more forces to land unopposed. When the first battle-suits and heavier mercenary forces began approaching from the city center a few minutes later the justicars were already prepared.

**O-TWCD-O **

Strike Trooper Marcus Nozno watched the data feed in disgust. An asari woman was fleeing down a side-street, carrying a pair of children – a small asari child, and a small human girl. A human male was following her, a pistol in his hand, looking over his back.

A second later a storm of plasma bolts hit the man, incinerating his back and leg. He fell to the ground, dead, and the asari stopped in horror. A bolt of warpfire hit her and the children dead on, and all that was left a few seconds later was burning cloth and bones.

"This is BULLSHIT, sir. Why are they just shooting civvies? And why the fuck are we just standing here?"

Centurion Leader Patrick Vask gritted his teeth. "We have our orders. As messed up as this is, we have bigger things to worry about. We're not here to defend a bunch of blues, Nozno. Until we get the word–"

"Fuck that. I didn't sign up with the Dog because I fucking like blues or spikes, but this is… sick. They're just burning and shooting everything that even moves. Humans are dying out there, and kids, and… FUCK!" The heavily built man in hastily painted black armor smashed his fist into the nearby wall of the abandoned warehouse.

The others in the team looked a mix of pissed, upset, or faintly sick. Vask knew this was going to end badly. They'd expected things to maybe go hot with the Broker, not for the asari version of the Commissars to have a goddamned grilling contest with little kids and civilians.

The data feed showed a small asari child crawling away from another scene of murder, burns across her chest and face, who reached out for her dead mother. The latter didn't move, and the small child fell back, crying. A moment later an asari in red armor walked up to the child and, with casual ease, used biotics to snap her neck.

"For fuck's sake, man!"

Vask closed his eyes and tapped his comm-link. "Fox to Lion, come in."

Petrovsky's clipped voice sounded. "This is Lion."

"Sir… this shit the justicars are doing—"

Petrovsky's voice hardened. "_I'll stop you right there, Fox. I know. It's sickening to watch. But if we go active now, we're throwing away any support for our big hitters when they show up to go after the real target. We don't have the manpower to stop this travesty_."

Vask looked at the datafeed again. Civilians – asari, humans, salarians, even a quarian – were firing back at a group of heavy Republican Guard soldiers, who were shielded by a biotic field that deflected most of their fire. Asari commandos flashed in via kanquess behind the civilians, lashing out with warpfire that killed the quarian and most of the salarians in a flash. A turian leapt atop one of the commandos, tearing open her throat with his claws before two more commandos shot him dead, riddling his body with dozens of flechette rounds.

Nozno shook his head. "Sir...what the fuck do we even stand for? Is it the protection of humanity? Because there are humans out there being gunned the fuck down by alien monsters. From down here, not much difference between a human kid and an asari one. And we both know if we dropped the HAMMER teams, twenty of them would turn this stupid pack of blues into dogfood."

Petrovsky was silent for several seconds before speaking. "_Your team will remain in place. Priestess is moving and will message you shortly, your orders are to protect her life and follow her orders. I will contact both the Party Train and the Big Man and… express your issues. Lion out._"

Vask sighed, and spat. "The general is gonna ask, but we're ordered to follow the orders of Trellani."

One of the other men, a heavy weapons gunner named Green, gave a hard laugh. "Well, that bitch hates asari even more than we do, sir. Can't really see her letting us cut loose." He watched a justicar get blown apart by massed fire from several humans and gave a savage smile. "Cowards, all of them. Who the fuck goes after civvies with gunships and fucking war priestesses?"

Vask squared his shoulders. "Remember that, men, when someone starts talking shit about the Dog. Aliens ain't no better...and this clusterfuck? This is some bullshit. If the boss okays it, I'm thinking maybe twenty ATLAS suits can stop this nightmare long enough for the Ilium mercs to get their lines together."

"And when the Butcher gets here, sir?"

Vask smiled. As one of the most senior Centurions, he knew exactly who the Butcher really was. "Oh, then you are gonna see something to behold, boys. You think this pisses you off? She's gonna fucking flip out and make what she did on Umlor look like a goddamned back rub."

Nozno nodded. "Irony, asari killing asari over killing asari. Fuck."

**O-TWCD-O**

"Pressly, ETA to arrival?"

Shepard sat calmly in her personal quarters checking over her armor one last time before she would don it. The _Normandy_ had set out at top speed to reach Ilium shortly after Matriarch Trellani, but had been slightly delayed.

The Illusive Man had just QEC'd her, informing her that the Vantirus Sisters had declined to wait for her arrival. According to them a plan – with various allies – was already in place to take down and capture Tetrimus and force the Broker's location from his mind.

Based on what Shepard had read about Tetrimus, and her own experiences, she didn't have a lot of faith in the Sisters of Vengeance pulling that shit off. Given that the fucker had turned her own team and some of Cerberus's own badasses into hamburger by himself the only good thing about the Sisters trying to take him down was maybe they'd take his combat edge off or even wound him before dying horribly.

Pressly's voice sounded stiff and tired, probably because he'd been scrambling like a madman to get the ship back into fighting trim on short notice from the beating they'd taken at Horizon. "_Just under three hours, ma'am. Latest news reports show the fighting is getting a lot worse – the asari are dropping additional storm-level units on the ground_." He paused, his voice troubled. "_The images coming in are… pretty bad, ma'am_."

Shepard grimaced. A Guard storm was roughly equivalent to an Alliance battalion, around ten thousand soldiers. If things had gotten to the point where fighting required full out military force already, God knew how it would end up. "Understood, XO. That's all."

She clicked off, rubbing the back of her head as she took in the heavy suit of armor spread out on her bed. She didn't like the sound of Pressly's voice when he said the images were bad, and she was almost scared to turn on the data feed repeater and load up things from the extranet. Trudy had already made it clear, in her final briefing before they launched, that the Thirty were likely going to turn Ilium into a bloodbath. The whys didn't matter to Shepard. All that mattered was, yet again, vile assholes were murdering innocents for some fucked up 'higher ideals.'

She was about to get back to running diagnostics to distract herself when her door chimed. "Enter."

Garrus stepped through, wearing another black and silver jumpsuit. "Miranda said you'd holed up in here. I was watching the Ilium feeds… the justicars have lost their entire minds. Figured I'd swing by, see how you were holding together before this next vakar-pit we're about to jump into, because it already looks nasty."

Shepard snorted. "I've got a bad feeling about this trip, Chicken, no shit. Ilium is about to blow the fuck up – or is already blowing up – and we're going to be at ground zero, yay. There's enough ships, troops, and badasses down there that us going in will just make shit worse, and the stuff I'm hearing makes me think the Thirty just turned the justicars loose and told them to go to town on the place."

He nodded. "Ilium is almost as messed up as Omega, in some ways. They dress it up a lot and keep it out of the public eye, but that doesn't make it any _better_." He flicked a mandible. "Part of me says cleaning up the criminals and what not is always a good thing… but most of me knows the justicars tend to see 'justice' as 'kill everything in the area' and a lot of people whose only crime was living in the wrong place at the wrong time are going to suffer."

She snorted. "The Thirty need to stop imitating the fucking Alliance." She ran a hand through her hair. "Problem is, whatever is going down there, I won't be able to stop it. It pisses me off, but I'm more worried about our job. How bad will it be? I wish we had a mission sometimes where I_ didn't_ walk into a goddamned mess."

He sat down on the couch, flicking a mandible in amusement. "I'm sorry, but that was always how things were in the good old days and nothing I saw on Omega or Horizon seems to have changed that. I can't remember a single time we did a combat drop that didn't immediately go directly to a pile of steaming vakar shit." He tilted his head. "So what's really eating you?"

She flopped down on the bed, hands in her lap. "All kinds of things. Thinking about Horizon. Wondering if I'll have to write these people off like I did the Horizoners. Remembering Liara. Wondering if I'm already forgetting her. Wondering if what we're doing is even going to fix shit...or just make things worse."

Garrus grunted. "You doubt yourself that much?"

She waved a hand in an irritated, vague gesture towards the back of the ship, which amused Garrus. "It's not doubt so much as… uncertainty. About where I stand. Talking to Kelly makes my head hurt, talking to TIM makes me want to punch him even though he's right. I feel like crap for having to run out on those poor bastards on Horizon, and look at me – feeling sorry for myself when they're the ones who got incinerated."

Garrus nodded slowly. "...for a while, I was worried that it didn't seem to bother you. But you've gotten better at keeping your feelings hidden. And it's harder to pick up on your emotions via smell."

She shrugged. "I felt so fucking angry that I didn't think about what happened on a larger scale until later." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, then ran her hand through her hair. "And how fucked up is that?"

Garrus shrugged. "It's not fucked up. Not really, Sheep. Melenis pointed out to me not too long ago that I was the same way when I... recovered. So angry about Tel, so wanting to hit back at the Broker that I didn't see or care what the Angels were trying to do to help people." He shifted a bit. "I got better. You will too. It's not easy... or quick."

He leaned forward. "But more than that? We had no idea _what_ we were heading into. If we'd known they had star killing tork-shit, we'd have done more than stood around filling our gizzards. Even _Pressly_ didn't foresee that, and we both know he thinks of everything." He leaned back. "You can't get them all perfect."

She gave a twitch of a smile. "I know. But losing three of my marines was a wake-up call. Not that I haven't lost before... but just having more resources doesn't mean we're going to win."

Garrus said nothing for a moment, then bowed his head slightly. "You may be right. I won't knock the resources – if I had Cerberus backing on Omega, I could have cleaned the station out. But you need to look at the long run. We're going to lose more, Sara. A _lot_ more. The Collectors? Bad enough. But you and I both know they're just flunkies. When the Reapers do show up in force... Spirits, I can't even imagine how many will die."

Her voice sank to a whisper. "I can. I saw it, in the Beacon. Entire worlds set on fire, Garrus, or blasted to... chunks of rock. Endless black things in the sky, thousands, tens of thousands. And every kind of fucked up corruption you can imagine of the Protheans. They turned the _kids _into husks."

She shook her head to clear it. "And this is the shit the fucking Broker is probably doing business with, if TIM is right."

Garrus gave a careful smile. "I think the only thing you can do is prepare as much as you can, then go with the flow of whatever happens. If we can take down the Broker and show the Reapers are an imminent threat then we can still at least have a chance of putting up a fight."

She opened her mouth to speak when Miranda's voice came across the comm channel. "_Shepard, it's Miranda. There's been a development on Ilium. Someone killed a bunch of justicars with some kind of plasma bomb. The rest of the Asari Second Fleet is on its way to reinforce the part of it currently in orbit, ETA is nine hours. Right now the units on the ground are trying to put the entire world into martial law and have started killing anything and everything that resists_."

She walked over to the comm panel and tapped it. "Understood. Have Tali and Kiala go over the IES system and make sure we're good, and have everyone set for high speed maneuvers before we hit the system."

She clicked off and glanced at Garrus. "This should be fucking fun."

He didn't even bother to shrug, leaning all the way back on the couch. "It can't be any worse than Noveria."

She snorted. "Oh? The _Citadel_ was easier?"

"...Point noted, Sheep."

**O-TWCD-O**

As Aethyta and her team headed towards the rendezvous with Liara, and the Cerberus team on Ilium slowly headed in the same direction, things on Ilium took an immediate turn for the worse.

Rioting in the poorer parts of Nos Astra had become all-out combat with the entire Republican Guard force now outnumbered by mercenary units, gangs, and angry armed civilians. Heavy fighting raged near the river dividing the 'lower' suburbs and the hab-stacks from the 'upper' city and downtown, with hundreds of dead civilians already. Asari extranet casts were in shocked, almost traumatized disbelief – asari did not, under even stressful situations, kill asari.

When the Triune Unity cultists had done so under Benezia it had lead to a backlash that existed to this day. To see such brutal violence openly displayed – and the cruel, often needless heavy weapons fire from the Republican Guard that tore into ranks of screaming asari civilians – was something the asari simply could not process.

And yet, from the media reaction, the clanless of the Republic blamed the people of Ilium rather than the justicars, for the violence.

Torn bodies, stained with purple and faces locked in rictus expressions of agony and fear floated down the river while the lower city burned out of control. Emergency service teams took fire from both sides as asari medics and police attempted to evacuate wounded and civilians only to find that the Republican Guard and the justicars trying to arrest people at the hospitals.

The chaos was total, and the justicar assaults to restore order only seemed to make things worse. To be fair, there were teams of Lifeshaper medics with the Guard that were dealing with the wounded and a handful of cleanup teams in the rear areas were already setting up camps for those made homeless. But, to the eyes of many outsiders, the savage assault on their own world made no sense.

Political commentators made a number of comparisons to the sort of brutal justice the human Commissars usually dealt in, and even called upon the Commissariat to comment. The High Commissar, rather than commenting on the nature of the assault, instead offered the Justicar Order any assistance it might need in recapturing Ilium criminals who might have fled to human space.

The Council of Matriarchs made no attempts to intervene despite heavy media backlash when images of the fighting hit the extranet. Matriarch T'Armal transmitted almost fifty terabytes of evidence showing the corruption of the court, dealings with Aria, and other incriminating evidence, but many media sources pointed out that the fighting wasn't just killing Ilium's criminal rich, but the disadvantaged poor.

No one missed the more subtle message. Cyone, a semi-independent mining colony, cautiously invited the justicars to establish a permanent outpost on the world an hour after images hit the extranet. Tyasis, another independant world, sent communications to the Thirty inquiring about how to go about formally becoming part of the Republic.

The clanless of the Republic also got the intended message and that was what many asari newscasts focused on – despite the brutality and overkill, not a single major clanless leader spoke up in support of Ilium. No protests rang out across Thessia. The clanless simply watched, closed their eyes, and went back to their own lives and problems.

Justicar Mistress Layana refused all media interview requests, instead preparing an entire group of her own ships loaded with almost a hundred more justicars and a dozen war priestesses, to head to the planet.

The Clan Councils could not come to a unanimous agreement that what was happening needed to stop – despite the words of Uressa T'Shora, the Clans eventually put out a statement saying that Ilium's chaos had killed more innocents, especially in the last week, than any justicar action ever could and that hard problems required hard choices.

The remaining CEOs of Ilium's Court of Corporations, finding themselves without any recourse and facing arrest followed by immediate execution, had already sent a direct message to the Citadel, demanding the Citadel enforce their own codes of lawful conduct. Sparatus, keenly aware of the Court's meddling and work with the Volus to destabilize the Hierarchy's economy, had been very pleased when the Council had voted to not get involved and took excessive pleasure in personally messaging the Court of Corporations and cheerily telling them they should have learned the lesson Noveria did about remaining aloof from Citadel law.

The fighting was furious and brutal for many reasons, but most had to do with justicars making things worse. They saw those who lived in close proximity to criminals as enablers. Those who did business with them as patrons. They shot down aliens and maidens and children for no more reason than the Sutra's called for the cleansing of anything that might be guilty rather than allowing innocence to let evil survive.

Their inflexible code – and their mental conditioning that did not allow them to bend – made it impossible to find any kind of coherent compromise that would lead to a cease-fire. Nor did they want one. The Republican Guard, on the other hand, was simply unused to heavy combat – and retaliated in fury as much as fear. Unused to being resisted by civilians, and rarely deployed in heavy urban combat, the disdain they felt for the people of Ilium quickly translated into hate.

The media drones recorded it all – the screams of the Guard as echelons were broken by charging suicide attackers, the howl of plasma blasts searing the air and burning cruel wounds in both sides, the brutal biotic attacks of the justicars that didn't bother to worry about fleeing civilians if even one criminal was brought down in the attack.

The asari had always said their kind did not kill one another. That was proven a lie, as it became clear there was a great deal of long-buried hate between those under the sway of the Thirty and those free of their grip. The latter would not – perhaps could not – imagine living like that again and would rather die than submit.

As the fighting grew more savage, both sides made calls for air support from their ships. The asari fleet itself, still in orbit, had gone to full battle readiness, as had the Ilium defense force – five storm cruisers, a dozen line and battle cruisers, and almost fifty raiders and frigates – had taken up high orbital positions and the GTS arrays on the planet's moons had them locked up. So far, the admiral of the Ilium Defense Committee had refused to pull the trigger, despite screaming demands from the Corporate Court. She knew full well that any fight between her ships and the Second Fleet, in low orbit, would wreck the entire planet just from missed shots and crashing wreckage.

On the other hand, the Second Fleet's valsharess was unwilling to force the IDC's hand. Orbital fire support might be useful, but it would also escalate this far beyond a mere police action into all out warfare...and Ilium's GTS defenses were very strong. When the rest of the fleet arrived she might make an action, but she held her ground for now.

The Broker's teams were already busy. Six kill teams and four heavy combat teams had aided the Ilium Defense Hunter Group in locking down the planetary command center, and more were slowly spreading out, looking for clues to the location of the Sisters of Vengeance.

All of this was merely backdrop to Tazzik, as he entered the crumbling ruins some eighty kilometers outside of Nos Astra. The mossy ground cover of the planet and the strange, sickle shaped trees that layered it thickly were missing here, exposing only barren, ugly brown rock streaked with stains of reddish iron ore here and there.

The ruins were built into the end of a valley, towering peaks extending upwards into the sky like spears, their sides sheer and weathered. Carven statues lined the crumbled old path down the middle of the valley, asari bent into seizas of supplication or reverence, and strange wide panels dug into the rock and filled with thick and ancient asari script.

Three Broker information teams were set up in the valley, mostly exiled quarians and a handful of salarians, but their leader approached Tazzik as he walked up. The figure was an elcor, his hide weathered and his eyes replaced with a band of cybernetics. A pair of drones hovered behind him, lights glinting off the black slicksuit the elcor wore.

"With relief: I am glad you are here, Vorah Tazzik. The thing in the ruins is unsettling." The looming alien used the term of respect among his people, and Tazzik nodded curtly.

"I bet it is. Then again, given what's going on in Nos Astra, I'm not sure which is the safer location. What's the situation and where is Almnrut?"

The elcor turned to face the huge set of carven doors at the end of the valley. "Cautiously: the geth thing is in the ruins themselves. There have been no approaches since we took possession of the site." The elcor paused, then continued. "Worriedly: while we suppressed the teams here, it is unknown if Nassana Dantius kept the site truly secret."

Tazzik's breathing holes contracted in amusement. "I would not bet money on it, Vorah Juhalor. Very well. Have your team pack and burst transmit all we've found, then be ready to pull out quickly. Are the charges already set?"

"With slight trepidation: yes, they are. I am aware of how the Broker operates... but the intel teams here have gathered troubling information. Concern: We are not being liquidated?"

Tazzik clapped a hand on the bigger alien's fore-shoulder. "Not today, at least. We're not P.'s band of fucking savages. We've had to wipe a few teams due to what they discovered, but this..."

He smiled. "No, this we need all the independent verification we can get. We pull out in one hour. Brief your people."

Tazzik turned to the leader of the heavy combat teams he had with him. "Set up at the mouth of the valley, and be ready for anything. The bullshit in the city should keep everyone occupied, but we can't take chances. If not for what we found down here, the Broker would have written this shithole off two years ago, so keep that in mind: fuck up now and you'll WISH you'd get killed."

He turned and headed towards the massive doors, glancing over the ruins themselves, the faint and crumbled signs of settlement and the all-too-familiar looking signs of MHD weapon strikes here and there. They weren't recent...

He reached the doors and pushed them open, the ancient hinges groaning as he did so. The ruins had been old, more than a thousand years old. The Broker was unusual in having teams focused on archaeology but more than once such things had paid off.

The hall beyond the doors was massive. Hewn from the rock by the use of heavy biotics ages ago, the glossy sheen of the rock evidence of the power used, marred here and there by streaks of melted stone and blast impacts of some ancient battle. Tazzik walked slowly down the wide passage, seeing side rooms cut into the hall every fifty or so paces – some collapsed, others open to show nothing but dust and rubble.

The hall opened into a larger, open hemispherical space of titanic proportions, the top of the room lost in shadows. The center of the room was occupied by a floor-to-ceiling pillar of stone, in which were embedded hundreds of greenish-white crystals in a complex pattern. Some glowed faintly, but most were dark.

The chamber had more rooms splitting off from it and the walls were worked in complex stelae like shapes that Tazzik slowly realized were Prothean, not asari. The walls, aside from the stelae, were covered in complex diagrams and scripts showing some form of massive device. He took another step forward and the figure at the center of the room slowly turned.

The broad and powerful shape of the geth warform once known as Prime 302 was, for lack of any other word, battered. Tazzik still felt pride at defeating the giant machine in his battle on the Citadel, but what the Broker had done with it bothered him.

Implanted in the chest of the geth was a dark pyramidal shape, sunk deeply into the material and with veins of ropy black corruption radiating outwards from it. The geth itself was merely a platform for this device, something given to them by the Collectors and carefully isolated. The pyramid itself was unnerving – it was always cold in the area where it was at and some of the Brokers techs had reported hearing voices during the implantation process.

Given what the Network knew about the Reapers, it was hardly a surprise to Tazzik the Broker was not about to keep the thing anywhere near him. The Broker's distrust of such a device and the need for rapidly analyzing what was found on Ilium combined with the available body to produce the single most frightening monstrosity Tazzik had ever seen beyond the Broker himself.

The geth spoke, but not as a geth would. The voice that erupted into the silence was grating yet somehow mocking, a chorus of mistimed grinding gears, and a subsonic tone that made Tazzik's ears and teeth ache and his reflexes quiver.

"You have arrived."

Tazzik nodded cautiously. "We have. I am instructing our data team to withdraw. Did you finish deciphering this... place, Almnrut?"

The geth-thing moved away from the center of the room, which had been hidden behind its bulk. A Prothean beacon stood there, with a wide and complex set of shallow panels full of liquid around it in a semicircle, faint shapes floating above the liquid in Prothean script. "It has been amusing. The asari-servitor creatures plans are laid bare now, and it is... a problem. Not one that cannot be undone, merely yet another annoyance in the path of the Ascent."

Tazzik frowned. From what he understood, the pyramid things were like a remote terminal for a Reaper intelligence. What in the Collapse could be a _problem _to that? "Could you be more specific? Is there an action the Broker Network needs to take?"

The machine looked back at the equipment, then turned back to Tazzik, the geth's baleful glowing eye fixed on him. "No. Organic life is by definition incapable of grasping certain truths until it has elevated itself. The wandering mystic who uncovered these truths fled our agents and was destroyed, but did not comprehend what she had seen. She tried to leave notes and writings of her understandings, but most of them are not a threat."

It extended a hand, and a crack of sound and flash of blackness erupted into the room. Tazzik felt something – a sensation, a pressure – and then the entire plinth and the beacon were simply gone, free floating ashes tumbling to a heat-blackened ground.

"The asari who found her discoveries are too ignorant of the truth to make use of it. The Sethani, however... were more clever than we anticipated. The carvings and instructions here have illuminated their plans."

Tazzik folded his arms. "How?"

Almnrut stomped forward, the heavy Geth Prime frame moving almost sluggishly, as if in protest. "The Sethani left instructions to their chosen pets – the humans and asari – on how to construct certain devices that can... impede... the power of the Ascended Host. These devices are also by their very nature breaches of the Severity."

Tazzik understood that clearly enough. Tetrimus' astronomy teams had seen what was out there in the dark, something eating up entire galaxies at a single go. If Reapers felt the need to hide from such a thing, normal plain old mortals wouldn't have a chance. "Breaching the Severity is what calls that... thing to us?"

Almnrut paused to extend hands towards the panels in the walls, and a moment later the dozens of intricately carved stelae shattered into fragments and dust, cascading down in a shower of rubble. "Yes, that is a simple but accurate assessment. Those you call Inusannon attempted to use such a device and were destroyed. It is a... perversion of technology and the records here indicate the Sethani did not even know how it worked... yet planned for their pets to build it."

Tazzik tilted his head. "And it's taken all this time to figure it out?"

Almnrut walked along the walls, destroying more carvings there. "No. To trace the information. And decipher the blueprints. Dilinaga did not – could not – destroy the Sethani equipment but she did scramble and damage it. I have been examining it – many plans of the Sethani are now laid bare. They were, for mortals, formidable and stubborn."

"Their plan is unlikely to work. But there is information – the blueprint for this device – that must be destroyed. Now I know where the rest of the blueprint is and we can destroy it once and for all."

Tazzik nodded. "And the whole mess with the clans and what not the boss was going on about?"

Almnrut destroyed a final panel. "Pointless. Those the asari call the Clans somehow found this place when this world was used for mining. They kept it secret from the master-class known as the Thirty. They used various political methods to gather information and prepare a revolution against their masters, to reveal this truth."

The prime paused. "The clanless-asari were pawns in this. The clans have realized the truth about their 'goddess' and the Thirty and now some of the clanless know as well. It is... amusing that your cycle may very well destroy itself without the guiding hand of the Ascended."

Tazzik's jaw tightened. "It's that bad?"

Almnrut walked towards him. "The asari goddess was an AI designed to subjugate the asari and turn them into a vanguard method of control, who would worship the Sethani when some of them awoke from suspended animation. That plan has failed... but the Thirty have twisted the conditioning to their own purposes."

Tazzik shook his head. Fucking asari. He sometimes wished the SIX would get off their damned nests and do something about those crazy tramps, or that the Broker would, but no... He cleared his thoughts and gave a grim smile. "Well, that would cause problems, yes. Now what?"

Almnrut said nothing for almost twenty seconds, then shifted its gaze. "I am detecting incoming assault vehicles. The race known as salarians. Comms emissions indicate they are STG."

Tazzik cursed, tapping his omni. "All teams, incoming STG hostiles. Shift to hot." Tapping a different control, he commed Tetrimus. "This is Alpha site, we have Code Five. Repeat, Code Five."

Tetrimus' voice on the comm-link sounded tired. "Understood. Dispatching combat teams. We are preparing at Beta Site."

Tazzik headed for the door. "Can you fight in that thing?"

The geth unit seemed to be considering something. "I am unsure of the effectivity of the unit for combat. However, there is another use it has. This particular class-3 perversion is a linked network. While in order to retain control of the unit I cannot allow it to receive or download... I am not limited in sending."

Tazzik paused. "...Sending what?"

The pyramid in the center of the geth's chest pulsed. "A command to the geth." There was something in the thing's voice that made Tazzik's skin crawl, an amused, almost malicious tone beyond its normal feel of wrongness.

He considered what this might mean and was almost afraid to ask. "...A command to do _what_?"

"Distract. The STG will be here in minutes, organic. I would have your combat units prepare for a fight."

Tazzik frowned. "And how exactly do we get you out of here? That form is not small or inconspicuous."

The pyramid's glow was brighter. "This unit is not needed for further analysis. Nor suited for any other purpose. Inform the Broker that the observers will contact him shortly."

Then the pyramid simply vanished, and the geth Prime unit gave a stricken digital cry and crashed to the ground, unmoving. Tazzik stared at it and sighed, unslinging his lance cannon.

"Well, that probably wasn't a good sign. At least it's the STG and not the fucking _Deathwatch_."


	40. Arc III: Angstrofuck of Doom Pt 2

_**A/N**:_

_The Angstrofuck of Doom continues. I promise the next two chapters are almost all action. As usual, none of this would be possible without the dedicated assistance of the Editing Gang - seriously, you should see these train-wrecks before they get a chance to fix them up! _

_Also as usual, you should check out Aberron's **Living an Indoctrinated Dream.  
**Additionally, if you like AU Star Wars fics, try **Empire's Son** and** Empire's Son II **by blank101._

* * *

_'Expectations are what get you killed faster than anything else. The more you figure you've got a good plan, the more likely you are to end up a stain if your intel is wrong. Plan for things not to go to plan.' - General Rachel Florez, 'The Rules of Not Dying Like an Idiot'_

* * *

The Corporate Court of Ilium was centered around the Ysaris Spire, the tallest building in Nos Astra. Towering a good five hundred meters over the next tallest construction, the purple and silver citadel was curved toward where the sun had set a few minutes earlier, as if bent by the planet's revolutions, and broadened at the base to encompass a huge botanium and water park for executives and tourists to relax in.

The public chambers were held in richly decorated rooms high in the Spire. The emergency meeting area was a good one hundred meters below the sub-basement, a box of thirty-centimeter-thick Silaris armor under a kinetic siege barrier, buried in solid granite. An entire army of mechs and very well-paid mercenaries guarded the final hold-out of the rulers of Ilium.

Those who _remained_, at least.

The remaining CEOs of the Court of Corporations were gathered around the rich ngagi-wood table in the center of the room, eyes flickering between the haptic displays of the situation and the hulking krogan at the front of the room.

Like most of his clan, Ganar Dhrag was oddly civilized for a krogan. He wore, rather than armor or a military style uniform, a rather sharply tailored business suit with combat armor inserts and a durable kinetic barrier brace. His green eyes were almost amused as his smooth baritone voice echoed in the room.

"As you can see, matrias and matriarchs, the situation is not _entirely_ dire. The justicar landing force consists of a reinforced storm – roughly ten thousand soldiers – of the Republican Guard from Serrice, and, of course, an attachment of justicars, numbers currently unknown. They only have very light aerospace assets – less than fifteen gunships – and no known armor elements."

He brought up a submap, showing burning buildings and corpses scattered about the battered terrain near the river. "Of this force, we estimate they have already suffered more than a thousand casualties and nearly that many wounded. In return, they have smashed most of the tech gangs in the outer slums and managed to penetrate to the riverbank, engaging and destroying our picket line of defense."

He smiled. "The Ilium Corporate Security Force has not been noticeably damaged. We currently have four Blue Suns mercenary companies of a thousand soldiers each, plus over three hundred mechs and fifty battle-suits, who have agreed to fight for us in return for an upgraded payment. The main bulk of the security force, six thousand private mercenaries and fifteen Ganar Clan battlemasters, are backed up by our own force of fifty combat-ready APCs, twenty gunships, and ten VORKAIR-class battle-suits."

The asari around the room glanced at each other, expressions of fear and tension slowly easing, a few even smiling in relief. He continued. "We have let the justicars run rampant in the slums and the southside – low-class areas – and to hit the Vyna River, without facing them in strength, so as to not escalate the situation while we attempted negotiation."

His hand tapped his omni-tool, and the map shifted to a multi-pane display showing several asari. "We now know for a fact that Matriarch Anetha has bolted to the justicars, and our initial investigative report shows she was the one who called them in. If our sources are correct, the justicars intend not only to purge Ilium of 'criminal elements' and possible 'other threats' they have not clarified, but intend to arrest all of the CEOs of the Court and to place Ilium under the domination of the Thirty."

A young asari at the end of the table tilted her head. "And they've begun this already?"

He smiled. "They have, Matria Qisa. We have footage of the CEOs of Turessa Magnetoform, Jighan Pharmalife, and the Urathe Council having been arrested at the spaceport when they went to attempt to negotiate a ceasefire and demand an answer for the violence unleashed on the slums. The transmissions made a few minutes ago by the Justicar Mistress Layana in response to the media outrage only confirms that fact."

He gestured to the haptic map with his hand. "As I said, the justicars came through the outer southern slums near the Vaasten Spaceport, and cut through most of them before hitting the Vyna River. They took out a defensive line at the bridge of early response picket units, who were aided by gangers and civilians. They did not push further after they were engaged by Matriarch Solaha's mech forces and driven off. Shortly thereafter, the Justicar Everchosen Pehelia was killed along with several other justicars by a plasma bomb – we don't know who planted it. This has driven them into backing off somewhat."

He paused. "The only other definite information we have is Matriarch Anetha is aiding the invaders. That means our strength and troop numbers are probably known to them."

Matriarch Anhira Solaha, owner and CEO of the Ilium Manufactory Council, nodded icily. "And Nassana? She is not here. She is not arrested. Half of this goddess-damned mess is her fault, so where in the depths of Viaha is she?"

Dhrag snorted. "She appears to have already fled. Her secretaries say she lit out of here with P., or some of his agents." He lifted a hand into a loose fist, a krogan gesture of ambiguity. "Not sure I buy that. My people say the Broker is here in force, and that both Tazzik and Tetrimus are on-site to take out the Sisters of Vengeance."

Matriarch Whasili, the CEO of Ennovation, made a sign of siari negation. "And the Broker is cooperating with us?"

Dhrag grinned. "...Perhaps. His people secured the GTS defense center until we could transfer control to the central defense bunker. Then again, it's likely Broker forces will play all sides against each other. It's what they do."

Whasili nodded. "Thank you. As for the military situation...?"

He folded his massive arms. "As I said, after the plasma bomb, the justicars backed off and dropped additional reinforcements." He paused. "When I say the situation is not entirely dire, I do not mean we can win a conventional military engagement. We have the strength to push this group off of Ilium. However, we've intercepted a transmission indicating the rest of the Asari Second Fleet is in transit with an ETA of eight or nine hours at the most. That would bring an additional five storms of heavy infantry, complete with full armor, aerospace, mech, and war priestess support."

The other asari in the room – matrons, mostly, of smaller companies, or banking executives of the financial backers of the colony – looked around nervously. Matriarch Anhira spoke, her voice hard and cool. "Very well. The situation is stable, but will deteriorate rapidly. With the blockade, flight is unlikely – and we cannot repel the entire might of the Republic. How do we get out of this tides-damned mess we're in?"

Dhrag held up his hand. "Three options. All of them risky."

Anhira made a sign of siari unity. "Risk is the dance partner of us all, warlord. Proceed."

He nodded. "First, given that I am a krogan, I must present the most petulant and ignorant approach – direct assault. Launch everything at the landing site, open up on the fleet with all GTS defenses, and have the CO of the Ilium defensive fleet engage the Second Fleet vanguard. I estimate only a thirty percent chance of success, but it is very possible that you could escape in the chaos."

He inclined his head. "The drawbacks of this plan should be apparent – they will be hunting for you immediately, and all paths out of Republic Space are going to be guarded. It's very possible that even if you escape you will be chased down and destroyed – and in any event, Ilium itself will be a burning ruin."

Matriarch Whasili laughed bitterly. "None of us here, warlord, are delusional enough to think the fate of Ilium or its people is going to prevent us from saving our crests. Yet I agree – wild flight and direct combat with the catspaws of the Thirty sounds very... well, krogan."

Dhrag grinned good-naturedly. "I apologize for even suggesting such, but it is an option. Not the best, but if you wanted to make a point..."

Matriarch Anhira shook her head. "The only point I wish to make is that the Thirty are not my masters, not if what Nassana says she found in that cave is correct." She paused. "We did notify the STG, yes?"

Dhrag nodded. "Yes. We lost contact with the STG team leader twenty minutes ago. It is likely someone else got there first."

Anhira sagged. "Damn. We can still attempt to blackmail the Thirty, say we'll transmit publicly."

Another matriarch made a sign of siari negation. "That would just infuriate them. And without the physical evidence for our claims, we'd be laughed out of the ocean. I can scarce believe it myself, although it's certainly clear why Trellani lost her goddess-damned mind when she found out. No, we should not even hint we know – if we ever want to get out of this alive. The time for blackmail is when we are secure, not under siege."

Dhrag tilted his head. "...Is there something I am unaware of?"

Anhira lifted her chin. "Nothing to concern you, warlord. Internal asari... religious matters. You said there were two other options?"

He nodded. "Yes. Second, despite what this Samara has claimed, the justicars aren't here to _just_ 'clean up Ilium.' That includes you all – if they wanted to do that they could have just invited you to a meeting and arrested you all, not tip their hand. While I'm sure they plan to do what they say, the fact that they didn't just set you up is interesting – they must have been looking for something or someone else, and only escalated further when Matriarch Anetha ran to them."

He squared his shoulders. "I have no idea who or what they are looking for, but if we find this person, we can make a deal of some kind. Perhaps even allow them to take the planet in return for your personal freedom to leave the Republic."

Anhira's tone of voice was droll. "That seems both vague and unlikely to work out. They've landed an invasion force, killed thousands already, and have publicly stated that we're all going to be arrested and executed. I don't think they're interested in making a deal."

Dhrag shrugged. "Depends on how bad they want who they came here for. The last option is to fight – but instead of fighting to break free directly, we use it as a distraction. If they know you are fleeing, then they will search for you. If, on the other hand, they are convinced you are still here, fighting them and defying them, they won't have any idea you've fled and will have no good way to chase you down."

He tapped the map. "There are a few options. The main spaceport is, of course, locked down, along with most of your private vessels. The Vinthan Docks are currently clear of justicar forces, but the shipping manifests show nothing docked there has a chance to punch out. But the small repair dock at Northpoint is also clear of justicars... and Clan Ganar just _happens_ to have a reinforced salarian corvette docked there, in for repairs to its weapons systems, with good stealth systems and a photonic cloak."

Anhira's eyes narrowed. Salarian corvettes were fearsome ships, slightly bigger than a destroyer and packed with defensive systems, heavy armor, and powerful engines. The fact that it was operated by Clan Ganar – who had excellent relations with the House of Storms and the justicars – would almost certainly ensure it wouldn't be boarded or examined carefully.

She inclined her head. "...And how much is this going to set us back, Cera Dhrag? I doubt you or your clan is going to do this out of the goodness of your multiple hearts."

Dhrag shrugged. "You're aware of the recent death of our War-Father, Okeer, at the hands of the Butcher, I presume?"

At the round of nods he received, he smiled. "With his death, Clan Ganar has something of a leadership deficit, and worse, we are running very low on funds. Some want to continue his work, others want to go to Asari Space and still others wish to attempt a return to Tuchanka."

He came to his full, impressive height. "What I want in return for your escape is enough support and money to continue my War-Father's great work, preferably in the safety of a location where no one would look to find such a thing. To back and support me as leader of the clan. And to leverage your connections and skills to achieve my goals... which, I assure you, would earn each of you a great deal of profit as well as personal power."

Anhira shook her head. "I have no problems with the price, warlord, but the problem is the location. None of the independent asari worlds would risk this," she gestured sharply at the haptic screens on the other wall, showing heavy fighting, "to take us into their ranks. And I doubt the Alliance would risk their relationship with the Republic over us."

She sighed. "And none would risk the anger of the justicars."

Dhrag's smile widened. "There is one asari who would be very interested in your allegiance, and who could protect you even from them. In a location where, as I said, even if the Thirty knew where to find you, could not reach you." He tapped his omni-tool, and the map blanked before resolving into the face of a very well-known asari.

Aria T'Loak smiled tightly at the group of well-heeled commoner asari and made a gesture of siari greeting. "_Let's talk price, shall we?"_

Anhira paled, but before she could speak, Matriarch Whasili gave a loud laugh. "We are already accused of dealing with the Queen of Omega. Shall we not at least benefit from the lies of the Thirty for once?"

The older matriarch sagged, then nodded, meeting Aria's gaze squarely. "...Yes. Let us talk price."

**O-TWCD-O**

Tazzik wasn't sure who in the Collapse had leaked their operations at the dig site, but blamed only himself for not presuming someone would show up. He tucked himself into a rolling dodge as sprays of missile fire shattered the cliffside behind him, coming out in a kneeling stance and firing twice with his lance cannon at the pair of operatives with a Hydra missile launcher in the distance.

One of his shots blasted through the hapless salarian agent, splattering him all over his companion, who stammered out curses and tried to wipe gore from his eyes and face. That gave Tazzik enough time to race forward, covering the ground quickly before the STG agent could reload the missile launcher.

The agent dropped the bulky missile launcher, pulling out his shotgun, but had no time to fire before Tazzik was on him. The cyborg snapped his leg in a vicious arc, placing a kick into the chest of the STG war specialist and knocking the shotgun clear.

His foot crushed the salarian's chest, who gave a choked scream that ended in a spray of greenish blood. Tazzik paused only long enough to smash in his head with the reinforced steel barrel of his lance cannon before rushing ahead.

A heavy drop team was a rather bold move from the STG, when he'd been expecting at most a field team. His own group – a Broker heavy combat team, former elite military specialists from the turian, salarian, and human militaries, mixed with hardened mercenaries – would have torn a field team to pieces. A heavy drop team, on the other hand, was all STG war specialists, mixed with combat mechs and led by one of the few combatants that could actually kill him.

A fourth-gen Shieldbreaker, equipped with a BRKR railgun that even his armor wouldn't bounce and enough shielding and armor that his own lance cannon wasn't the best match for. He grimaced as another member of his team went down, being hit by a plume of plasma ejected by the Shieldbreaker, and aimed carefully, firing his lance cannon at the shoulder joint.

His shot connected, but didn't break the huge battle-suit's kinetic barrier, which glowed angrily as it absorbed the blast. It turned to face him, firing both the huge BRKR gun and a spray of anti-armor missiles at his position.

He ducked under the fusillade of fire, and even while he fired back he was laughing under his combat mask as he saw the elcor team leader shoulder charge and trample the two smaller mechs off to his right. The light cannon mounted on the elcor's shoulder blasted a pair of war specialists into splashes of ruined flesh and burnt, smoking body parts, but most of the rest of the Broker team was down.

He had to move fast if he wanted to get out of here – standard STG procedure was to follow a heavy drop team with airship assets if they couldn't perform orbital bombardment. He could take a Shieldbreaker, but he wasn't so sure he could take a pair of gunships on foot.

Mini-missiles flicked out from the Shieldbreaker and his onboard VI system reacted with omni-chaff, spoofing them. He boosted power to his legs as the missiles exploded onto the rock walls behind him, shards of granite and broken slabs of shattered statues pattering down to the soft earth below.

He fired his modified lance cannon twice, both shots finally shattering the battle-suit's kinetic barrier. He grinned a bit when he saw they'd splintered the suit's frontal armor. He fired a third time, but the suit displayed its own agility, managing to evade the shot.

Tazzik cursed, then arched into a leaping dodge to avoid heavy glowing blobs of BRKR counterfire aimed his way. His feet touched earth for a split second before he kicked off, triggering jump-jets in his cybernetic legs.

The second blast from the BRKR turned the spot he'd leapt away from into a glowing crater, but he was already moving. Dodging both missile fire and more blobs of BRKR plasma, he threw himself into a roll, coming out of it to the mech's side. Wasting no time, he extended his arm as the plasma harpoon assembly built into it activated, launching a thin, thirty-centimeter-long canister.

It smashed into the side of the Shieldbreaker, scattering burning plasma over the GTS missile rack and detonating those a moment later, staggering the pilot. Tazzik fired twice with the lance cannon as he backed away, targeting the bulky form of the BRKR railgun, which came apart in a white-hot explosion with his second shot.

He gave the Shieldbreaker pilot credit, as the big mech dropped the wreckage of his weapon – he didn't panic or run. Instead he brought his battle-suit around to face Tazzik squarely, the integrated mass cannons in the other arm firing as the Shieldbreaker turned to charge him. The rounds broke his kinetic barrier, but didn't penetrate his shoulder armor, and he kicked off his right leg to avoid another spray of missiles, this pack unguided since his chaff had jammed the last ones.

_I want to slap whatever volus sold the STG missile upgrades to this fucking thing._

He landed and snap-fired as he turned, but the Shieldbreaker's arm had generated a powerful omni-shield, the fury of the lance cannon deflecting off the glowing hexagonal surface. The Shieldbreaker dipped and its free hand clenched into a fist as a wide, thick omni-blade sprang into existence from a slot above the hand.

Tazzik snorted. "Melee? What do you take me for? A turian?"

Rather than indulge the obviously overconfident battle-suit pilot in some kind of melodramatic melee duel, he reached for his belt and flung a pair of magna-shock grenades. The grenades were an item the Broker Network had invented, generating powerful electrical pulses that usually overloaded non-optronic computer systems.

The Shieldbreaker was hardened against EMP, but the direct electrical discharge scrambled the suit's internal gyroscopes and the pilot staggered. Tazzik vaulted into the air, triggering the jump-jets in his legs to change his angle. He planted two shots into the upper torso of the Shieldbreaker, smiling as one splintered and punched through the armor, before his own not insignificant weight crashed down on top of the unbalanced machine.

He backflipped as it crashed to the ground, wincing as the edge of the Shieldbreaker's omni-blade lashed out at him and slashed a two-and-a-half-centimeter-wide smoking line in his leg armor. The battle-suit pilot had to kill the omni-shield and blade to try to get back to his feet, though, which took precious seconds.

Seconds he didn't have. Tazzik aimed the lance cannon at the knees of the war machine, firing several times before the knee joint blew out completely, then triggered his own mini-missile racks built into his shoulder.

The HUD flickered over his cybernetic vision as he picked which missiles to fire and launched, the half dozen warheads detonating with violent explosions. Something within the suit – _probably those damned missiles the thing had been hurling_, he thought sourly – exploded a second later, strips of smoking armor flying in all directions. The Shieldbreaker's gearing made a grinding sound before several more internal explosions went off, and it lay supine on the ground.

Not willing to take chances, Tazzik backed off, targeting the damaged shelf of rocks higher up, firing his lance cannon until tumbling rubble and stones the size of an aircar had buried the Shieldbreaker completely.

He had not even had time to check the battlefield as shots punched through his armor. He turned, cursing at seeing his entire strike team down and three STG agents racing at him, firing on the move as they came with STG custom Rapier laser shotguns.

He swayed to one side to avoid another blast – the Rapier bypassed even his armor – firing back with a snap-shot from his lance cannon. He smirked as one of the agents tried and failed completely to dodge, coming apart in a spray of vaporized blood and burning chunks of armor and flesh. He dropped his favorite weapon, knowing the other two would be too close and fast to hit.

He triggered his own omni-shield as the trailing agent fired again, and the lead flung EMP grenades at him. He snorted and charged, using the edge of the shield to knock the grenades away and ignoring their impotent detonation. Instead, he dashed into melee range, kicking one agent away as he backhanded the leading agent.

The kicked salarian merely flipped back to his feet, and the one he'd backhanded staggered back, then wiped green blood from his mouth and triggered light omni-blades on his armor. Tazzik was faintly amused either one had taken a direct hit without limbs flying. "Huh. Upgrades. And what is it with you Solus and melee, anyway?"

The only answer he got was both agents charging him with yells. The next fifteen seconds were marked by blazes of orange and three figures moving faster than the eye could follow, streaks of black, smears of color, and the howling screech of locked omni-blades. Then an agent simply failed to move fast enough. This time, Tazzik didn't hold back, and the agent took a full power kick to the chest that shattered his spine and pulped both his upper heart and lung sacs, killing him almost instantly.

The other agent managed to slash Tazzik deeply on the chest, blocking the Broker assassin's return swings only with great difficulty, and finally missing a block. Tazzik's hissing omni-blade cut off his arm at the shoulder and then slashed back across the chest, and the agent crumpled to the ground, spraying greenish blood.

Tazzik killed his omni-blade. "Not bad, agent. Stupid to try, of course... but not bad."

The dying STG agent on the ground blinked large, black eyes and gave a bloody grimace. "...Don't destabilize... stop... disrupt..."

Tazzik triggered his combat mask, revealing his face as it split into a malevolent grin. "We're going to do more than 'disrupt,' slave of the SIX. Go to your Wheel in shame." He stomped the agent's head, which burst apart like a rotted fruit under two hundred seventy-two kilograms of force, then kicked the remains out of his way and headed back toward the front of the canyon to recover his lance cannon.

This mission was technically, he supposed, successful. Whatever in the name of the Collapse Almnrut had been doing was done, with no evidence of what was there left behind. The team had recorded everything carefully so the Broker could review it at his leisure.

He stepped past ruined bodies to the bent, smoking form of the elcor Captain, who was dead. He picked up the elcor's omni-tool, checking to make sure the data was on it, then nodding in satisfaction as he transferred it to his own.

The Captain had died hard, he saw – he'd taken down both of the STG combat mechs and three agents. The rest of the team, eight in all, had also done well, but against a thirty-man STG drop team in heavy armor they didn't have much of a chance.

Normally, despite the fact that Broker agents had self-immolation devices that could be remotely triggered, he'd clean up his mess a little – leaving clear evidence of a Broker-STG shootout was frowned upon. But he'd taken more time than he liked killing the enemy – STG gunships were probably nearly here.

He settled for triggering his team's self-immolation routines now, even as he was tapping his comm-link. "Tetrimus. Site secure. STG team is down, but there's a Shieldbreaker I buried under a landslide who probably isn't dead. No chance to clean up the mess. Whole team's a wipe."

The tired voice of the turian sounded more acerbic than usual. "_Good. Saves me the trouble of liquidating them. And there's no time to deal with the Shieldbreaker, we're tracking a trio of gunships headed your way, five minutes out. We'll drop a plasma bomb on our way out."_

Tazzik frowned, even as he hustled even faster towards his gravbike. "Problems?"

Tetrimus's voice was frustrated. "_Yes. We're en route to the docks, but the justicars have drawn back after a plasma bomb attack – we don't have good distracting cover. No sign of our targets, but we had a scouting team out and they're not responding to comms. We're going to dig in at the Canni Hotel near the docks and wait for Dantius's people to see if they can find the Sisters and for the situation to heat back up, then slip her out in the mess."_

Tazzik nodded, getting on the gravbike and kicking off, accelerating as rapidly as he could. "And if her people can't? Find the Sisters, I mean."

"_Then we have to give them an irresistible target. The window for this operation is only a few more hours – we need to be clear of here well before the full might of the Second Fleet arrives. If it comes to that, I'll be the bait – Midnight's Kiss and the others will keep anyone from interfering."_

Tazzik's lips curled, tightening his grip on the bike as he took it off-road, headed for the treeline that would provide at least visual cover from incoming gunships. "And the Butcher? No sign yet?"

Tetrimus gave a chuckle. "_Not yet. She likes to make an entrance, and we don't know nearly enough about her for me to feel confident about taking her – so I want you in reserve. I've killed so many asari that I hardly even bother worrying about it anymore, but the Butcher is anomalous enough that a little caution won't hurt, especially given the footage from Horizon."_

Tazzik nodded sourly to himself. "That sounds prudent. I'll set up out of town, near the docks." He paused. "Tetrimus, Almnrut blew up the... whatever the shit he was studying and then took off, that pyramid thing vanished and the geth prime was left behind. He said he had called the geth in as a distraction." He ducked under a few low-lying branch-vines from the ngagi trees, confident the warm sap-filled interiors of the trees and their copious canopies would hide him until he could find a place to get his thermoptic camo going.

Tetrimus's voice was heavy with exasperation. "_That's not going to do us a vakar's lick of good. How long would it take geth to get here from the sirefucking Veil? I hate that thing, everything it says or does irritates me."_

Tazzik shrugged. "Just letting you know. Next comm in forty-five minutes. Tazzik out." He gunned the bike down the rough hillside deeper into the forest, already planning where to come out and hit the aerolanes on the outskirts of Nos Astra.

**O-TWCD-O**

Maliki frowned thoughtfully at the financial dataslate in his hand before blanking it, his dark features twisting in frustration for only a moment until both frown and expression faded into his normal, placid mask.

He had long served Richard Williams – indeed, his family had been hereditary knights of the Williams family since the days of Victor Manswell, and before then as mercenary troubleshooters. Maliki was a killer and assassin, true – but he was also a skilled financial analyst, a talented hacker, and had degrees in psychology and business management.

Richard preferred multifaceted and skilled persons to be his servants. He saw his subordinates as being useless if they were not almost as good as he was. He saw no point in a tool that could only perform one function – unless it was to be used once, then discarded.

No such fate had ever threatened Maliki, but as he glanced at the dataslate again, attempting to turn it on once more to make some sense out of the data, he was reminded that it was still an effective stimulant. Reviewing in his head the figures they'd found, he was forced to admit the transactions Cerberus were doing were incomprehensible and only added to his feeling of running in place. There were times he wished his job was simpler, focused on eliminating physical threats with violence.

Then again, he mused, the whole reason Richard operated the way he did in regards to his subordinates was his dislike of how Jack Harper's people were. All of the core Cerberus agents that Harper brought on were not only shallow and focused on only one thing, but also broken in some way. Unlike his own master, whose confidence and ability were unmatched and unquestioned, Harper surrounded himself with shattered beings – all deadly or highly competent, to be sure, but often outmatched and outperformed by those more flexible.

Which did not explain why Cerberus's most recent activities broke that trend and continued to stymie Hades. What should have been a quick investigative mission had turned into a million-credit misadventure, with teams on Bekenstein, Alcha, Irune, and now Ilium. Yet not a single solid lead turned up.

He sighed, giving the dataslate a final glance before handing it back to the Hades data operator with a curt nod. "Keep looking. I refuse to believe our erstwhile cousin organization has become skilled enough to hide everything they are doing. Kiongozi is less forgiving of failure than I am. There is a link between these financial transactions."

The analyst, a thickset man in his late thirties with blunt Indian features, nodded sourly. "I'll keep looking, but from what I see, Cerberus wiped entire fronts and corporate holdings. The original shells were liquidated in bankruptcy declarations on Irune, which are sealed by the Corporate Court there for another five years. The parties that fronted the cash to Purgatory were part of a shell company, held by a third-party investment bank, itself owned by another shell company. Tracing back that address on Bekenstein led us to an empty warehouse."

The analyst shrugged. "There were signs that data equipment and uplinks had been removed recently. Their use of encrypted bearer bonds points to Noveria, where we can't reach them easily. But the data transmission packets we got were definitely headed to Eldfell-Ashland branches on Alcha. They're probably using one-time couriers for each face-to-face transaction, and mixing up the ports they hit to throw us off even further. They're playing things very carefully."

Maliki nodded his head. "And that is a key point. Harper was once almost arrogant in his financial magic. For them to now use such fiduciary caution implies weakness. This is not tradecraft, this is paranoia. If we trace this line of information far enough, we can locate either end of it. One of those has to be the base of Harper and his organization."

The analyst nodded. "And the other?"

The taller black man gave a shrug of his own, the band of cybernetics that covered his eyes raising as he did so. "Most likely, the Butcher. Keep at it once we clear out of here, and have the team ready to move quickly. I dislike the events in Nos Astra."

The analyst nodded, and Maliki turned away, tapping his omni-tool. "Kiongozi, this is Maliki. The trail ends at Ilium. We believe the target is operating behind multiple shells. The informant we had at Purgatory confirmed the Butcher picked up someone from there, a biotic criminal the Deathwatch caught named Jack. Other than that we have no leads. The Warden was uncooperative, and I thought it unwise to press."

There was a long delay, then the hard, cool voice of Richard Manswell sounded through the comm-link. "_Not surprising, although very interesting. Go ahead and vacate the team on Ilium, but I'd rather you stick around. The AIS thinks the Butcher is going to be on Ilium very soon to rescue the Sisters of Vengeance from the Broker."_

Maliki glanced out the window of the high-rise office building the Hades team was operating out of, at the vista of Nos Astra torn by fighting along the riverbank, and the spots of gunships and fighters in the skies. His voice was dry as he spoke. "There is already a great deal of conflict, Kiongozi. Surely the Butcher has more sense than to throw herself into the flames here."

Another long pause before Richard replied. "_Based on what we've gathered so far – and given that snake Harper's blasted meddling in anything and everything – I'd be surprised if Cerberus didn't already have strike teams on the planet. Don't interfere, simply observe. If my guess is right, we may have a serious issue to deal with."_

Maliki nodded. "What do we do with the Horizon team? The geth research and the biomedical interfaces were completed, and the prototypes work. They got off-world with all the research, and I routed them to Alte."

The pause was longer this time, and Richard's voice was noticeably cooler. "_For now, Alte is good. We'll probably move the Project out of restricted space and to Alte in the next few weeks – too many of the researchers we have are suffering the initial stages of indoctrination and need to be wiped. We might as well combine all the high dangers in one place. See to it after Ilium is done with."_

The assassin turned administrator nodded to himself. "Your will, as always, Kiongozi." He killed the connection, and looked out the window again, before tapping the omni on his arm. "All team members, prep to leave in one hour. Scrub everything portable and destroy anything we cannot take with us. Once the base is clean, we'll take public transport to the southern port area and board a bulk cargo hauler to Alte. There will no doubt be delays, but try to avoid the fighting as much as possible."

He clicked off again before checking his weapons. The day had just started and already the city was ablaze; he didn't want to take a gamble on being unprepared for whatever was about to transpire.

**O-TWCD-O**

"This is not exactly what I was expecting from your message."

As usual, the voice of Thane Krios was grave and yet tinged with something Liara always suspected was amused sarcasm.

Liara and Telanya had messaged Thane to meet them at the same location Liara had given Tela Vasir and Matriarch Trellani, and then had shut down the office and driven to the warehouse, Trellani following in her own aircar still driven by Jason Dunn.

The ride had been done in a worried, tense silence, Liara lost in thoughts of what was about to happen, Telanya listening with an occasional grimace at the panicky news reports about the justicar police action.

Upon arriving, Liara had commed Thane, who had shown up shortly thereafter with the expected – a handful of Remembrance Dancers – and the very unexpected – Morinth, the ardat-rekshi Liara recognized from her honeymoon. Barely twenty seconds afterwards, an all human team of black-armored mercenaries had arrived, and then the heavy cargo air-truck that disgorged Tela, Aethyta, and the Black Blades.

Telanya had ushered them all inside, but the groups stayed separated as they stood in the dim lighting of the warehouse, Morinth in particular standing alone. Liara almost couldn't believe in such a coincidence happening, and had learned one ugly rule of being a data broker.

Most coincidences _weren't_.

Liara and Telanya were still in full disguise. Liara had given some thought to revealing her true identity, but saw no real benefit from doing so – and given Telanya's mother was still likely to be vulnerable, it seemed a useless idea. If during the fight it got out, they'd deal with the fallout, but the many groups in the warehouse were tense enough without dropping that on them.

Aethyta's Black Blades were an oppressive presence, in heavy armor and with multiple weapons alongside the black-painted blades on their hips or backs. She frowned, taking in the black armored troops neatly arrayed behind Matriarch Trellani, all blank face plates and heavy, ugly looking rifles.

Still frowning, Liara glanced over the rest of Thane's people. Most wore the red coats of the Dancers, but a few had the honor beads and ritually removed scales of the Weary, older retired Dancers who usually were only called out for certain obscure ceremonies of the drell. She gestured to the three of them and turned to face Thane more fully.

"I could say the same. This is more than a 'few friends.' And I did not expect to see your other companion."

Thane looked much as he had on Omega, although Liara could see faint lines across his scales of wounds that had healed and scarred. "I was not expecting you to bring Matriarch Trellani, much less a dead asari and a pack of legendary blade masters."

Aethyta's smile was without humor, and she had not said anything since arriving, instead merely watching Trellani carefully. Many of the Black Blades, standing in rough rows behind her, were giving the Dark Matriarch wary or hostile looks, but they didn't seem to disturb the former priestess's eerie amusement and cool composure.

Liara found it somewhat amusing they were more alarmed by Trellani than the ardat-rekshi standing there. Before she could speak, however, the silence was filled instead by Tela Vasir, who stood next to Aethyta. "That's great. I'm glad we all know we're badasses, but if everyone's a badass, no one is. Now what?"

Dunn gave a quiet snicker, standing behind Trellani, and gestured to Liara. "I guess the ladies here give us the rundown?"

Liara took a deep breath. "We are here to do three things. First, find and incapacitate Tetrimus so that we can do a mind-rip and extract the Broker's location. Second, kill Tazzik and any Broker reinforcements as well as Nassana Dantius, who is now in league with him and involved in several crimes. Finally, escape the planet alive to find and kill the Broker himself."

Dunn gave a low whistle. "That's a pretty tall order; given both Tazzy and the bird have wiped the floor with entire strike forces by themselves." He glanced around.

Liara smiled bitterly beneath her mask. "We are fully aware of that. As you have already figured out, the Vantirus Sisters are the Sisters of Vengeance. We have been combating the Broker's forces on Ilium for some time now. We have driven off all of his major operations and killed dozens of his best people."

Dunn snorted. "C'mon, blue. You've probably waxed a lot of his flunkies, but Cerberus has an eye on the guy too, y'know. Most of his best people are on the edge of the Traverse now. What you've been killing off are his wet-teams."

Telanya's voice was drolly amused. "I'm sorry; did you think we were speaking of his best accountants? We know he pulled up stakes – that's why we have to risk going right after the top-tier asshole."

Liara nodded. "No matter what, Tetrimus must not be allowed to escape. Not only because he is our best chance at finding the Broker." Her voice grew hard. "It is also our only chance at obtaining _justice_. The Broker – and Tetrimus, and the rest – have done everyone here a great amount of damage. Some of you – and I – have had loved ones murdered at his command by his forces. Others have had their lives ruined. All of us are threatened by his existence."

Dunn folded his arms. "And if we don't have personal skin in the game?

Liara glanced at Dunn, then shrugged. "It does not matter _why_ you are here. Only that you are willing to assist. But you are known to us – was Shepard not close to you?"

Dunn's fists clenched, but Trellani was more interested in the pained catch of the taller asari's voice when she spoke Shepard's name.

_Curious. So, this is someone who perhaps knew Shepard. _

Thane's gravelly voice reverberated throughout the warehouse. "The Broker slew the family members of several high-ranking members of the Dance, in an attempt to influence us to strike at targets he could not. Tetrimus, in particular, killed my wife, and Nassana sold him the information needed to do so. They must both die."

Morinth shifted her gaze from person to person, wearing thick black combat armor trimmed in a faint, delicate purple that matched her face markings. The blocky handle of a Revenant protruded over her right shoulder as she shifted slightly before smiling ruefully. "The Broker probably sold out my position here. The justicar leading this mess going on in the city proper is my mother."

She paused, and Liara noticed Aethyta going pale and narrowing her eyes.

Morinth continued a moment later. "Not to mention he's done me a number of bad turns over the years." She glanced down. "Besides, I haven't got any way off the planet through this blockade unless one of you does."

Liara looked to Matriarch Trellani, who for her part, merely stood quietly. "My reasons... do not matter. My purpose is clear. I – and I suppose Mr. Dunn as well – represent Cerberus, which is opposed to the Broker. We have reason to believe that even beyond the crimes he has committed, which are innumerable, he is dealing with or doing business with the Collectors, who recently destroyed a human colony world."

She folded her arms. "The Butcher and the Archangel are incoming, seeking to join forces with the Sisters in killing the Broker. I would think we are easily capable of evacuating the... team here through the asari fleet blockade after we have localized the Broker."

Aethyta finally spoke. "Not to be bitchy... but no matter how scary the talk is about you, you're just one priestess. If Cerberus is involved, why aren't they sending people?"

Trellani's smile widened. "Ah, Aethyta. Always impatient. I always liked that about you." Her voice softened. "As it stands, there are five teams of my associates already on the planet disguised as common mercenaries armed with heavy weapons. Five more teams and twenty heavy battle-suits are ready for deployment, although I'm afraid they may cause more confusion than good given they are painted in Cerberus colors."

She shrugged. "Beyond that, the Butcher and Archangel – and support elements – will be here in roughly two more hours." Her eyes took on a gleam. "_I_ cannot even begin to describe how angry the Butcher and the Archangel are with Tetrimus, and they will certainly approve of torturing the location of the Broker out of him."

Morinth nodded. "Given how strong Tetrimus and Tazzik are, and how risky this is, shouldn't we wait for them?"

With a deep breath, Liara shook her head. "We do not have much time. The Broker has dispatched kill teams to several locations in the city – the GTS tower, some outlying sites out of town, the spaceport – and is likely working with Nassana's tech-savants as we speak to try to localize us. The justicars are committed to a full pacification effort – which is going to turn into all-out war once the remaining CEOs refuse to surrender."

She lifted her hands. "In two more hours the situation will be so chaotic that our chances of success would be, by any reasonable measure, zero."

Morinth shrugged. "So, the plan?"

Liara turned to Telanya, who tapped her omni, displaying the slim shape of a corporate tower complex near the spaceport. Telanya's voice was deeper than her real voice, due to the vocoder behind her mask. "Nassana has almost certainly evacuated the Towers by now, and probably left behind mercenaries to kill intruders. We've had her comm-lines tapped for months now and we intercepted a communication. The Broker's combat teams are taking her to a frigate at the Vinthan North Docks."

She tapped the image, and the map zoomed in, showing a small launch complex to the south of the main spacedock. "Vinthan is a cargo port area and the Broker has already paid off the Republican Guard Captain who was supposed to secure it. Nassana will almost certainly be either on the frigate itself or more likely in the attached hotel here, waiting for the justicars to finish their lockdown."

Telanya's voice sharpened as she brought up grainy video images. "The Broker dispatched over twenty kill teams – trained assassins, including a few failed Dancers – as well several heavy combat teams. A separate force is in a firefight outside the city itself with the STG at some sort of archaeological site. We have no information on that."

She tapped one image. "We've confirmed Tetrimus and Tazzik are on the planet, with Tetrimus accompanying Dantius. Tazzik is believed to be at this archaeological site. There were several other unidentified combatants with Tetrimus, mostly salarian tech-savants, we believe. We also ID'd one krogan warlord, Thax Varun."

Aethyta grimaced, while Thane gave a soft sigh. "Thax was the prize student of Warlord Okeer." The drell's voice dropped in volume. "Very powerful, although non-biotic, and one of only a few krogan with cybernetics."

Telanya continued. "We've also spotted a small group of asari in black and green, led by this person."

She flashed up an image of a well-muscled and older asari, her otherwise striking features covered with strange markings and glyphs that made Trellani and Aethyta's expressions sour and two of the older Blades splutter disgusted curses.

This time it was the Dark Matriarch who spoke, her voice hard as she unconsciously moved a hand to her warp sword. "That, young ones, is the cruel and vile ardat-yakshi once known as Midnight's Kiss. She was the leader of the Nightwind until she turned against her masters; now she serves the Broker. I suspect the other asari in her entourage are also ardats, although if they are rekshi or yakshi is unknown." Her voice dipped in amusement. "Not that the distinction matters very much."

Morinth hissed. "Tetrimus is bad enough, but _Midnight's Kiss_?"

Aethyta spat. "Everything dies if you stick enough swords into it, even that unnatural freak." She folded her arms. "Anything else? A goddess-damned yahg warband? Maybe a fucking vorcha clan?"

Telanya tapped her omni, restoring the map. "No, Matriarch. We've hacked through several security systems and can land shuttles close to the facility, and we're confident we can suppress the security cameras long enough to get inside. Once there, we'll have to deal with their other forces while going after Tetrimus."

There was a long silence before Trellani spoke. "Assuming the justicars are tied up with combat inside Nos Astra, dropping my forces from orbit should not attract too much attention. They can certainly mitigate some of the Broker's troops."

Thane nodded. "Most of my people will assist in that as well."

Aethyta gave the map a sour look before giving a gusty sigh. "Midnight's Kiss is nearly as bad as Tetrimus. The Black Blades will go after her. Once they down her and her tramps, they'll follow you in."

Liara nodded. "My sister and I, along with... Aethyta and, I suppose Morinth, Spectre Vasir, and Matriarch Trellani will get inside the port proper and locate Nassana and Tetrimus. Once we do, we'll engage Tetrimus directly. Our goal is to incapacitate him for a mind-rip."

Morinth gave a shallow laugh at that. "That's harder to swim than a midday's tide, you know."

Dunn laughed too. "I'll be more direct: this plan is goddamned stupid. Have you actually listened to what you're saying?"

Liara's voice through the modulator was harsh. "I know the plan is hardly a tactical masterpiece. Nor will I deny there is every chance of failure. But we have faced him before and survived, if only narrowly."

She gave a slow exhalation. "Despite his power, he is not invincible. He works best when he can prepare for assaults, in long-range situations with abundant cover. He can and has been wounded by Matriarch Aethyta before. Between all of us, we should be more than able to equal him and bring him down."

Trellani sounded amused. "And then?"

Liara lifted her chin. "Assuming your assertion is correct, the Butcher and Archangel should be arriving around that time and will extract us. At that point, we can all go our separate ways or continue on to killing the Shadow Broker."

One of the Remembrance Dancers next to Thane gave a small head shake. "By Kalahira, this plan is reckless and unlikely."

Thane himself answered. "The only people who we know for a fact have direct access to the Broker are Tazzik and Tetrimus. Given the amount of cybernetics Tazzik is famed for, I cannot imagine the Broker has no methods of preventing him from surrendering the Broker's location. Tetrimus may have the same complications, but we have a paucity of alternatives."

His gaze took in the others. "Even if we fail here – even if some of us die – if we can kill his main lieutenants, then it is only logical he will be forced to divulge his location to new lieutenants. I cannot imagine him being able to find ones stronger than Tetrimus and Tazzik. Eventually, we will find and kill him."

A distant explosion sounded, rumbling the small, high windows of the warehouse. Liara's good eye narrowed. "The fighting is getting worse, and from what we've picked up from the comm-net of the corporate CEOs, at least three of them are preparing a counterattack against the justicar landing force. This is the best time to strike."

Trellani nodded. "In that instance, I'll have my ground forces meet us near the spaceport, while the orbital forces prepare for a drop. I am also prepared for battle myself, although I fear if I am spotted by justicars that will only increase our problems."

Tela glanced at Aethyta, who gave her a tiny smile before speaking. "The ship I came in on has enough space to move everyone, and we've got a person on the dock tracking station who will look the other way. I also brought along some combat mechs."

Thane nodded. "Half my team will go with you; the other half will infiltrate and establish sniping positions in support of taking out the Broker forces." He made a subtle hand motion and half of the dozen Dancers gave shallow bows before departing.

Morinth pursed her lips, then glanced at Vasir and Aethyta. "You two aren't gonna try to turn me over to the justicars? None of you give a shit about working with an ardat?"

Trellani merely smiled. "I am familiar with your work, child. I do not see you attempting to act against, as you yourself said, the only people who have a way for you to escape the justicar's hunt for you and other ardats on the planet."

Aethyta shrugged. "From what I've heard of you, you only kill assholes. Don't try anything stupid and," she paused, and then gave a bitter smile, "...let's just say I don't care where you go after this."

Vasir was silent for a second. "Right now, I'm not acting as a Spectre. I'm here to fulfill a debt, and correct a mistake, not do the Council of Matriarchs' dirty work." She fixed the ardat with a hard look. "Like she said – as long as you don't pull anything, what you do after all of this is not my business."

Liara nodded. "We've gathered supplies here – anti-biotic rounds, suppressor fields, tanglewire, explosives, black nano spatter grenades, and anything else we could think of. Take what you need while we change into armor."

**O-TWCD-O**

Anetha Sarastar was, even among the clanless, a rather plain looking asari. As one of the leading CEOs of Ilium, in charge of the Starside Council Corporation, most expected her to dress expensively and live lavishly, but she instead wore a simple off-white dress surmounted by a harsh gray shawl and faint gray facial markings.

Samara mused that Anetha probably didn't start the day expecting to be arrested by the justicars upon landing, but she sat quietly, with a poise that left Samara rather impressed. The CEO's voice was level and calm as she faced the three justicars in the room, one of the many large meeting rooms in the southern spaceport where the main body of the justicar force had landed.

"It was I who informed the Council and the Justicar Mistress of the backroom dealings Nassana and the rest were doing with Aria. And it was I who made sure the corporate defense fleet didn't open fire on your expeditionary force when it got into orbit. So may I ask why I'm under arrest?"

Justicar Vhira gave her a sour glance. "You are one of the five CEOs in charge of this den of iniquity. We are, of course, going to assume you took part in certain illegalities, and have no intention of proceeding with whatever you want until we determine your level of guilt and involvement."

Samara watched as the clanless asari inclined her head with an almost mocking smile. "Ah. And have you _found_ anything, justicar? Or are you merely assuming that clanless trash such as I must, of course, be up to something no good if I'm on Ilium?"

Vhira's face twisted, but the justicar next to her shook her head and placed a restraining hand on the shoulder of the younger one. "Cena Anetha, it is unwise to engage in suggestions that the justicars are acting unfairly. We only perform our duty in line with the demands of the Code."

Anetha gave a sloppy sign of siari negation. "And flipfish will chase a nexa into the deeps if there are enough of them, is that it?" Her voice hardened. "You are wasting time bothering going through my corporation's finances. Nassana is almost certainly fleeing or fled, and there's no telling what the Court is going to do now that you discarded what you told me this police action would be about and decided to invade."

Vhira was flipping through her omni-tool, reviewing the records of the Starside Council, and muttered something under her breath. Samara decided to intervene. "Vhira, Cera Anetha has a point. You have spent a full hour on this and have found nothing. It is hardly impossible that an upstanding asari would conduct themselves in an actually legal fashion if her personal morals are stronger than those around her."

Vhira exhaled. "Starside sold weapons to the anarchists who killed my family."

Anetha snorted. "And we've no doubt had our weapons used by turian separatists and some of Aria's goons – that does not mean _we_ sold them. I've told you already. We had several large weapons shipments attacked and stolen, with heavy casualties, several times, and I strongly suspect one of the other CEOs or the Broker himself set those attacks up. I am very sorry that your family was attacked by idiots – but those fools are no doubt drowning in the wreckage of lower Nos Astra at this very moment." She set her jaw. "So why am I here, wasting both my time and yours, honored justicars?

Samara gave a serene if small smile. "The plasma bomb attack on our forward deployment force was also a Starside weapon. There is a concern your cooperation may be a pose or front to lure our strike into a compromised position."

Anetha made a sign of siari calm. "Justicar Samara, not to put a nexa into the bathwater – but if I wanted to do such a thing, why would I have even gone to the trouble of informing you of the corruption of the other CEOs, dealing with the fleet, or putting myself in a position where you can choose to kill me?"

Before anyone could reply, a Republican Guard officer entered the room, her features showing some level of alarm. "Apologies, revered ones. We have lost contact with the flanking scout elements near the river. The last report we got said one of the hunters had glimpsed what she thought was a Remembrance Dancer."

Samara stood, all warmth gone from her features. "Anetha, did the CEOs hire Dancers to reinforce them?"

The clanless shook her head, confusion clear on her expression. "No. Dantius had death threats against her by the Order of Remembrancers, something about her supplying the Broker information that led to the death of someone tied to them." She paused. "They have hired, as I told you, several krogan warlords and multiple companies of Blue Suns. But not dancers."

Samara said nothing for several long seconds, until Vhira folded her arms. "Samara?"

The older justicar glanced around the rooms, her pale gray eyes no longer serene. "Something has shifted. There are other nexa in the sea in which we swim." She turned to the Guard. "Have the valsharess attend me at once. Pull back our scouts to within sight range of leading forces. And inform the Broker contact assisting us that we have possibly sighted a Dancer."

The Guard soldier left, and Samara gestured sharply at Matriarch Anetha. A flare of warpfire, expertly wielded, incinerated the bindings securing the clanless's legs to the chair. "Matriarch, attend me. Vhira, we'll look into the issue of stolen weapons later – take Everchosen Shasi and form the echelon with the first, fifth, and eighth waves of the Republican Guard."

There was muted protest in the eyes of the other justicar, but she obeyed. Anetha watched her leave with a sardonic expression before turning to Samara. "What do you fear is happening?"

Samara's voice was still calm, but there was an edge to it. "I fear that it is all too convenient, given the stakes at play for the other CEOs, that you were _allowed_ to live long enough to reach us. That it is odd the Ilium defensive forces have not acted more aggressively. And that despite what I've been warned to expect, there is no sign that Aria or Trellani are involved with any of this."

She turned to face the clanless. "I fear that someone wanted us here, and wanted Ilium in chaos. And I wish to know why."

**O-TWCD-O**

"Not to be a buzzkill, Matriarch, but, uh, is this wise?" Dunn's voice was edged with a mix of sarcasm and frustration as Trellani came out of the small room the Sisters had provided for her to change in.

She wore armor she'd not donned in decades – the formal war-regalia of the Stellarch of Athame's Wisdom, defaced to remove the venerated scripts of prayers of sublimation and warped with the bold imprint of the Cerberus hexagon on the wide shoulder and hip plates. Her face was hidden behind a mask of translucent crystal, topped with a veil of linked metallic plates that meshed with the armored cape she wore over her shoulders.

Her metallic boots clinked musically as she walked forward, adjusting her warp sword. "Mr. Dunn. For this operation to succeed, both the target we are chasing and the target we came here to secure must be handled properly. The Sisters have not, as far as I am aware, faced Tetrimus or Tazzik in battle. I have. So have, I believe, Matriarch Aethyta and the Dancer, Thane."

She gave a deep inhalation. "This is an unlikely plan to succeed, and standing on the sidelines and not utilizing my abilities to make sure it succeeds could be why it ultimately fails. I understand Jack gave you orders to keep me from harm."

She faced him. "I also understand that if I die here, what I have found and what I have planned will still go forward. I do not fear death, Mr. Dunn. I fear living on in a universe grounded in lies and deceit, in knowing I stood aside while millions suffered and billions more were used most cruelly by monsters purporting to be our leaders."

Dunn's expression didn't change. "Yeah, I get that. It's why I joined Cerberus to begin with. My point, though, is that this plan is the stupidest pile of shit I've heard of ever since Shepard decided to just biotically charge right into the middle of the enemy and start flinging grenades. I know you're powerful – but certainly letting the mechs and other Centurion teams drop in your place would be just as powerful, right?"

Trellani shrugged asari style. "Maybe." She checked her sword again, then started walking toward the main part of the warehouse. "Then again, we might need them to get us out of a sticky situation. I am going – what you choose to do is up to you."

He sighed. "Are you crazy? TIM would have the Odd Couple turn me into a fucking wall hanging if I let you run off and get killed." He grimaced at his armor. "Wish I had a good set of N7O, though. This shit won't bounce angry words."

Trellani gave a small smile. "I seem to recall you complaining quite strenuously that the N7 Onyx armor you used to wear was too heavy, and that Cerberus combat slick-suits were more flexible and useful."

Dunn sighed. "Yeah, but the plan didn't originally call for me to head straight into a fight with Tetrimus. Figured I'd have time to get in an ATLAS or something." He gave a short laugh. "Then again, N7O wouldn't bounce whatever Tetrimus is likely to be flinging any better than this would."

The two walked into the main room, where the Sisters had mounted up on gravbikes. Thane's people, the Black Blades, and Tela Vasir had already left, the latter to scout the path, the rest to move into combat positions.

Aethyta herself was on a gravbike, while Morinth and Thane were getting into an aircar. Dunn gestured to the one he'd driven Trellani here in, and looked at the Sisters. "We ready?"

Liara nodded curtly. "Spectre Vasir is scouting the path. The justicars have drawn back for the moment, the approaches are clear. The Broker comm-nets show Tetrimus is heading to the hotel and Tazzik is still outside the city. We must move now."

Trellani stepped into the aircar, hunching her shoulders a bit as the canopy came down, and they set out after the gravbikes. The view of the Nos Astra skyline was still wounded, streams of smoke and the sound of emergency vehicles filling the air.

Dunn's smooth driving skills had them neatly following along a secondary aerolane and then coming to ground-level, along a metalled road that skirted the small lake where the asari had dammed the river to provide hydropower for the city. The southern docking complex, a few acres of squat landing pads and a scattering of hotels, was removed almost five kilometers from the city proper, mostly used by industrial landing ships and well-heeled alien investors who did not trust the hustle of the main city.

It didn't take long to reach their first rally point. Vasir was there, along with five assault shuttles – armored models of the standard shuttle, with forward-firing guns and light kinetic shielding. Trellani's Cerberus troopers were there as well, standing a distance from the Black Blades and Dancers.

Vasir's voice came over the comm-link as Dunn landed the aircar. "_We're clear. The Cerberus ship is in drop position. Auntie, your ship is behind the hills over there, I offloaded the mechs into one of the shuttles."_

Trellani stepped out as Aethyta killed the gravbike and nodded. The taller Sister tapped her omni-tool, and then spoke in a soft voice. "I have four more shuttles filled with high-explosives. These will be used to create openings and distractions as needed. The hotel security net is compromised, but the Broker's people will almost certainly have their own."

Liara glanced around. "Matriarch, have your men take one shuttle – with the mechs – and proceed to the southern gate of the port facility proper. That is the closest approach point from the ground to the Canni Hotel. Thane, your snipers and people are in place?"

The Dancer nodded. "Four snipers covering the hotel. Two more on high overlook, with line of sight to the gates and the spaceport entry. One in high cover and stealth near the transport pool in case we have a shot at Nassana directly."

Liara examined her omni-tool, then turned to Telanya. "Is the spike-patch in? I'm not getting the telemetry from the drones."

Telanya's head dipped as she examined her own omni, then nodded. "It's up. Three drones."

Liara turned to Aethyta. "As I said, the Cerberus soldiers will go in the first shuttle. Our group will proceed in two shuttles. My sister and I, yourself, and Tela in one. Thane, Matriarch Trellani, Mr. Dunn, and Morinth in the other. The Black Blades will follow in the fourth shuttle; Thane's remaining Dancers in the fifth. Once we breach the port's airspace, we will need to move hard towards the transport pool."

She transmitted a map to everyone's omni-tool, and Trellani examined it closely. The hotel was set a good distance away from the other two hotels in the port, and the transport parking area was the only direct ground path between it and the spaceport proper.

Liara's voice was still very soft as she continued. "Assuming things go to plan, we land near the shuttle docking area and go in through the side entrance, setting up our position just outside the transport lobby."

Liara tapped her omni and the front of the hotel flashed. "Matriarch Aethyta's mechs storm the main entrance. If the Broker forces react as I expect, heavy combat teams will rush the front, while Tetrimus and a smaller force will attempt to immediately vacate from the side entrance towards the transport pool. That is where we will ambush them with Dancers, the Black Blades, and our own assault. The Cerberus soldiers will dig in near the front and assist the mechs and Thane's snipers in crushing the heavy combat teams so they can't turn around and reinforce Tetrimus."

She cut her omni off. "We have brought along a great deal of anti-biotic ordinance. I suggest you use it. The Black Blades and the Dancers will be required to subdue or distract any accompanying elements while we hit Tetrimus directly. If we begin losing badly, fall back to this point and the shuttles with explosives will cover our retreat."

Dunn's private sub-vocal comm-link to Trellani crackled into life. "_Yeah, this is some straight up suicidal RIU bullshit, Matriarch. You sure about this?"_

She didn't bother to reply verbally, merely patting his shoulder. He gave a sigh then spoke up. "Alright, ladies – so what do we do if they have more shit than we expected? Cuz in an operation like this, you plan for Murphy being a fucking optimist."

Trellani expected the rather obscure human idiom to puzzle the Sisters, as it clearly did to Aethyta and the drell. She noted with interest that the taller one instead gave a bitter laugh and nodded, speaking in a cool tone. "Someone once told me the light at the end of a tunnel was from an oncoming train. We may indeed stumble. I would ask that your orbital forces and mechs perform a combat drop directly on the facility at that time. We have ensured the GTS defenses will not fire."

_Curiouser and curiouser,_ Trellani thought.

Dunn didn't seem to notice the issue, and instead pointed to the city proper. "That's... great. The fighting seems to have trailed off – the asari fleet in orbit will sure as shit notice us, and those boys are in armor covered in our goddamned logo because of our egomaniacal boss. Someone's gonna take offense and maybe take a shot at them."

Liara spread her hands. "Then let us hope your additional forces are not needed immediately. Are there any other concerns?"

Vasir chuckled. "Let's say for once the relli actually takes the bait. We down the heavy combat teams. Thane's dudes murder the baddies, the Blades cut apart that crazy ardat tramp, and we splatter the krogan and whoever else Tetrimus has along, and we actually down Tetrimus. Then what?"

Liara's voice hardened. "Either Matriarch Trellani or, if needed, Morinth will get the information we need from his head. We then kill him and fall back here. Take the ground vehicles back to the warehouse, where I have both alternative transport and a selection of very secure boltholes. If the chaos of the fighting is enough at the time, we can leave in the ship Aethyta brought – if not, we simply wait for the Butcher and the Archangel, and have Matriarch Trellani contact them to extract us."

Dunn muttered under his breath. "If it goes that easy I'll marry a fucking vorcha."

Aethyta finally spoke. "When we go after Tetrimus, close with him quickly. You give that fucker ten seconds and he'll drop a digital decoy and shield it, then go stealth to set up his beam attack. That thing hits you, and you are dead – I saw it hit a human N7 cyborg in heavy armor and thick cover and it blew her to bits." She paused. "Tetrimus has a pistol, four-millimeter nightmare gun that will shoot through even Silaris plating. He's good with flares, warp, very good with a barrier, and knows a lot of obscure turian biotic bullshit none of us have encountered."

Thane spoke. "There is also evidence we have found that his supposed frailty is a sham. He is most likely heavily augmented cybernetically. We hit him sans barrier with an anti-material round six months ago and it did not even stagger him."

Liara glanced around. "Any other tactical information?"

Dunn spoke. "Yeah. One thing we got from armor cams of when we sent people after Shepard's body on Omega. I know two of you were there, but you probably didn't notice – Tetrimus needs five or six seconds to charge and prep that beam attack, and according to what we've found out, he can only use it at long-range. So, like the blademistress said, get in close, fast."

There was a long silence, before it was broken by Tela. "...Aw, fuck it. Let's get this over with."

Trellani nodded to the Centurion team leader. "Centurion Vask, assuming we do not require the combat drop of the rest of your unit, please employ them as Trooper Nozno suggested. I see no reason why I should allow the justicars to enforce the sickening demands of the Thirty upon the innocent."

The Cerberus troops muttered among themselves as the Centurion nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Liara's head tilted. "You do not think things will go badly enough that we need their assistance?"

Trellani smiled behind her own mask. "Child, I think if things have gone badly enough that we need to shout for any fool to see that Cerberus is here, we will probably already be too dead for their assistance to matter."


	41. Arc III: Angstrofuck of Doom Pt 3

_**A/N**:_

_The Angstrofuck of Doom continues and finally delivers what you call came here for - violence. _

_As usual, none of this would be possible without the dedicated assistance of the Editing Gang - seriously, you should see these train-wrecks before they get a chance to fix them up! _

_Also as usual, you should check out Aberron's **Living an Indoctrinated Dream.  
**The Editing Gang made me link this: L. Lamora's **The Game of Champions**_

* * *

_'I have always found people forget the first rule of the waves - they crash upon the shore, and sometimes drag you back out to sea with the undertow. Take care that your actions do not leave you adrift upon an ocean of unforeseen difficulties.'_

_\- Priestess of the Stars Trellani, 2144, presentation to the Assembled Clans_

* * *

From the very beginning, Dunn knew this assault was going to suck.

That the GTS flak cannons protecting the spaceport were quiescent and not blasting them out of the sky didn't ease the queasy feeling in his stomach. The flight was smooth, and as they came down for a landing, he wondered about how good these Sisters really were with their hacking and what-not.

It didn't make sense that they could just waltz in and catch the best of the Broker's people off guard like this. Unless, of course, it was a trap.

The first shuttle had already touched down in the small landing area in front of the hotel proper, while the other shuttles were just now setting down at the larger pad on the other side. The Canni Hotel was, like most asari structures, an elegant arched tower of armaglass and silver bracing spars hanging over a crescent-shaped lobby and amenities area.

Wing-like annexes – gyms, spas, and the like – flanked the rear courtyard and were open to the beach and the sea, separated from the landing area by a high retaining wall to block the noise of shuttles. The west side of the hotel was a low, single-story structure used mostly for large business meetings flanked by smaller landing and parking areas.

His shuttle landed with a thump, the doors slamming open as Morinth took the lead in disembarking, her hands full of a matte-black customized Revenant LMG. He followed her out, his trusty N7 Renegade rifle – the prototype of the modern Valkyrie – a reassuring weight. He checked the immediate vicinity for any hostiles, but the landing area was deserted except for a few service mechs, and the other shuttle had already disgorged the rest of the team.

Thane was already moving ahead, speaking quietly into his comm-link as the rest of the group followed, sticking to the high armaplast walls nearest the hotel. The Dancer listened to something, then spoke to the team, his voice quiet. "My snipers are in position. They report two dug in heavy combat teams in the lobby, and a sniper wet-team on the roof. We have eyes on at least two more teams – unsure of composition – on the top floor, penthouse-level."

Morinth's voice sounded a bit nervous. "Uh, the difference between a wet-team and a heavy combat team is...?"

Telanya's voice was hushed as they rounded the edge of the docking pad toward the entry of the hotel. "Wet-teams are lightly armed snipers and tech-savants, designed to strike hard from stealth – they have a few failed Dancers in their number. Heavy combat teams are elites from all over the galaxy: ex-N7, ex-SIU, ex-STG, and worse. Usually carrying very heavy weapons."

Dunn's experienced gaze took in the glassed doors ahead. "Entryway is not clear. Two guys, black armor, Broker sigil."

Thane spoke. "Hold. I will handle them." He moved into the shadows of the supporting pillars holding up the canopy covering the approach to the entrance... and then just seemingly vanished into thin air.

Aethyta's voice was wry. "And that's why Dancers scare the shit out of me. Last thing you never see coming."

A moment later, a red-coated shape leapt between the two Broker soldiers. His hands moved too fast to see, but one of the soldiers simply collapsed, head lolling sickeningly from a clearly broken neck, while the other sprayed bright blue blood from his torn open throat before Thane viciously knifed him again and lowered him gently to the ground.

Dunn winced. _Fucker's lethal enough. Then again, we have like fifteen goddamned Dancers and a pack of asari blademasters. Why am I even worried? _He smiled behind his helmet. "Looks like we're up."

Liara took a deep breath. "Matriarch Aethyta, kick off the mechs, please. Matriarch Trellani, alert your men to prepare."

Trellani tapped her own comm-link, her voice serene. "Feline, this is Priestess. Time to party." The Centurion Leader merely clicked his mic twice to confirm, even as Aethyta's face was lit by her omni-tool as she triggered a program. A few seconds later, the ground shook and the sound of alarms rang out in every direction.

Tela Vasir turned to her. "...Auntie, what are those mechs carrying for weapons?"

The blademistress laughed. "Mostly mixes of batarian and turian weapons... and a trio of upgraded Cobra blast rifles." The sounds of more explosions and faint screams echoed across the landing area. "And it sounds like Cerberus brought some toys of their own."

Thane gestured. "Good. The east lobby is clear, form up."

Dunn followed the former priestess into the lobby proper, a wide-open space filled with high pillars, curved couches, a fountain surrounding a travel information kiosk, and a blocky set of restrooms – male, female, elcor – in one corner. The middle of the room was dominated by a wide spiral staircase of polished gray-black stones, with a brass handrail running along both sides.

Liara paused. "This lobby is directly below where the main elevators come out at ground level – this is technically a sub-floor. The floor above us is a wide foyer area, leading out towards the main front lobby. If they react as we expect, they should dispatch their teams to secure the front, and head down this way to get to the spaceport."

As she spoke, Trellani took up a position behind a thick pillar, so Dunn set himself next to her, behind the heavy stone of the fountain. Vasir and Morinth tucked in behind the fountain, along with Thane.

The Blades concealed themselves along the sweep of the heavy stone staircase leading down from the hotel, the rest of the Dancers behind the block of restrooms against the wall. Dunn was about to speak when more explosions rocked the hotel, and the faint sounds of screaming could be heard.

Aethyta's voice was a touch tense as she spoke_. "_Get ready. I can't imagine Tetrimus being stupid enough to just come flying down those stairs. We got any eyes on his group?"

Telanya spoke a second later. "Drone telemetry. There's a lot of movement inside. They just hacked the security system, I think, I've got scripts to mess up the internal cameras, but it won't take them long to get past that. Movement in the main elevators."

Another explosion shook the building. Liara tapped her omni-tool in a long pattern. "Crashing a shuttle at the front entrance then sending in the mechs. Thane, any sign of the targets?"

The drell tapped his own comm-link, listening intently to something on a private channel, then nodded. "My people have taken down the roof snipers and are shooting at will. The top floor is empty."

Liara tapped her own omni-tool. "Kicking off the comm-link hacks now. We're going to try to tap into their communications if we can, jam them if we can't."

Dunn just wished this shit was over, as he heard the sound of heavy boots from the landing above the lobby.

**O-TWCD-O**

Tetrimus glanced warily toward the front lobby areas, even as two more of his teams hustled toward the front, rifles ready. Behind him, Nassana and a trio of her people glanced around fearfully as the building shuddered under another blast.

He turned to the giant krogan standing next to him. "Thax, head up and figure out who's hitting us. Midnight's Kiss and her team form up around Nassana. Immutable, see if you can get control back of the security systems. Brek, take your heavy combat units to back up the ones at the front."

He tapped his omni, and then cursed. "Where is my damned comm-net to the backup forces and Tazzik?"

One of the salarian tech-savants was typing furiously on a portable unit, eyes narrowing and expression drawn back into a grimace. "Hacked, Ginnister. Over two thousand runtimes. I'm trying to reroute."

The cool, monotone voice of the Immutable spoke. "All comms are down. Externals are jammed with multiple VI systems. They correspond to known Sisters of Vengeance attack routines. The entire security net is compromised. I am slowly regaining control, but ETA until I have complete access is over one megasecond."

Another tech-savant shouted over more explosions. "Ginnister, we're locked out from external security and all perimeter defenses are down! We can't even link to the spaceport."

Tetrimus nodded. "I should have expected this. No matter." He turned to the other Broker soldiers surrounding them. "Team Ziha and Urha, clear the lower lobby area and make sure we have a clear run to the spaceport. Teams Vita through Mentos, prepare pursuit disengagement – set up here, blow the elevator shafts, and drop mines."

He turned to the three heavy combat teams. "Tyra, Lentha, and Vorsk teams, once the lobby's secure, move to clear a path to the spaceport and the frigate, and take control of spaceport security. Blow the comm relays there so no one tips the justicars off to what we're doing."

The bulky figure of Thax Varun in the distance gave a snort, his voice on the comm-link harsh. _"We're not fleeing, surely."_

Tetrimus gestured toward the front lobby, where a pair of Broker soldiers attempting to snipe were blasted to pieces by incoming Hydra missiles. "If you really want to run straight into a full-out assault, be my guest, krogan. The spaceport will be easier to defend than this shantha nest."

The krogan's voice was musing. _"Assuming they haven't already taken up positions there."_

Tetrimus shrugged. "I suspect we'll know shortly."

**O-TWCD-O**

The comm-link tap the Sisters had set up worked just fine. Liara's face twisted in hate behind her helmet as she recognized the confident voice barking orders. She glanced over at Thane, speaking softly. "They are sending out scouts."

Thane's voice was almost a whisper. "Yes. I can hear them already. We must kill them fast – and we cannot make much noise – they are not that far from us. Take them _silently_."

She nodded, and shifted her weapon to her holster as her free hand clenched around her warp sword. Trellani had already quietly drawn hers as the sound of boots hitting steps echoed down to their floor.

There was a pause, as the soldiers paused on the landing above them. _"First floor, clear. Heading down. Double up, be ready to rush."_ Then more clattering footfalls echoed.

Two five-man teams of figures – turian and asari – in black armor and readied small arms rushed down the stone staircase. The first two had no time to even register the presence of others before Trellani flung a blade of kinetic force, while she used a lift to pull them to the side and gently drop them on the floor.

Thane and Aethyta both made hand gestures as the soldiers stumbled to a halt. The right-side team was hit by four perfectly thrown daggers of green and silver, each one propelled by biotics to cruelly devastating speeds. Three men went down instantly, falling to the ground silently as biotics enfolded them, the last clutched his throat and sank to his knees.

Even as they fell, the Black Blades had opened up with sound-suppressed rifles and utterly silent pulls. Jerking the men off their feet, they had no chance as each one was headshot, then slowly lowered to the ground. A moment later, one of the Blades lifted the entire group of corpses up and out of the way.

Ten Broker soldiers, dead in under a second. Dunn was pretty impressed, but gripped his rifle tighter as more screams rang out from above.

The comm-link tap crackled into life again, with a rough, heavy voice speaking. _"Tetrimus. I'm at the front. There are several enemy snipers, in the distance, almost eighty heavily armed and armored mechs, and some kind of team of asari or humans in heavy black armor, across from the plaza. The rooftop unit was slaughtered. And those soldiers out front are shelling the building with a plasma mortar. You have put us in a trap, turian."_

Tetrimus's voice, calm and collected. _"No, Thax, the entire hotel is bait. I've got eight teams in hiding in that front lobby, when they storm in we'll end them. And we have five more and two heavies at the spaceport. Still, let's get moving – the Sisters are crazy enough to hit the hotel with a ship or..."_

The clack of a cane on stone steps sounded over the comm-link and then didn't repeat. Dunn's teeth clenched. And then he heard a curse. _"Team Ziha, Urha, respond."_

Silence, and then the heavy, rough voice again sounded over the comm-link. _"You were saying something about this being a trap, I believe?"_

_"Silence. It may be more comms jamming. Cena Dantius, please stay back. This is likely to get... messy. Tyra, Lentha, Vorsk. Clear a path through whatever is down there, or if Ziha and Urha are there, send two men back with a manual report. Everyone else, form up."_

The clatter of boots on steps came again, and this time the teams charging down were aware they were headed into danger. A trio of smoke grenades clanked down the steps, exploding into thick, blinding smoke.

Trellani merely smiled and gestured, her biotics lighting up the entire room as the smoke hit an invisible wall, and then was pushed back up the staircase. Curses rang out from the figures as some unexpectedly stumbled, and they rushed down, firing wildly as they broke through the smoke.

Dunn fired on the first one he saw, joined by most of the rest. The first five Broker soldiers down the stairs died instantly, transfixed by rifle shots, although they did manage to score a few hits on Tela Vasir's barrier.

The rank behind them threw themselves into rolls, two diving off the side of the staircase to land below, right into the Black Blades, the other five flinging grenades.

A pair of warp swords left trails of blue fire and two headless corpses fell to the ground, even as the other five soldiers who'd rolled out of the way were caught in a blast of warpfire that blackened the steps and left them screaming and burning for a second before dying. The flung grenades exploded, shattering the barrier of one of the Dancers, while another grenade was contained by Vasir with a biotic field.

The last two turian soldiers were bigger, clearly cybernetic, and Tela Vasir shot one of them in the head with her oversized shotgun, blasting apart the turian's entire face to reveal the plated steel underneath. He staggered back, and then one of the Black Blades threw her warp sword, the blade going completely through his chest to the hilt, pinning him to the central spire of the staircase.

The second cyborg was hit by a huge blade of biotic energy from Trellani, which bisected the soldier mid-chest, spilling blue blood and a mix of organs and metallic components into a messy pile even as the Black Blade who'd thrown her sword used a pull to retrieve it, catching it out of the air with a snort.

Remembering the First Rule of Not Dying Like an Idiot, Dunn checked the soldiers quickly to make sure they were actually dead, before scuttling back into cover. As he did so, he shook his head at the stupidity of their charge.

Granted, the Broker goons were probably used to being the badasses of any situation, the staircase was a really bad place to have to launch an assault from, and walking into a room of snipers and biotics was pretty stupid, but still...

Seconds ticked by, broken only by the continued sounds of the assault outside. Then the comm-link sounded. _"Team Tyra, respond."_

A few seconds passed before the heavier voice spoke again. _"I'm headed back to your position. We have a problem."_

Tetrimus's voice was dry, _"Yes, clearly there's something nasty down there."_

A third voice intruded, female and almost whispery. _"You have a dozen more teams elsewhere on the planet, why not simply wait for reinforcement?"_

Tetrimus spoke, a hint of frustration in his tone. _"I've been trying to comm Tazzik – or any team outside of short-range comm-link distance– since the first explosion. Somehow they have us jammed. Besides, this is a hotel, not a fortress. They could simply blast through the structural supports and drop it on our heads. We have to get out."_

The voice of the krogan was again amused. _"And there are only two ways out of here. The front is covered with snipers and heavy weapons, and your teams are being shot to pieces. The lobby down there is clearly filled with something bad, and we have to go down a spiral staircase to reach it. Brilliant tactical planning."_

Tetrimus's voice was almost amused sounding. _"Yes, well, when facing the vakar on foot, you do what comes naturally, Thax."_

_"And what might that be?"_

_"Take a third option."_

**O-TWCD-O**

Tetrimus scanned the surroundings from the waiting area above. The west and north were out, due to the frontal assault. Going down a blind staircase into an open area with no cover and someone or something waiting for him was equally stupid.

Losing Dantius at this point wasn't an option – the Broker _needed_ the intel she had on the Thirty. More than that, Dantius had connections and information on Aria – information they could still use to take the Queen of Omega out.

But Dantius wasn't a combatant, and getting her to the spaceport proper would be tricky if they were under assault. He glanced to the south, the wide-open expanse of recreational area and beach, flanked by the retaining wall of the landing zone.

If whoever attacking him had penetrated the security nets, the defenses, and had him trapped here, the chances the spaceport was actually clear was about zero. He thought for a moment, then smiled.

"Immutable. You and Midnight's Kiss will head south, I'll blow the wall. Engage and destroy whoever is assaulting us and take the rest of the teams to the spaceport. I'll take Dantius and her people and get to the vehicles we left in the west parking area. Keep them distracted. Once I'm clear of this damnable jamming, I'll call in backup."

The vorcha-AI hybrid merely nodded, its cybernetic eyes glowing faintly. Midnight's Kiss inclined her head, her voice soft. "And the krogan?"

Tetrimus shrugged. "He'll be with you. Don't let them follow." He turned to the southern wall, and with a gesture blew it out with a powerful push, plascrete and glass shattering and flying outwards. "Go."

The ardat-yakshi assassin nodded, as she and her followers leapt down from the now shattered edge of the lobby floor. Tetrimus turned to three of his soldiers. "Team Mentos, you're with me. The rest of you, engage." He turned to Nassana Dantius. "Change of plans. Come with me."

**O-TWCD-O**

Dunn was about to suggest maybe moving upwards when there was a roaring blast of some kind, and the sound of shattering glass. A second later, Telanya cursed, her voice full of anger. "Tetrimus just blew a hole in the south foyer, they're getting away!"

Liara immediately glanced to Aethyta. "Chase?"

Aethyta sighed and shook her head.. "Chasing him is what he probably wants. Easier to get is in an ambush that way. Why else would he be running?" She paused. "Thane, can your snipers pin them?"

Thane shook his head, then turned to his Dancers. "No. But my people here can. Head towards the shuttle area and scale the wall. Occupy them."

Liara tapped a control on her omni-tool. "I am going to crash shuttles to block them in. We need to move, blow a hole in the retaining wall and engage them there."

Dunn glanced up. "They still got guys up there, don't they? What if this is some fucked up double bluff to get us to move?"

Telanya pulled off one of the belts of grenades that crisscrossed her chest, then did something with her omni-tool and flung the belt near the stairs. "Prox grenades. If they come this way, it should drop the staircase and maybe part of the lobby on them, enough to let us know they're here and probably trapped in rubble. Let's all move out; this lobby is a confined area."

The little group headed out, rifles covering their movement. As they exited the lobby another explosion sounded, this one much closer than before. Screams and the rumbling sound of collapsing masonry echoed from the south.

Telanya's voice was bitter. "I crashed a shuttle at them. I think Midnight's Kiss blocked it, or Tetrimus – too much smoke and dust to make it out. It should pin them for a few minutes, at least."

Thane shook his head. "It will not take a biotic of his skill long to remove the debris." He tapped his comm-link. "Shalai, move in, fastest speed, go for the kill."

Aethyta grimaced as they rounded the corner, coming upon the retaining wall separating the shuttle landing area from the beach expanse to the south. "Need to punch a hole in that, climbing is too risky."

Trellani nodded. "A moment, if you would."

She planted her warp sword into the ground, closed her eyes, focusing her strength, then flung her left hand out. Six bright lines of warpfire smashed into the wall, immediately melting the armaplast where they hit, and then a singularity appeared in the middle. There was a blinding flash and a roar of displaced air, and a wave that buffeted the entire group a bit.

Dunn gaped at the five-meter-wide hole blown in the meter-thick wall, as the smoke from the blast cleared. Trellani wavered for a second and he steadied her with his free hand, even as the Black Blades charged ahead.

She picked up her sword and gestured. "We must move, Mr. Dunn." She followed the Sisters into the breach with him hot on her heels.

The southern expanse of the hotel was a lined pathway leading to the beach, set off here and there with comfortable beach furniture and an open-air pavilion stage for live performances. The southern lobby entrance was just gone, smoking from both the explosion of the shuttle and the exit hole Tetrimus blew through the second floor.

A thick pack of Broker soldiers was hastily digging in, scrambling for cover in the debris left behind from the explosion. As the team scrambled through the wall, they opened fire. One of the Black Blades took a hit in the leg and stumbled, two of her fellow Blades catching her and dragging her into cover.

Behind the Broker soldiers, a small knot of asari surrounded a very large krogan. The asari were moving outwards, flinging rubble out of their way with biotics.

Dunn barely had time to dodge as the Broker's soldiers continued their suppressive fire, cursing as a shot creased the armor plate of his shoulder. He slammed into cover behind an armaplast ledge holding an area light, spraying rounds from his rifle to suppress them as best he could.

Thane's Dancers exploded into motion from atop the wall, flinging biotic blasts as they fell upon the back-line of the Broker soldiers, even as the Black Blades seemed to kanquess as one and crash into the charging asari near Midnight's Kiss. The two groups of asari met in a blinding mess of biotics and warp swords, the screeching clash of warp-blade against warp-blade deafening.

The Dancers tore through the Broker's soldiers, kicking and lashing out with all kinds of biotics. But these were not inexperienced men – they fought back, drawing omni-blades and shotguns, turning the entire fight into a wild melee.

Tela's eyes narrowed as she shot one Broker soldier. "Where is Tetrimus?"

Aethyta and Trellani were moving out of cover, the latter firing bolts of warpfire at the Broker's soldiers. The krogan charged out to meet them, and Aethyta erupted into the kanquess, coming out directly in front of the krogan and slashing him across the leg. That drew both a roar of pain and a line of blood from him. He swung his hammer back in a wide arc with both hands, forcing Aethyta to flash-step back to avoid having her skull crushed.

Trellani employed the kanquess herself, coming out near the Dancers as they fought the Broker soldiers, stopping a burst of fire from killing one with a barrier. A second later she lashed out, her warp sword scything through two Broker soldiers to bury itself into the face of a third before he exploded in a channeled shockwave.

A snarling sound erupted from above her, as the Immutable leapt into the fray. Standing over two meters tall, it was half-naked, wearing nothing but thick black pants and armor-plated boots. Its upper body was a dark red, thick scars flanking exposed cybernetic implants and bulging with subdermal armor.

Its landing coincided with it triggering a plasma thrower, sending a plume of white-hot energy at Trellani. She managed to flash-step out of the way, but the big vorcha was already moving, kicking out at her and driving her back.

Dunn fired his rifle at the thing, stitching rounds across its chest to try and distract it, but it continued forward. A pair of Dancers put down their opponents and rushed the thing, knives glittering with warpfire. The Immutable only smiled as they slammed into him, both achieving instant-kill blows against his form.

The vorcha laughed, grabbing one and triggering the plasma thrower built into the arm, immolating the drell instantly. The other one flipped back, warpfire roaring out to hit the vorcha. Its thick reddish skin melted away, revealing steel spars and some kind of hexagonal mesh that seemed to glow as the Immutable dropped the smoking corpse of the first Dancer and turned on the second one. The drell dodged several lashing kicks and spurts of high-energy plasma, but none of the hits he landed in return even slowed the thing down.

Trellani moved forward, free hand flexing as she hit it with a blast of pure biotic energy, strong enough to send it flying back from the Dancer to smash into a nearby wall. It snarled and leapt forward, ignoring the stream of warpfire the asari threw at it to crash into the drell, long claws tearing into him and sending blood flying.

The Dancer did not die easily, though, clamping his hand over the Immutable's face, which erupted into a blazing ball of warp energies a moment later. With a howl, the thing hoisted him up with one arm and flung him at Trellani, who had no time to soften or block the impact that sent them both to the ground in a tangled heap.

Dunn shifted his fire to the Broker soldiers, seeing as some of them had broken through the Dancers still killing them. The drell assassins had spread out, the sounds of weapons fire and the screams of the wounded underlain with their whispery battle chants as they dodged and flipped to avoid being hit. Biotics, sometimes normal and sometimes green-tinted, lashed out in all directions, from blades of force like the asari used to burning lances of light that smashed the black-armored soldiers to paste against walls or plucked off limbs.

At least a third of the enemy were already dead, but despite this the Dancers were all wounded and being pushed back, as even more Broker grunts were storming out of the shattered wall now, firing as they came.

Aethyta's Black Blades were still locked in frantic, high-speed biotic and sword combat with Midnight's Kiss and her ardats, while Aethyta herself had taken the krogan on with Tela assisting, the two dodging wild swings and pushing him back steadily.

Morinth killed a pair of Broker soldiers with a blazing blue blast of light so bright it left afterimages in Dunn's vision, the explosion following erupting into towering shockwaves tipped with warpfire that scattered another pack of them.

Liara killed another as Dunn shouted, "The fucking vorcha! Kill it!"

Liara glanced at the charging monster, who was almost on top of Trellani and the wounded dancer, and erupted into a run, using her parkour biotics to hop a tumbled piece of supporting wall and open fire. Telanya followed, rapid firing her rifle, distracting shots that peppered the beast.

The AI merely took the shots as if they were meaningless, hissing as it ducked under another kick from the wounded Dancer before catching him by the leg and, in a blindingly fast move, swung him around, up, and then down.

Trellani tried to stop his impact, but the drell's head hit the rubble-strewn plascrete with a sickening thud, blood flying from his mouth as his neck snapped almost instantly. Liara yelled in anger and flung a blade invocation at the giant monstrosity, which only staggered back, the reddish skin covering its cybernetic undercarriage already regenerating.

The thing turned to Trellani, swinging those lethal claws at her, but the priestess blocked him with a biotic wall, stopping him cold. As he rebounded, her warp sword flashed out, carving a burning line across the thing's chest, blackening the metal plating beneath it. It gave a coughing howl and, still ignoring the fire from Liara and Telanya, pulled some kind of device from its belt, throwing it to the ground.

Liara and Telanya stumbled as the phase dissipation bomb went off, washing over the area. Trellani screamed as her wall collapsed, and the Immutable lashed out with a powerful scything backhand that caught her across the face, sending the asari through the air to crash into a heap atop broken rubble.

Dunn cursed, but couldn't break cover to help – the Dancers were hard-pressed now. Even outnumbered ten to one they were still killing the Broker's goons, but nearly all of them were littered with wounds now, their red coats seeping with lifeblood, and still more black-armored bastards poured out of the hotel.

Morinth gave him a glance. "We're going to have to rush them, you ready?"

Dunn closed his eyes. "Jesus fuck, this is worse than Neutron. Let's go, blue."

With a yell, the two launched themselves forward, Dunn firing as fast as he could aim, not even kill shots, just spraying fire to confuse and suppress, while the ardat flung more warpfire in a wide arc, incinerating half a dozen of the Broker's men in a single pass.

The Dancers broke close melee and fell back with acrobatic leaps and biotic jumps, leaving over thirty dead Broker troops and two dead Dancers behind. Morinth flung a pair of singularities, one with each hand, the unstable gravity fields sending the Broker lines into disarray, and Dunn slammed into new cover, dropping his rifle to throw a plasma grenade. He gritted his teeth as it exploded violently, sending burning splatters of melted armaplast in all directions and killing four or five more of the enemy.

Nine Dancers scrambled into cover, most panting and clearly spent. The only one not badly wounded was Thane, and even he was clutching his shoulder, greenish drell blood spilling from his fingertips. "Your assistance saved our lives, darashu. We are in your debt."

Dunn picked up his rifle and gutshot another Broker goon as the singularities exploded, killing more of them. "Don't mention it. Fuck! We can't hold them here!"

Thane pulled out a slender pistol and began firing as well. "We have no choice. Where is Tetrimus?"

Dunn didn't bother answering, as he saw the Sisters of Vengeance close in with the big vorcha cyborg. The Immutable hissed laughter and sprayed plasma at them both, but Liara's hands came up and a brilliant wall of blue light stopped the plasma from hitting them. Even as she did so, Telanya came up on his left side, firing rapidly with her Spear of Athame rifle, shots punching through the barrel-like chest of the vorcha abomination.

Jerking, the vorcha roared as he launched himself forward, buffeting Telanya out of the way with a powerful kick as he slammed into Liara with a shoulder charge that sent the far more lightly built asari flying back, her gun and warp sword slipping from her grasp.

Telanya didn't hesitate, triggering her omni-blade and jamming it into the thing's back with a savage thrust. It gave a coughing howl and swung at her with a backhand that she ducked, rolling and coming up with her rifle pointed at its head.

The Immutable had no time to react as it was shot point-blank in the face with five warp rounds, staggering back with an awful cry of agony and digital pain. Liara got to her feet, her furious expression hidden by her mask, and flung warpfire with a scream of rage. The blue energy enfolded it and overloaded its defensive ablative matrix before blasting completely through the vorcha's body, which finally crashed to the ground in a heap.

Liara looked up as a roar of triumph sounded, as Thax smashed through a fumbled block and crushed Aethtya's shoulder with a heavy blow. Tela dashed in with her own warp sword, lashing a long and ugly cut down the krogan's side, but he took the hit with relish, eyes dancing with what looked like amusement as he reversed his swing.

Tela blocked, but the power behind the krogan's cybernetic arms was incredible, and the hammer smashed her to the ground, driving into her armor with such force that it drove rib bones into her lung. The faceplate of her helmet was spattered with blood as she screamed, which trailed off into a racking wheeze. Thax laughed and kicked her sword away and rolled his shoulders, muzzle split in an ugly grin.

Dunn swallowed. Trellani was down, Aethyta was down, both the Sisters probably spent, the Dancers nearly dead, and the Black Blades were still tied up with the ardats and Midnight's Kiss. He could only grimace as the krogan lifted his hammer to finish Vasir, and then he sighed and leapt forward, ignoring the shots from the Broker's soldiers as he dropped his rifle to pull out a sticky grenade.

He flung it, watching it land directly on the upper armor of the krogan, who only could glance down before it went off with a blinding flash and a deafening bang. Thax staggered back, and Dunn lashed out with his strongest right cross, the power of his own cybernetic arms driving steel knuckles right into the krogan's muzzle.

He actually sent the krogan staggering back two steps, blinking angrily. "...You dare?"

Dunn laughed thinly as he slammed one cybernetic fist into another. "Never beat the shit out of a krogan before. Think you can take me?" He circled the bigger alien, moving away from Vasir's prone form.

Thax paused to laugh, a gleam of grudging respect in his eyes. "At least one of you has a spine. Good." An all too toothy smile. "I love breaking those." The krogan charged, and Dunn just knew this was going to suck.

He ducked under the first blow, thankful he'd trained so hard with Ezno in hand-to-hand combat over the years, and returned a powerful body blow that cracked the big alien's armor and drew a grunt of pain from the krogan. Thax's return hits he managed to block with his arms, wincing at their power.

Stumbling back from a powerful overhand right, he slipped the follow-up punch and launched a kick when Thax was unbalanced, making him bend as he nearly fell. With every bit of power he had, he brought his fist directly down into the krogan's crest, feeling bone splinter beneath his blow.

Thax gave a howl of agony, stepping back and blinking angrily. "You are going to die slowly for that human," he said as his hands fingered the damage to his crest.

Dunn merely gave a bitter smile. "Dude, do you have _any idea_ how many times I've heard that? If you're getting your ass beaten by a human, I don't think I need to worry."

He grinned as Thax charged. If he could keep the krogan angry and off-balance, maybe he could survive this.

**O-TWCD-O**

While the Broker's soldiers and the forces the Sisters of Vengeance brought to the fight were clashing, the Black Blades were utterly focused on their fight with Midnight's Kiss and her Dark Sisterhood.

The Black Blades prided themselves on being blademistresses, but also soldiers. Each one had mastered a dozen forms of combat, from sniping and demolitions work to flying human-style fighters, and most of them used biotics to enhance their speed, strength, and killing power rather than flashy and direct applications. They were blunt, crude, and proof positive that asari were the supreme lifeforms in the galaxy.

If they had a fell reputation, it was due to their hard-earned prowess. They cut apart whatever target they went after, and they disdained silly things like causes and moral righteousness in pursuit of their passion – combat. They were cold and perhaps even cruel, but they only reflected the ugliness of war.

The Dark Sisterhood, on the other hand, were just monsters. Rapists, assassins, seductresses that always ended the lives of those foolish enough – or unfortunate enough – to fall into their grasp. Once the most terrifying of the Nightwind, their leader's abandonment of the cause had resulted in some of the most powerful ardat-yakshi following her and seeking power for themselves.

They had no goal aside from consuming the lives of those that fell into their grasp and drinking in the terror their very existence produced. They had no pride except in how powerless others were to stop them.

If the Blades were war made flesh, then the Dark Sisterhood was simply evil given tangible form. And in such a clash, there was no quarter sought nor given, only unyielding hate from both sides.

The biotics of the ardats were far more powerful than the Blades, but to their frustration, that didn't seem to help them. The Blades had long ago specialized in how to take apart powerful biotics, and while they didn't use much offensive biotics, their barriers were tremendously powerful.

The battle was fast and chaotic, the Blades utilizing the flash-step so quickly and with such experience that hurling warpfire or blades of force was not only bound to miss, but leave their user open for a decapitating slash. Worse, any use of simplistic attempts to throw the Blades off, like push or lift, was all too often reversed on them, leaving the user helpless for a few seconds.

The Blades didn't need a few seconds to end a life. Three dead ardats already proved this point.

The strongest of the Blades after Aethyta, Smiya, was locked into combat with Midnight's Kiss herself. Given the reputation of the ardat-yakshi leader, Smiya found herself disappointed. While very skilled with a blade and with enough biotic power to nearly match a war priestess, the ardat simply didn't have the experience needed to keep up.

The older asari snarled as she evaded another blast of furious warpfire that turned the section of wall behind her into bubbling, half-melted goop, lashing out with the sword in a shores-echo pattern that Midnight's Kiss barely parried. Two more blows followed up in an oceans-storm riposte that nearly wrenched the warp sword from the ardat's hands.

She danced back from a brutally fast stab, however, smiling a bit as she angled her blade to deflect it away and counter with a stab of her own, which the ardat blocked with a hastily dropped wall invocation. The use of such defensive biotics was the only reason Midnight's Kiss was still alive.

"For a murdering tramp, you aren't half bad." Smiya swung her blade in a flat arc, smirking as the ardat fell for the feint. She flash-stepped to the side even as she rotated her wrist and reversed her swing in a sweeping motion, slashing another cut into the now tattered armor of the ardat. "But you aren't that good either."

Midnight's Kiss hissed as she fell back, already bleeding from half a dozen shallow wounds. She watched another of her acolytes fall, grimacing as the ardat had her head cut clean off by a backwards swing from the Blade that had literally danced past her thrown biotics.

It finally hit her. Despite outnumbering the Blades, they were losing. Another ardat died in a scream of agony, as the Blade slashed through her guard and then literally bisected the other asari with a single overhand chop that spoke of immense strength.

They couldn't win this fight.

Midnight's Kiss narrowed her eyes before bringing up the blade again, noting absently the edge was notched in places. She had to get clear, to make this a biotic fight instead of a sword fight. "You aren't bad either, for an ancient, doddering wreck cast aside by your own government." She smiled and feinted at a charging swing.

"Wow, did you think of that one by yourself?" Smiya's voice was mocking as she flash-stepped back, but that was the opening the ardat wanted. Drawing on every bit of biotic power she had, she flung it into a powerful flare, right at the tangled combat between the Blades and the Dark Sisterhood.

She'd kill her own, but they were dead anyway. Best to kill the enemy with them, and improve her own odds of survival. She laughed as she saw the anger and helplessness in Smiya's eyes as the blast of biotic power detonated.

And was deflected, crawling impotently over a strong wall invocation. Beyond the combatants, the battered form of Trellani slowly rose to her feet, eyes blazing with anger.

"Feeble child, you have preyed on others long enough." Trellani's hands erupted in biotic light, and Midnight's Kiss snarled as she blocked the powerful blast of warpfire that almost tore through her barrier.

Her eyes widened as she realized she'd left herself open, a moment before tearing agony seared through her spine as Smiya cut her apart. The ardat staggered, bleeding from the smoking wound, unable to catch her balance. The Blade sneered and slashed again, this time a killing blow that carved through her right arm to her chest.

Trellani turned from the Blades to the form of the huge krogan, who had blocked Dunn's furious flurry of punches. While the krogan was hurt – an imprint of a fist was indented into the krogan's head plate – Dunn had clearly taken some hits himself, gasping in pain and limping. The human ducked under another thunderous punch, then he locked Thax's arm with a wrap-under grasp – much like a dog's jaw, krogan limbs couldn't generate nearly as much force for opening than for closing – and with a yell of exertion, flipped the gigantic alien over the fulcrum of his hip, kicking him in face viciously.

Before Trellani could react, however, the krogan's own legs snapped out, smashing Dunn's knee. He stumbled, off-balance, and Thax rose with a single motion of flowing power, his own cybernetic fist rising in a smooth arc to strike Dunn directly in the head with a savage sounding crack. The blow lifted the human clear off his feet before crashing to the ground, blood flying from his mouth.

Grimacing, Trellani gathered her strength and extended her hand.

Three bands of scintillating blue energy lashed out, wrapping around the krogan as she lifted him into the air. He snarled and reached for something on his belt, but Trellani had endured enough of anti-biotic devices.

Crawling black energies erupted over the krogan, a moment before Trellani gave a yell of focus and hurled a tangled, chaotic storm of biotic blades at him, the edges howling as they drew in the surrounding air and glowed hotly. The whirling pack of blades hit Thax dead-on, carving huge hunks of flesh and armor away before she detonated the annihilation field over him, blasting the heavy krogan six meters away.

He smashed into the rubble of the hotel wall, dropping to a bloodied, steaming heap atop the wreckage. Trellani glanced at the Blades, as the last three ardats tried and failed to hold off attacks from six warp swords and died seconds later.

The Dancers, firing from cover, had wrought havoc on the Broker soldiers, who were pulling back with all of their heavy hitters downed. Trellani flung a blast of warpfire at them before turning to the crumpled form of Dunn.

She grimaced, as from the awkward angle of his head, it was clear Thax's last blow had broken his neck. If the human had not stepped in when he had, Thax probably would have killed Tela Vasir. To engage the krogan in hand-to-hand combat was perhaps foolish, but no one could ever doubt Dunn's bravery.

She picked up her warp sword, glancing around the smoky, shattered courtyard. Bodies – dozens of the Broker's black-armored troops, two Blades, and six Dancers – lay dead or dying on the plastcrete or strewn over the patio furniture, blocks of rubble, and other debris.

The Sisters of Vengeance each spared a moment to glance around the battlefield before the shorter one levered a badly shaken Tela Vasir up while the taller one attended to Aethyta. Trellani glanced over her shoulder as Thane limped forward.

"We have triumphed. And yet Tetrimus is not here. We cannot let him escape."

Thane nodded wearily. "My men have sniper rifles, if he tries to leave via ground car they can take a shot."

Trellani's voice was tired and soft as she spoke. "I do not think he will flee."

**O-TWCD-O**

Nassana was nearly out of breath as she stumbled down the steps of the western annex, her aides barely keeping up. For all of the stories of Tetrimus being slow and crippled, she understood now what a bitter lie that was.

The old turian had hustled to get her here, along with a trio of Broker soldiers. The three ground cars were still parked, and the turian finally stopped, not even breathing hard. "Good. Setaas, Gien – each one of you take a single car. Virtua, you take the third. Nassana and her people will go with Virtua, the other two cars will act as decoys. Virtua, take Nassana to Northpoint."

He glanced at the other two soldiers. "Once you two are clear of jamming, contact Tazzik at once, tell him the Sisters are here and we need to go to Plan B – have him reinforce our bug-out location at Northpoint with all remaining teams in the city, and to bring the rest of the HCTs with him to find me. Once he acknowledges, fall back to Northpoint yourselves if you are sure you are not being followed."

Nassana finally caught her breath. "You are... not coming with us?"

Tetrimus shook his head. "No. While I rarely if ever disengage from a battle... this?" He waved his talons vaguely in the direction of the battle in the distance. "This is some tork-shit. I was only expecting the Sisters, not a band of Dancers, a dozen Black Blades, sirefucking war robots, a spirits-damned war priestess, and whatever else they brought with them." He grunted. "Not to mention I thought I killed two of those people and have no idea how they survived."

Nassana frowned. She knew well enough to pull away from a deal that had clearly gone sour, but stories of Tetrimus made it out as if he were invincible. "I find it... strange you were unprepared."

He flicked a mandible in irritation. "I'd expected to have Tazzik on hand before they struck – Thax and the others are strong, but not as strong as that. Even so, only a fool does not plan for expectations to go awry."

Nassana nodded slowly. "You're leaving the others to die, then? A smart move. Underlings can always be replaced, after all."

He flicked a mandible. "They knew the risks. But no, I'm not abandoning them. At the very least, they literally can't kill the Immutable, and while Midnight's Kiss is worthless in the long-run to our cause, Thax is not. I'll go back."

He tapped his omni, loading up some programs. "While Thax and the others are strong enough to have taken the edge off of our enemies, I doubt they can finish them, and the last thing we need is for them to pursue you further. You are vital to our interests – the data you have will provide us the perfect distraction."

He straightened. "So, I'll let them chase me. I have a little surprise of my own for them."

**O-TWCD-O**

Samara found herself frustrated.

The pacification of Ilium had run into a number of problems, and the media frenzy regarding their actions was not abating. Worse, the initial success they'd had in cutting a swath through the outer slums had been halted by the plasma bomb attack, sniping assaults on her justicars, and higher than expected casualties amongst the Republican Guard.

The Guard, in turn, had reacted with entirely too much firepower, despite Samara's strict orders to only fire when fired upon. The Code did not offer mercy, but it did not justify needless violence, either. The majority of the poor in the slums had attempted to flee, some succeeding – and the disorganized mess that those who'd stayed and fought had created had dragged their progress to a halt.

She'd adjusted as well as she could. They had pulled back their Guard forces and reorganized them, sending roughly half the Republican Guard on the planet to finish cleaning out the dens of iniquity in outer Nos Astra, while the rest pacified what they had taken in already. So far, nine ardat-yakshi had been found and destroyed, with evidence of more.

That was an appallingly high number of ardats for an entire world, much less a single city. Worse, they'd found parts of some kind of asari slave-breaking station, probably owned by off-world batarian slavers, but operated by turians. The facility had been fiercely defended and over two hundred Republican Guard along with a justicar had died to storm it.

Now there were alerts coming in from the southern industrial spacedock of some kind of firefight, panicked reports of plasma mortar shelling, and high-intensity jamming. She didn't want to split her forces further; given the chance, the leaders of Ilium – or more ardats, including her daughter – might somehow slip away.

Before she could make up her mind on how to address this issue, however, another alarm rang out in the spaceport's traffic control tower turned makeshift command center. A Clan data engineer looked up in alarm from her console. "Justicar... fire-teams Setha Nine and Ten report they have been repulsed from the city's FTL comm-link center by heavy Blue Suns units fielding gunships and battle-suits. All forces report additional units advancing on our positions."

Even as she finished her sentence the large haptic viewscreen on the far side of the control room illuminated, the emergency broadcast signal usurping the news station Samara had kept half an eye on. The plain and cold features of Matriarch Anhira Solaha, the leader of the Ilium Council, highest-ranking clanless of the Ilium Court of Corporations, stared out from the screen.

_"People of Ilium. People of the Citadel Concord. And, of course, my sisters in the thrall of the Thirty in the Republics._

_"You have seen the brutality of the Thirty as they have attacked our world. They came stating they were here to deal with the unrest and damage caused by the beings known as the Sisters of Vengeance, and to go after a dangerous criminal. But the truth has been laid bare. They have arrested standing members of this Council, assaulted and murdered both asari civilians and alien guests, and have declared martial law in defiance of the Citadel Accords of Sapient Rights and our own independent charter."_

The clanless inclined her head. _"No doubt, they seek to unseat the Court of Corporations from this world. To take what we, the clanless, have built with our own hands, our own hard work, our own losses... and make us one more kneeling batch of slaves. They did not come in peace, nor did they come at our request._

_"They have lied to you, my people. They have taken in the CEO of Starshine, who we identified as being the company that produced not only the plasma bomb they claim killed a justicar, but also the ship that destroyed the lives of countless thousands in the FTL plotter incident. They are framing us as the instigators of violence, accusing us of committing vague 'crimes' while they attempt to turn our world into a grim example of the results of defiance of the Thirty."_

She took a deep breath. _"It is clear they expect us to surrender. To simply let them take from us what we have worked for. They expect us to kneel, as many others have. It is also clear the rest of the galaxy is too weak and cowardly to stop them. The Citadel Council will not act. There is too much fear of how the Thirty will respond if anyone gainsays their will."_

The Matriarch stared hard at the screen. _"But the Thirty have miscalculated. They abandoned us for centuries, returned only to steal from us, and now they attempt to conquer us? Never. We will not surrender. We will _not _flee. We will throw your slave armies and justicar lackeys off our independent world and dare the Thirty to claim they are acting legally or in the right."_

Her gaze narrowed as she spoke. _"We _know_ what you have done, how you have lied to us, and the truth about what you plan for us. And knowing what you really are, and what you did, we will never kneel in supplication to your filthy House of Storms again. This is your final warning. Leave and do not return."_

The signal cut out, and Samara closed her eyes. There would be ugly questions on the extranet about the meaning of that last, vague statement. The Thirty would likely order her to retaliate with something extreme if she did not miss her guess.

Despite the ruthless nature of the suppression so far, no one could contest the outer slums were genuinely full of criminals and horrors. If the CEOs had simply surrendered – or fled – this would be resolved. Indeed, they had made very sure not to secure several spaceports in hopes the CEOs would flee.

Samara glanced up sadly as two of her subordinates entered the room. The elder, Justicar Kenia, had been in the Order longer than even Samara. Her features were serene as she spoke quietly. "They are going all-out, Samara. Scouts report thousands of combatants marching out of the inner city. Mostly heavy infantry. That clanless didn't tell us they had this many battle-suits and gunships. We didn't bring heavy equipment to match that, and the Guard is ill-equipped to fight such."

Samara nodded. "I know. We cannot withdraw at this stage, however. Their brazen communication to the rest of the galaxy has doomed this planet. Is the fleet valsharess prepared to fire on our command?"

The other justicar, a younger matron named Niseele, shook her head. "The valsharess reports all GTS batteries on the surface are coming up to full power, as are the orbital defense satellites. The Ilium Fleet has opened range and transmitted they are not going to follow the Court of Corporation's orders to engage us... unless we open fire on the planet. As such, the valsharess feels escalating the issue is unwise and will not engage in surface bombardment."

Samara's hands made a slow sign of siari negation. "I expected such. While I could compel her to obey, she does have a valid point. So, we have to meet them head-on." She gave an exhale. "Pull back our search teams and reform them into at least seven echelons. We'll spread what justicars we have left among them. Make a defensive line just south of the river and await further instructions."

The two justicars departed and Samara moved to the comms panel on one side of the room. She touched the controls gently and waited until the signal link to the FTL comm buoy was established.

"Message to the Thirty; the government of Ilium is in open rebellion. I will be forced to engage in unrestricted warfare as their military capabilities are far greater than anyone had expected. If the rest of Second Fleet is not moving at top speed, they need to."

She ended that message, sending a different one to the senior commander of the fraction of the Second Fleet that was with them, the valsharess. "Valsharess Senia, withdraw one-fourth of your fleet assets to cover the relay in the system and an additional one-fourth to interdiction positions for any vessels that attempt to break the blockade. There are two groups of STG on the planet, the Shadow Broker's ship, and a small number of the Ganar Clan – aside from their vessels, shoot down anything that attempts to leave."

She clicked off, then paused to center herself, seeking the calm focus that all justicars attempted to hold in themselves. She could not let frustration distract her now.

Mirala was somewhere on this world. All of these distractions would only delay the inevitable meeting between them, not stop it. She focused on that thought, letting tension drain from her body. She gave a serene smile as she opened her eyes once more, then headed for the elevators.

**O-TWCD-O**

Warlord Ganar Dhrag chuckled as his scouts reported the movements of the forces arrayed against him.

The krogan had not been one of the War-Father's favored pupils. He grasped what Okeer wanted, of course. The restoration of the krogan could not happen overnight, and it included both political and societal change alongside the scientific mastery that Okeer had already performed.

However, the allies Okeer chose in his quest were highly questionable. Dhrag had argued fiercely against getting involved with that crazy Saren and the even crazier Benezia, but had been ignored. Later, when Okeer began working with even darker forces, Dhrag had managed to convince him to let him serve on Ilium.

He was hardly surprised, although certainly enraged, to hear that the War-Father's allies had probably been the reason the Butcher targeted and killed him. Joining forces with the Broker was just asking to be double-crossed. The Collectors were even worse, as no one could say what their ultimate goals were – and if they had shared such knowledge with Okeer, he had not passed it on to the clan.

And now the remaining elders of Clan Ganar were acting just as foolishly.

Allies with power were useful, but the Collectors were clearly a threat to galactic peace, and as such, would foul any ties to the Council, to say nothing of the risks posed by such ties in the first place. Sooner or later, the plans of the Ganar would come to light and he doubted the asari – much less the salarians – would hesitate to try and kill all krogan if they knew Okeer's actual goals for the future.

Aria would be much more understanding of such goals and would be able to profit from such, unlike the Council. Unfortunately, most of the Ganar Clan still had ties to the greater galaxy and Aria, like Sederis, was an ally of the Urdnot. For that reason alone, the clan had ignored her – the blood-feud between Ganar and Urdnot causing the clan to see Aria as undependable.

Dhrag himself didn't see the point of the age-old feud. Urdnot Thrax had died at the hands of Okeer. Urdnot Jarrod had been deceived into attacking his own son. Urdnot Wrex had been beaten to a pulp and Urdnot Urv had been slain then turned into an experiment.

Defeating _four generations_ of the Urdnot should have proven once and for all that biotic trickery was no match for intellect and raw power. He had no time for a grudge thousands of years old when the future was there for the taking.

Hence why he was on this asari world risking everything on a roll of the seeking bones. He turned to his lieutenant, a distant cousin of his. "Jatar, have the Blue Suns move forward along the river and dig into defensive positions. Use gunships and the militia to keep the enemy tied up until we're prepared. Once that's done have the battle-suits begin shelling."

The younger krogan, just now coming into full maturity, nodded curtly. "And our own forces? We are not to fight, but to run?"

Dhrag shook his head. "I know it is difficult to endure – but Clan Ganar can't be seen aiding the CEOs. Have all our men pull back to Northpoint and make sure the place is secure. I find it... _strange... _that the asari have not taken it or the southern industrial spaceport. It is a very curious oversight and one that troubles me. Make sure there are no lingering forces there to impede the plan."

The krogan nodded again and headed out. Dhrag eyed the scout reports again on his omni-tool then tapped the comm-link embedded in it. "Turas. Are your soldiers ready?"

The gruff flanging voice of a turian answered. _"Yes. The plasma mortars teams are in position and ready to fire in a conal sweep while the snipers keep things lively. The buildings the mortars are in have been fortified and my men are dug in. The minefield has also been deployed."_

Dhrag's muzzle split in a fierce grin. "Good. You may fire when ready."

He clicked off even as a dozen glowing orbs of pale fire lofted into the sky from the tall buildings north of the Vyna River, slamming down into the ranks of the still-disorganized Republican Guard. He knew asari tactics from long experience. They hated absorbing casualties and the Guard were not that good at being soldiers. The justicars were, but there was only a scattering of them. Under heavy bombardment and with no good way to respond, the asari had only one option.

His grin widened as the asari charged forward into the loose militia picket line set earlier. The city lit up with the blue radiance of biotics and the howl of plasma rifles as the plasma mortars continue to bombard the enemy. One such plasma blob was batted away with a blast of blue light, and he frowned.

There were still war priestesses active in the enemy lines.

He tapped the comm-link. "Turas, get your snipers moving. We still have at least one war priestess active."

He didn't get a reply, but he wasn't expecting one. The bombardment continued until a titanic eruption of blue energy formed over the Republican Guard before tearing across the sky to smash into a skyscraper. The tall building, one of several where the plasma mortars were firing from, shuddered as it was struck, glass shattering in a spreading wave as lines of force raced up and down the length of the building.

Two more enormous blasts flashed out from the ranks of the asari to strike the building, which suddenly began to collapse. Chunks of armacrete, a cloud of broken glass, and biotic explosions ripped through it as it seemed to fold inwards.

Dhrag's grin had vanished. The buildings they had chosen for their assault were picked due to being hard targets – the Guard would have to storm each one to take out the plasma mortars, he figured, and he'd loaded them with bully boys, gangers, and a handful of mercenaries to make that an expensive option.

As he watched the skyscraper come apart entirely as it collapsed, a huge cloud of smoke billowing into the air, blocking direct views of the increasingly heated firefight, he realized that the asari simply took another option.

Dhrag blinked, then cursed, tapping his omni. "All mortar teams, set the mortars to autofire. Evacuate. They can take down a skyscraper."

The forces of Ilium – and more importantly, Clan Ganar – could still salvage this but it was going to be even bloodier than he expected.

**O-TWCD-O**

Tetrimus absently glanced through the windows of the long hallway leading back to the main foyer as another skyscraper collapsed in the distance. He flicked a mandible in amused disdain at the sort of idiots who would push the justicars into using their most powerful arts in a crowded city center, before refocusing his mind on the task at hand.

He spun the cylindrical heat sink on his pistol, checking that the delicate ceramic disks around the cryonic fluids hadn't cracked before snapping it shut. He walked with a sure and steady gait, cane left behind at the parking lot.

This was no time for him to indulge his tastes for terror. He had several ugly problems in subduing this group. He glanced at his omni-tool again, seeing nothing but digital static on the comm-link indicator, and cursed.

If the Sisters of Vengeance were truly paranoid, they'd have encircled the entire complex with snipers, and most likely the team he'd just dispatched would be killed. But the Sisters had been getting sloppy, and the fact no one tried to take a shot at him back in the parking lot made him fairly confident their forces were concentrated in the front and in the back.

He clicked his short-range comm-link. "Remaining teams, check in. Casualties and position."

_"Vhaha, light injuries only. Falling back from the lobby with teams Banna and Navar. Both have two dead."_

_"Iniak, no casualties. With teams Veris and Jurka. Holding position as backup on the second floor elevator station, as requested."_

_"Temra, two dead. One injured. Team Miska is here. Four dead. Holding position in the lobby."_

_"Sitah, one dead. Holding position in the foyer."_

_"Nemoroth, four dead. Pinned by the snipers outside. Lobby."_

A slightly panicked voice. _"D-Dimrah. I think I'm the only one left alive. Seven teams went out there, some pulled back, but dug in near the breached walls. I got hit by some kind of biotics and thrown through a window, leg's broken."_

Tetrimus waited, but no other confirmations came in. That meant the teams he'd sent after Thax and the others were either locked in combat, or all dead. A quick count of teams and soldiers in his head left him with the ugly conclusion that he only had about fifty of his men left alive.

He'd come with over a hundred and twenty.

With a soft exhalation, he clicked the omni-tool again. "Understood. I haven't been able to raise any other forces. Iniak, take your teams and reinforce the lobby with Vhaha, Banna, and Navar. Once you're in place, push out and take down the mechs and the black-armored mercenaries supporting them." He paused. "Temra, Miska, Sitah, Nemoroth – fall back to the hallway near the south entrance. Provide suppressive fire while I engage the enemy. Use smoke and flashbangs. Do we have any kind of force estimate?"

The slightly shaken voice of the member of Dimrah team spoke. _"Yes. A dozen Dancers, some are dead. Black Blades, what looked like the Spectre Tela Vasir, and at least one war priestess. Plus some others I couldn't make out through the fighting."_ A pause, then the voice spoke again. _"I'm pretty sure they took the vorcha down. I don't hear any more fighting..."_

Tetrimus picked up his pace, reaching the long sloping ramp leading down to the hotel proper from the conference annex. "Execute and hold position. Do not engage until I arrive."

**O-TWCD-O**

Tela Vasir spat more blood as Liara knelt down to help her up, her face locked into a grimace of pain. She nearly fell as she felt something tearing in her side, and had to struggle to even draw a breath.

Aethyta was gingerly picking her way through corpses, her warp sword held in her off hand, her sword arm hanging limply. Behind her, the Black Blades were gathered around two of their own who had fallen.

Thane sat wearily next to the somewhat battered form of Matriarch Trellani, his features set in a frown. "Tetrimus has escaped. My men reported three ground cars departing from the western annex parking area, out of sniping range."

Liara glanced at Telanya, who tapped her omni-tool. "Drones are on it. We didn't plan for anyone to run away, but I can have the drones launch missiles at the cars and make them stop."

Trellani stiffened, her hand immediately going to her sword as her biotic senses were tingling. Her voice was cold. "...Tetrimus is not with them. He is close, and coming this way."

Morinth grimaced. "Great. Just what we fucking needed."

Aethyta closed her eyes briefly. "Hafta agree. It's bad. We're half-dead and the fucker is fresh – this is gonna be even stupider than fighting him on Omega."

Telanya managed not to say anything to that, her memories of that fight blurred with the nightmares she'd suffered since. Instead, she merely checked the matter block of her Spear of Athame rifle and nodded. "We need to redeploy – this isn't a good place to fight him." She gestured to the hole in the retaining wall Trellani had made. "If we set up on the other side of that, we have good cover and force any troops he brings with him to funnel through the hole."

Thane nodded, hand flicking out in a motion. Six of the remaining eight Dancers headed out, the last two heading further south. "The two snipers I have will set up behind that beach furniture at the shoreline. They'll snipe from behind if they have a shot, as they are the most heavily wounded and not in shape for any close-range combat."

The Blades formed up around Aethyta, Smiya's expression grim. "Mama Fish, Siena and Cefetha are dead. Merentha lost her fucking sword hand and got burned by warpfire. Inis has a gut wound and she's bleeding even after medi-gel, and your sword arm is fucking smashed to hell. You can't fight like this."

Aethyta snorted. "And?"

She jerked her head to Tela who was barely standing. "Take Tela, Inis, Merentha, and our dead and get the fuck to a hospital. The justicars won't fuck with you or Tela. Use the shuttles and go."

Aethyta opened her mouth to speak when Liara touched her good arm. "You will only distract us. You should do as she says."

Trellani did not miss the almost pleading note in the voice of the Sister of Vengeance, and stood up from where she had been contemplating the death of Dunn.

As Aethyta continued to argue, the old war-priestess picked up the man's dog tags and, with a sigh, incinerated the body with warpfire. Despite his often rough edges and sarcastic wit, the former N7 had been brave and clever, and one of the few Cerberus people she felt truly believed in the cause for its own sake, rather than repressed racism.

She would not be happy explaining to Shepard how she got one of her few remaining teammates and friends killed, and did not look forward to that conversation. Turning to the rest, she exhaled. "I also agree with her advice, Matriarch. I will call reinforcements down to deal with Tetrimus and to support us – you should take all of our seriously wounded and go while you still can. Otherwise, they will only die."

Aethyta's expression grew tight and troubled, but she finally nodded. "Fine. I'm coming back as soon as I get my fucking shoulder set, though." She paused, then picked up the warp sword of Midnight's Kiss. "Taking this with me, in case we run into any justicars. Should get us some cooperation from them."

She glanced over the rest of the Black Blades before speaking again. "Smiya, who's the most wounded of our combat effectives?"

Smiya glanced back at the remaining Blades. "Manvai, I guess."

Aethyta nodded. "Good. Go with Thane's two Dancers to the water's edge, you have a sniper rifle as well. Keep them safe. The rest of you, follow Smiya. I'll be back."

Trellani's gaze was on the smouldering hotel building. The sound of plasma mortars had been replaced with heavy repeated firing and the faint screams of dying sapients. "We should move. Tetrimus appears to have moved his force to engage our distraction."

Aethyta led the wounded away, with her supporting Tela, each of the wounded Blades carrying a dead Blade, followed by one of Thane's Dancers who limped along with a sprained ankle. The rest hustled through the hole in the retaining wall, taking up semicircular positions about nine meters away in the tangle of low plascrete walls that divided the various parking and landing areas.

Trellani didn't care for their chances. If they had gone all-out against Tetrimus when they were fresh, the turian mystic would certainly be dead by now. With a good third of their force dead or wounded, and everyone battered, things wouldn't be so simple.

Then again, they had put down Midnight's Kiss, the krogan warlord, and whatever the Depths that vorcha _thing_ was. With no support aside from the Broker soldiers he had left, Tetrimus was still heavily outnumbered.

Liara's voice interrupted Trellani's thoughts. "We're unable to tap their comms – he must have shifted encryption. We need to break it quickly."

Telanya nodded absently. "Trying. Drones are catching up to the ground cars... shit. He must have sent bully boys along, they're firing on the drones."

Thane rechecked his knives and then his head snapped up. "Movement in the rubble on the other side of the wall. Be ready."

**O-TWCD-O**

Three of Tetrimus's troops advanced through the gaping hole in the hotel wall, shotguns sweeping the area. "No movement, Ginnister."

Another of the troopers flicked his mandibles in agitation, eyes taking in the carnage of the battlefield. "By the spirits, they killed over sixty of our men?"

Tetrimus walked forward, flanked by two more teams, his eye narrowed as he surveyed the battlefield himself. There was no sign of the enemy, not even bodies, although a few piles of ash here and there still glowed warmly in his enhanced infra-sight vision from his cybernetic eye.

He glanced up at the walls, then toward the single large hole blown into the retaining wall, and bared his fangs in a smile. "It seems they have withdrawn to a more advantageous field of battle." He half turned to face the team leader next to him. "Miman, your team has jump-packs. Everyone else, rush the hole – one team will push through the hole and engage anything in sight with heavy suppressive fire while the other team leads with omni-shields until you obtain cover."

He glanced at the only heavy weapons squad. "Your team will remain in cover behind the wall taking shots of opportunity. Disable secondaries, I will have to put down that war priestess before I engage the Sisters directly."

Miman, a salarian with dark skin and a cybernetic eye, gave a nod. "Ginnister, when we jump we'll drop smoke around the hole to provide cover, and grenades to shift enemy positions."

Tetrimus nodded. "I'll be making my own entrance, and flank the entire mess. Hopefully I can get one of them with a good hit before engaging the war priestess. Use anti-biotic grenades liberally, but take care not to throw them at me." He glanced over the teams. "Combat pay is tripled for this. If you survive. Move."

With well-trained smooth motions, the teams fell out, lifting weapons and moving stealthily amongst the blasted rubble. Tetrimus started forward, only to hear a groan of pain from one side. He kicked over a piece of rubble to find the blasted and burned form of Thax.

"...Still alive?" He glanced back into the hole in the foyer, where the last wounded member of team Dimrah waited. "Take him to the western annex, there's still two cars there. Get him to a hospital if possible, Northpoint if not."

The wounded Broker soldier nodded, gingerly stepping down, and Tetrimus continued on his path. He heard the launch of jetpacks and the muted thump of smoke grenades, followed by the harsh bark of the turian squad leader instructing them to move. The sound of heavy rifles and at least one plasma weapon echoed weirdly in the wide-open space of the southern expanse as he focused his attention on the retaining wall. Blowing a hole as wide as the one already in it was probably something he could do, but he didn't see the point.

He engaged his cloaking device, then used a biotic tether and a jump to leap atop the wall lightly. Gazing down, he saw a maze of permacrete and plascrete walls, some obviously moved by biotics into a defensive position. His men were moving erratically from cover to cover under a murderous rain of fire from a group of Dancers and black-armored asari.

His eye narrowed as he took in the armor of the single war priestess, next to the two Sisters in heavy cover. Unless he was mistaken that was the armor of the Stellarch, defaced on the shoulders with the symbol of Cerberus rather than the imprint of the Stars United. That could only mean this was Trellani.

This would be amusing.

He focused his inner strength, generating a tenuous barrier field in a tube shape in the direction of his target, then began preparing the Beam. It took several seconds, and he smiled in anticipation as he finished his preparation and broke the barrier, the lashing silvery bolt of doom striking instantly—

He felt his jaw hang open as it didn't hit her, instead splashing with a titanic explosion off of a shimmering Wall of Athame. He had almost no time to react as the war priestess stopped feigning throwing warpfire at his men and lashed out with a trio of spinning singularities right at his position.

He was moving before his mind even registered the fact that he should have done a biotic charge, and the Athame's Fury invocation blasted through the wall and detonated a moment later. He was hurled in an uncontrolled spin through the air and hit the ground hard enough to dent his armor, skidding a good nine meters before slamming into a concrete barrier. Alarms blared as he surveyed the internal damage he'd just taken.

He cursed his own stupidity. He knew for a fact the leading priestesses of Athame had some kind of hidden techniques that allowed them to sense biotic power, and he'd made himself into a perfect target. He reflexively tightened his barrier, the only reason he was still alive, noting with dismay it had nearly broken, before getting to his feet. The blast had not only reduced a good fifth of the hotel to smoking ruins, but had shattered the retaining wall, killing his jump-capable team.

In the aftermath of the shock, the Black Blades surged forward, bursting into the kanquess and coming out among his men, warp swords flashing in blue streaks of radiance. Before the Broker's soldiers could even react, five were dead and two more lost arms as blades cut through omni-shields. The soldiers fell back in disarray, covering their retreat with smoke grenades.

With a snarl he flung his most powerful project field, catching the entire band of asari and sending them flying. Two hit the secondary wall dividing the shuttle area from the lobby entrance with sickening thuds, the rest were hurled to the ground, a few landing awkwardly enough to break arms or legs.

He turned to block a spear of warpfire hurled by one of the Sisters of Vengeance, smirking as he answered with a blade of force that lashed the tall asari across the shoulder and sent her flying. The Dancers emerged from cover, firing at him or flinging knives with their special biotic attack, none of which even dented his barrier.

"Enough." He slammed his hands together, a titanic push and lift combined that picked up the drell – and several barriers and two shuttles – and flung them back a good fifteen meters. "Trash."

He ignored the ineffective fire of two of the Blades who got to their feet as one was still uninjured enough to charge him, her blade slashing down at him. He used a pull field on the ground to make her stumble before catching her with a biotic enhanced punch to the stomach hard enough to crumple her armor and make her vomit purple blood. Her sword fell from nerveless fingers as he threw her away carelessly.

"Matriarch Trellani. What a pleasant surprise, seeing you here."

The form of the asari priestess stood stock still, a hand in the air to restrain the Sisters of Vengeance. "Tetrimus. Your days of murder are at an end."

He noted with interest that the Matriarch was the least wounded, although her crystalline mask was dented. The asari behind her looked vaguely familiar as well – another Black Blade, he assumed – and the Sisters seemed unharmed.

He merely lifted his hands. "I won't bother with offers of surrender. Your head will divert any attention from the Broker Network when I deliver it to the Thirty, after all."

Trellani's voice was almost amused. "Match your power against mine and see who wins, tool of the Broker."

"If you insist." Tetrimus moved. He anchored a barrier to the ground as he leapt back, flinging a trio of blades in the general direction of the war priestess.

She didn't even bother to draw her warp sword; instead, a hazy field of faint blue light erupted from the ground, brightening into hard focus as the blades hit it. Even as that happened, a ball of warpfire the size of an aircar burst outwards, heading towards him.

He had battled war priestesses before, but never one of the highest-ranking ones. Tazzik had fought this asari, but she'd been heavily wounded, exhausted, and in emotional distress at the time, and he still said it was a mess. He kanquessed to the side as the warpfire tore through his barrier as if it was paper, setting the ground bubbling with its force.

Even as he came out of the biotic charge, however, the other asari he'd noted was on him, warp sword blazing as she cut at him. He ducked back and used a pull to jerk a concrete barrier between them, laughing as the blade got fouled in it and yanked out of her hands. A second later he hit her with a point-blank blast of warpfire that sent her staggering away, following up with a push that literally slammed her directly into the other Sister of Vengeance charging his position.

He had to leap back as two of the Blades had gotten back to their feet, weapons moving in eerie synchronicity as they tried to pin him in place, even as Trellani began gathering her power for some heavy attack. Thankfully, his own soldiers had dug into new positions, and with the Dancers out of the way for the moment, opened up with everything they had on the Blades.

One of them flash-stepped back to avoid the fire, and Tetrimus used her distraction to hit her with a biotic salvo. Six bright bolts of energy slammed into her form, deforming her armor as they sent her skidding. He ducked under the attack of the other asari, catching her arm and snapping it with ease before backhanding her hard enough to buckle her helmet's shape.

Stepping over the stunned asari, he brought up his barrier again to deflect the aimless shots from the taller Sister of Vengeance, his cybernetic eye fixed on Trellani. She didn't disappoint, her hands coming down as some kind of buckling biotic force raced toward him, sending the concrete paving flying in long chunks in his direction even as a push field accelerated them to terrifying speeds.

He pushed more energy into his barrier, blocking the field of rubble, before he saw most of it was coated with the black lightning of an annihilation field. He had no time to react as she clenched her fist and detonated her power, a dozen huge bubbles of biotic energy going off at once and staggering him.

A vicious push hurled a long piece of rebar at him, the metallic rod slamming directly into his shoulder and piercing all the way through, sending him staggering back further. He slammed down his right leg to stabilize himself, then sidestepped a tight bolt of warp energy.

With a single pull, he wrenched the metal bar from his shoulder, tossing it aside. The Blades that were still conscious were now pinned by the heavy weapons team, several of them unable to do much besides take cover due to their wounds. The Dancers, being far more lightly armored and built, had not recovered from being flung half the length of the parking area, and the asari who'd charged him was still on the ground.

That left only Trellani and the Sisters to deal with. He flicked his mandible in amusement. Disdaining any further talk, he simply pushed all his biotic strength into a sustained wave of warpfire.

The barrier of the taller Sister of Vengeance shattered immediately, but Trellani's hands were held aloft, her teeth gritted as her Wall of Athame was strained to the limit. For several seconds the tableau was unchanged – the dark, robed figure limed in blue fire, the raging firestorm bending around the priestess until the very concrete bubbled and liquefied.

Then with a yell Trellani's arms pushed out and forward. Her glowing wall turned pitch black and then the entire raining mass of warp energies was flung back at Tetrimus, who had barely any time to be astonished as it roared over him and some of his remaining men. His cloak erupted into flames and then Trellani hurled a smear field over the area and detonated it almost immediately.

Liara's good eye widened at the simply gargantuan explosion that followed. Sections of the retaining wall that were still standing melted. Three of the Broker's soldiers in cover flashed into burning, screaming torches, while the Blades hissed and fell back rapidly, armor smoking.

Telanya, bent over the form of Morinth, gave a gasp. "By the Goddess..."

Trellani had fallen to her knees from the exertion, but had enough breath left to snort. "Hardly." She slowly got to her feet, her hand falling to her warp sword. "Even that monster should not have survived that."

A single bolt of white hot blazing energy slammed into her wall, shattering it and hitting the priestess in the chest before detonating violently into a cascade of shockwaves. Liara and Telanya were flung away, both landing in a heap on the far side of a concrete barricade, while Trellani's shriek of pain was choked off by a gurgle of blood.

She fell to her knees, most of her chest armor blasted to smoking ruins and some of it glowing hotly as it was sunk into her flesh, before a push field sent her flying backwards. She spun in midair and impacted an overturned shuttle with a brutal thud, falling to the ground boneless a moment later.

Liara and Telanya came to their feet slowly, as a black-armored shape strode through the burning wreckage of the retaining wall. Heavy, black steel plates of angular design encircled blue-lit crystalline implants along the arms, legs, and chest. Spikes thirty centimeters long extended with mechanical grinding noises from the feet, while heavy armor plates over the shoulders slid down to partially cover the chest.

The blasted, ruined features of Tetrimus were gone, a blank, black steel turian skull staring at them with one baleful red eye. Out of his clothing, only his combat belt holding his oversized pistol had survived, his cloak was tatters at his clawed feet as he stepped forward, biotic fire limning his hands.

"Not enough gun, I'm afraid. Now, dear Sisters, you have caused me a great deal of aggravation." Powerful blue-white omni-armor erupted over the turian's body, as he pulled out a long talon dagger that glowed with the steady blue light of some kind of fixed barrier field. "It's been a long time since anyone pressed me this hard. Let us see if you can keep up."

Liara snarled. This monster had murdered her friends, was responsible for the death of her Sara, had probably crippled her aithntar and killed Trellani. She lifted the special grenade she had made and flung it with her biotics.

Tetrimus actually chuckled and stepped forward, confident his powerful barriers would withstand any blast or damage – until it exploded. The grenade was an omni-suspension of tainted eezo around a very powerful phase disruptor, centered around a tiny gravitic generator. It had cost almost two million credits to make, and it had only been tested once.

But it worked flawlessly, and she smiled ferally as Tetrimus's biotic barrier failed and his dagger lost its glow. He staggered, clutching his cybernetic skull, and Liara yelled as she and Telanya charged.

He snarled and boosted forward to meet them, dancing aside from the glowing edge of Liara's warp sword and blocking a pair of vicious kicks from Telanya's cybernetic leg. The three engaged in brutal close-range combat, Tetrimus using his cybernetic speed to keep up.

He backhanded the smaller Sister back, but hissed as Liara's sword carved heavily into his side, alarms blaring in his HUD. He stepped back, only for Telanya to trigger a plasma ejector on the forearm of her armor, spraying him with high-intensity plasma.

He jerked back and barely managed to evade another enraged swipe of the warp sword, kicking Liara in the leg hard enough to make her stumble then following it up with a scissor kick that sent her to the ground. But as he did so, Telanya used a biotic pull to jerk his own gun from his belt and fired three times into his back.

"I trust _that_ is enough gun," said the smaller asari, "And if not…" She poured warpfire into the fresh bullet holes from near point-blank range.

Dire warnings were illuminating the edges of his HUD with red glyphs, as he tried again to reach for his biotics and failed. Liara rose slowly, her fist lined in biotic light.

"Die and burn forever in the Abyss, murderer." A push sent him stumbling back before a flare hit him squarely in the chest. Armor vaporized as his systems began collapsing.

He crashed to the ground a moment later, claws gripping at the dirt in anger and fear. Never had he been reduced to this. His pulse negation equipment was supposed to make neutralizing his biotics impossible.

The slow footsteps of the Sisters got closer. "Knowledge about your cybernetics isn't as well hidden as you would like, turian. But I will admit it took us quite a bit of time to figure out how to shut you down." Liara pulled out her pistol, the one Shepard had made for her. "This is for Sara."

Before she could pull the trigger, there was an explosion from the far retaining wall. Liara jerked up as the wall detonated, and a giant figure on a hovercycle came smashing through it.

Tazzik leapt from the cycle as it soared through the air, the Sisters having to fall back to avoid being crushed as it landed barely a meter from Tetrimus, skidding along away from him and catching Telanya in the legs, sending her to the ground.

Tazzik came down in a crouch and fired his lance cannon immediately, Liara barely able to block it with her barrier. "Aww yeah! I'm crashing this party." He fired a pair of mini-missiles at the the Sister of Vengeance's crouched form, driving her back into cover.

He glanced down at the battered form of Tetrimus, shorn of his armor and robes, and shook his head. "Got in over your horns, old bird?"

Tetrimus just growled. "They've hit me with some kind of... fouled eezo explosive. Systems are fucked and my biotics aren't responding." His voice dropped. "And they took my pistol."

Tazzik nodded. "You got sloppy again, didn't you? No matter. The boys are cleaning up the enemies out front, had two more teams go and cover Nassana. I'll handle these two."

In the distance, Liara grimaced as she pulled Telanya into cover. "Now what?"

There was a weak groan from where Trellani lay slumped, as she managed to find the strength to tap her omni-tool. "Lion... Priestess here." She coughed blood. "Ragnarok."

The crisp voice of Petrovsky answered. _"Understood. Deploying."_

Tazzik had just dropped a portable kinetic barrier over Tetrimus and gotten to his feet when his radar systems reported incoming orbital signatures. He glanced up.

Ten white-painted battle-suits came crashing down, each one trimmed in black and gold and boldly displaying the Cerberus insignia. As each one powered up and began to move, Tazzik gave a sigh. "You _have_ to be shitting me**_."_**

Liara found herself smiling for the first time in weeks, as the sound of more drop pods crashing into the concrete let her know more Cerberus soldiers had arrived.

Tetrimus, on the other hand, looked up at Tazzik, and gave a small chuckle. "Buy me three minutes and I can fix this."

Tazzik's omni-armor lit up and ports on his arms and shoulders slid back. "Hurry it the fuck up, or there won't be anything left for you to kill." He grinned as his combat mask slid down over his features, his voice erupting from loudspeakers. "Let's get wild!"


End file.
